The summons came via a black, featureless email from Marcus Graves's office. It contained only a room number—on the 45th floor, the executive level—and a time. No subject, no agenda.
When Leo arrived, he found a room unlike any he'd ever seen at TitanCorp. It wasn't a boardroom or an office. It was a small, anechoic chamber, painted a soft, matte grey. In the center of the room sat a single, ergonomic chair facing a blank wall. On a small pedestal next to it was a sleek, minimalist VR headset.
Marcus Graves was waiting for him, his arms crossed. "Zhang," he said, his voice flat. "Welcome to the Management Aptitude Simulation, or as we call it, 'The Crucible.' It's a fast-track assessment for high-potential candidates."
He gestured to the headset. "You will be placed in a hyper-realistic simulation of a standard workday. You will be the acting manager of a small, unfamiliar team. You will face a series of escalating, overlapping crises. Your objective is simple: survive the hour. Your performance will be measured against every candidate who has ever taken this test."
Leo felt a surge of anticipation. This was the System's logic made manifest by the company itself. A pure, quantifiable test of skill.
"I understand," Leo said.
"Good." Graves's expression was grim. "The last candidate had a nervous breakdown at the forty-minute mark. Try to do better."
Leo sat down and fitted the headset over his eyes. The world dissolved into blackness, and then reformed with breathtaking fidelity. He was sitting at a manager's desk in a bustling, open-plan office. Sunlight streamed through virtual windows. The low hum of computers and quiet chatter filled the air.
His System interface immediately overlaid the virtual reality, its familiar blue text glowing in his vision.
[Entering Simulation: The Crucible] [Main Quest: Survive the Hour] [Time Remaining: 60:00] [Team Status: Stable] [Project Integrity: 100%]
Before him were five desks, occupied by his new, simulated team members. He instinctively activated Microexpression Reading as he scanned them. The System provided instant personality archetypes.
'Sarah': Ambitious, high-strung, overachiever.
'Ben': Cynical, competent, resistant to change (a clear echo of his real-life colleague).
'Tom': Insecure, eager to please, prone to panic.
'Jessica': Social butterfly, office gossip, productivity questionable.
'David': Quiet, passive, likely to fly under the radar.
It was a perfectly dysfunctional corporate family. Before he could formulate a plan, the first alert flashed across his screen.
[Crisis Event 1: Data Catastrophe] [The final report for the Centurion account is due to the client in 55 minutes. The primary data server has just crashed. The backup is three days old.]
Simultaneously, 'Tom' let out a strangled gasp, his face paling. "Oh god. The Centurion report… the server is down! We're ruined!"
His panic began to infect the others. Jessica's eyes widened, and even Sarah's confident posture faltered.
[Team Morale: Decreasing (-10%)]
This was the test. He couldn't solve it himself. He had to lead. Calm Mind (MAX) engaged, turning the rising panic into a set of variables.
"Tom, your panic is inefficient. Stop," Leo said, his voice cutting through the noise. The command was so devoid of emotion that Tom's anxiety was shocked into silence.
"Sarah," Leo continued, his mind processing at the speed of his Efficiency Demon skill. "You have the highest raw data processing speed on the team. I need you to manually reconcile the backup data with the email records from the last 72 hours. It will be a grind, but you can do it."
Sarah, given a clear, challenging task, nodded, her anxiety replaced by focus.
"Ben," Leo said, turning to the cynic. "Your experience is your value. You've seen this before. I need a one-page risk assessment and a new protocol for data redundancy to ensure this never happens again. I want it on my desk before the main report is finished."
Ben, appealed to for his wisdom rather than his labor, grunted in what seemed to be approval and began typing.
He had delegated, stabilized, and created a forward-looking solution, all in thirty seconds.
But the simulation was just warming up.
[Crisis Event 2: Interpersonal Meltdown] [Jessica has accused Sarah of deliberately 'hoarding' key data to make herself look better. The argument is escalating.]
"I can't work like this!" Jessica's simulated voice rose, filled with manufactured outrage. "She's trying to sabotage me!"
[Team Morale: Decreasing (-25%)] [Report Progress: Stalled]
Leo didn't even turn his head. "Jessica, your personal grievances are not a factor in this team's performance metrics. Assist Sarah with cross-referencing the email receipts. Now."
He hadn't solved their personal issue. He had simply made it irrelevant in the face of a greater objective. Jessica, stunned by the cold dismissal of her drama, reluctantly complied.
The timer on his display hit 30:00. The report was slowly coming together. Team morale was low but stable.
Then, a red alert flashed across his vision, so jarring it felt like a physical blow.
[CRITICAL CRISIS EVENT 3: Strategic Assault] [A rival department has just launched a new initiative, 'Project Vanguard,' which makes your team's primary project, 'Project Sentinel,' completely redundant. All Q4 funding is now at risk.]
The simulated office plunged into chaos. 'David', the quiet one, looked like he was about to cry. 'Ben' swore loudly.
[Team Morale: CRITICAL (-70%)] [Project Integrity: 15% and falling] [Time Remaining: 29:45]
This was it. The breaking point. He was being attacked on three fronts: technical, interpersonal, and strategic. His team was a hair's breadth from total collapse. He could feel the immense, crushing weight of failure.
But in Leo's mind, there was only silence. The perfect, beautiful silence of Calm Mind (MAX). The chaos wasn't a threat. It was the game. And he was here to win.