My Ultimate Sign-in System Made Me Invincible - Chapter 514 I Just Clicked

Chapter 514  I Just Clicked

There were less than six days remained before selected staff would be transported to Lunar Base Sanctuary for orientation. The Defense and Security extension had to complete reconfiguring all twelve security Synths before that deadline, as several would be aboard the shuttle during the pickup operation. It wasn’t a concern. The extension had finished three Synths in a few hours. At that pace, all twelve would be done well before the transport date.

The other extensions were deep in their own work.

Infrastructure and Construction had taken over the Emperor Class-II Starship build and the ongoing sections of Lunar Base Sanctuary, absorbing both without interruption.

The Lucid Ecosystem extension had assumed full operational control of the platform — Nova Technologies’ official LucidNet page, device management, backend infrastructure, and the Lucid Studio build currently scheduled to go live in less than two months. Research and Development was working through Liam’s new exosuit specifications, moving through early architecture in parallel with everything else.

The Medical extension was finalising the volunteer shortlist. The application window had closed. The full picture was in front of it now and selection was underway.

Everything was running smoothly.

***

Time flew by quickly and the pre-order date arrived, and the internet was already on fire before noon.

Ninety-nine percent of that fire was on LucidNet. In the four months since Nova Technologies launched the platform, the shift in global social media activity had moved past tipping point into something that looked like permanent realignment.

Other platforms weren’t dying in a dramatic way. They were simply becoming less relevant by the week, user activity bleeding away steadily as the conversations that mattered moved somewhere else. LucidNet had become the place where things happened first, where reactions formed fastest, and where the absence of a post meant something.

r/NovaGate, the fan-created community on Reddit, had grown into one of the largest communities in the platform’s history. Posts buried other posts within seconds. The moderators had stopped trying to pin anything because nothing stayed visible long enough for pinning to matter.

The pre-order conversation had been building for days.

Everyone understood the basic math and the math was brutal. Ten thousand Lucid devices. Billions of people who wanted one. The Medical Nanites had transformed the device from desirable to essential in the minds of a significant portion of the global population — not because the nanites were available through the device yet, but because everyone paying attention understood that when they were, access would flow through the Lucid ecosystem. The device wasn’t a phone. It was a gate.

A user had posted a thread three days before the event that accumulated engagement faster than almost anything outside of Nova Technologies’ official announcements: “Let’s be clear about what tonight actually is. Ten thousand devices. Approximately eight billion people with internet access. That’s one device for every eight hundred thousand people. The lottery odds of winning a national jackpot are significantly better than getting a Lucid tonight. At least with the lottery, your ticket stays in the drum.”

The replies had been a mixture of resigned agreement and dark humor.

Someone replied: “Before the Medical Nanites announcement, people were already using multiple devices and bot networks to try to improve their odds. Tonight those same people have access to significantly more computing resources and significantly stronger motivation. Someone is definitely running this on a server rack.”

Another posted: “Someone pointed out that Nova Technologies’ selection system has never responded to bots or mass submission attempts in any documented way. Multiple people have tried. Multiple people have confirmed it doesn’t work. Whatever is running the selection on their end isn’t processing requests the way a normal queue system does. Nobody knows what it’s actually doing.”

The response to that post had been immediate and widely shared: “That’s somehow more unsettling than if the bots worked.”

The Lucid Air conversation ran alongside it.

A user had done the calculation that became the thread everyone referenced in the final forty-eight hours: “Lucid Air has five thousand units deployed. The lowest subscription tier allows ten simultaneous connections minimum. That means at minimum thirty-five thousand to forty thousand people tonight have access to a device running at minimum ten terabits per second. Those people are competing against everyone else using standard internet infrastructure. That is not a fair competition. It is also entirely luck-based and Nova Technologies designed it that way deliberately.”

Someone replied: “Not complaining about it. Just acknowledging it. The Lucid Air users have a structural advantage and they got that advantage by winning a previous lottery. It’s lottery upon lottery. Chaotic and entirely consistent with how this company operates.”

Another user had added the observation that spread furthest: “Nova Technologies could have sold the Lucid at any price point they chose. They could have made it available to the highest bidders and cleared the entire supply in minutes with zero logistical complexity. They didn’t. The lottery system means a person with nothing has the same individual chance as a billionaire. The Lucid Air advantage exists but it’s a connection speed advantage, not a wealth advantage. That’s a deliberate design choice and I think people are underreacting to it.”

The thread had accumulated hundreds of thousands of replies, most of them people working through whether they agreed with that framing or not, and most eventually concluding that they did, reluctantly or otherwise.

A separate thread had focused on the Transparency Report.

“I know exactly what tonight’s report is going to show,” a user posted. “Numbers that make me feel things I don’t want to feel while also being completely unable to look away. Nova Technologies has somehow created a document that functions as both corporate accountability measure and emotional damage delivery system and I respect it deeply while also dreading it.”

Someone replied: “The Transparency Report is genuinely one of the most interesting recurring documents in corporate history and it was invented four months ago. The platform metrics, the creator economy numbers, the device distribution data — it’s a picture of something growing at a rate that has no comparable precedent and they just release it every month as a matter of routine. I would read academic papers about the Transparency Report.”

Another added: “Every month I tell myself I’ll read it calmly and every month I end up doing math at eleven at night that makes me either elated or devastated depending on which section I’m in.”

***

Ten minutes before the pre-order window opened, the internet went still.

Not literally. Traffic didn’t stop. Servers didn’t pause. But the character of the activity shifted in a way that anyone monitoring platform behavior would have detected. The constant churn of new posts slowed. Conversations trailed off mid-thread. People stopped replying to things they’d been replying to seconds earlier.

Everyone who could had stopped what they were doing.

The focus was singular and global. Hundreds of millions of people with their hands on devices, their attention on one thing, watching a clock.

Time ticked by and it was time. The pre-order link appeared.

The response was instantaneous. The click volume in the first second was beyond any traffic event LucidNet had previously recorded, and LucidNet had recorded some extraordinary traffic events. The selection system absorbed it without visible strain.

On Nova Technologies’ official page, a post appeared.

Sold out.

The timestamp on the sold-out notification was less than one second after the pre-order link had gone live. People screenshot it, posted the screenshot, and received thousands of replies within minutes. The screenshot of a timestamp showing a sub-second sellout of ten thousand devices circulated faster than almost any piece of content the platform had seen.

The reactions sorted themselves quickly.

The people who hadn’t expected to get one and hadn’t — the majority — responded with the resigned humor of people who had prepared themselves for exactly this outcome and were still somehow surprised by the specific speed of it.

A user posted: “I clicked the link. I received the sold-out notification. I am now going to go lie down and think about my choices.”

Another: “I have genuinely no idea if I was even close or if my click was processed approximately eighteen minutes after it was already over. There is no way to know. This is fine.”

A third: “Every time I tell myself I’ve made peace with not having a Lucid and every time Nova Technologies reminds me that peace is a temporary condition.”

***

The Lucid Air pre-order opened immediately after, available to current Lucid users and new successful applicants through a separate queue. Five thousand units. The volume there was different — not the global frenzy of the main device, but intense and fast, clearing in under a few seconds.

While Lucid was the primary device, Lucid Air, a device that offers a minimum of 10Tbps, was just as important.

A new user who was lucky to get both a Lucid and Lucid Air posted the new pre-order confirmation emails, turning everyone who didn’t even get a Lucid, green with envy.

The post accumulated a hundred thousand likes in four minutes.

The comments were immediate and unhinged.

Someone wrote: “Bro, how many people did you sacrifice for this level of luck? Please show me the way.”

Another: “The odds of this are so astronomically small that I’m choosing to believe you’re not real. You’re a statistical error. You don’t exist.”

A third: “I can’t even be mad. This is like watching someone get struck by lightning twice and both times it cured a disease they had. Genuinely impressed. Genuinely devastated.”

Someone asked, seriously, whether they’d used bots or multiple accounts. The reply was a single line: I just clicked.

That answer spread further than the original post. People quoted it, screenshotted it, responded to it with varying degrees of acceptance and grief. The three words became a minor piece of platform lore for the next several days — the complete and useless explanation for something nobody could replicate.

I just clicked.

With those pre-order done, everyone were waiting for the Monthly Transparency Report for the fourth month.

Then, without ceremony, the Monthly Transparency Report dropped.