Fin's POV
I stared at the glowing numbers like they owed me money.
[00:00:56]
The timer ticked down in my peripheral vision, projected faintly against the inside of my eyeball by the System. I leaned back against my bed, arms crossed behind my head, leg bouncing with the kind of manic energy only someone almost out of System-lock could understand.
New house. New bed. New everything.
Same old me.
[00:00:48]
The room was nicer than I expected, honestly. Wood-panelled walls, a window that didn't leak, a bed that didn't feel like it was made of hay and betrayal. Still, it felt… off.
Too quiet.
Too clean.
It was mine now, though. My space. My corner of the world. And yet here I was, counting seconds like I was about to launch a nuke.
[00:00:32]
The new place still smelled like paint and fresh polish. I'd already unpacked my meagre collection of stuff — a spare cloak, a couple of books, that old dented water flask I kept forgetting to throw out. My bracer sat on the nightstand in its dormant form, blackened and etched faintly with traces of soul energy. It hadn't made a sound since the incident.
Neither had he.
[00:00:21]
"Come on," I muttered under my breath, flipping onto my stomach.
I was twitchy.
System withdrawal was a bitch.
Not being able to check quests. Not seeing how much PP I could get for knocking over an old fruit stand. Not even being able to loot properly — it all made me feel like I was back to square one.
And yeah, maybe it was only 24 hours.
But it felt like a month.
[00:00:10]
I sat up.
Hands on knees.
Back straight.
Eyes locked on the corner of the room where the timer blinked like it was counting down to the second coming of whoever was responsible for this garbage world.
I didn't even know what I wanted to roll for yet.
More skills? More weapons? Maybe a new passive that didn't require me to shatter every bone in my body just to win a fight?
[00:00:05]
Four.
Three.
Two.
One.
[SYSTEM UPDATE COMPLETE]
A chime sounded inside my skull — crisp, high-pitched, and just irritating enough to make me flinch. Then came the voice.
Dry. Robotic. Sarcastic.
"Update complete. Congratulations, Fin. You've survived long enough to warrant basic quality-of-life improvements. A true feat."
I blinked. "Wait—what?"
"System Version 2.0 is now active. Voice interface engaged. You may now argue with me in real time. Lucky you."
Oh god. It talks now?
"Do you have to sound like a smug microwave?"
"Smug microwave module currently active. Upgrade to 'British Butler' voice requires 5000PP."
I snorted. "Fuck you."
"Charming"
A glowing interface shimmered in front of my eyes. Sleeker than before. Crisper fonts. Streamlined menus. Tabs I didn't recognise yet.
[PP Balance: 3,817]
Nice. That number still made me grin.
A few new windows blinked at me:
[Skill Evolution Progress – View][Companion Tracker – View][Item Storage Optimization – Complete][New Feature: Contextual Missions Enabled]
I skimmed it, then opened the Skill Evolution tab first.
A couple of skills were glowing faintly. [Basic Rokushiki: Soru] had a yellow edge around it, pulsing like it wanted attention. Same with [Novice Swordplay] and — weirdly — [Fast Reading].
"Several skills are eligible for evolution, pending confirmation and stat investment. Would you like to review available upgrades?"
"Yes. Obviously."
"Noted. Beginning review—try not to drool."
[SKILL EVOLUTION – EVOLUTIONS PENDING]
1. [Basic Rokushiki: Soru] → [Flash Shift] You've used this skill beyond human limitations. Movement now generates phantom afterimages. Short-range teleportation illusion effect added.
2. [Novice Swordplay] → [Adaptive Bladework] You've survived combat against multiple weapon types. Gain reactive bonuses vs. unfamiliar weapon styles.
3. [Fast Reading] → [Accelerated Comprehension] You now retain and understand advanced magical, linguistic, and martial texts at 3x previous speed.
Warning: May cause smugness.
I hovered over the swordplay upgrade. My fingers twitched.
"Pick carefully. You only get one free evolution today. The rest cost PP."
"Let's go with Soru. I like moving fast."
"Excellent. One step closer to outrunning your emotional damage."
[Flash Shift – Acquired]A burst of speed so intense it leaves behind a blurred projection of your form. It may briefly confuse enemies and allies alike.
I closed the menu, stretching. My body still ached, but it wasn't unbearable now. The potion must've helped more than it tasted like.
"Hey, System."
"Listening."
"...Thanks."
"For what?"
"...Not being dead air."
A pause.
"You're welcome, Fin. Don't get yourself killed. I just got upgraded."
I laughed under my breath.
My room was still messy. Unfamiliar. The floorboards creaked slightly as I moved to the window. I cracked it open, letting the cold morning air bite against my face. Yartar bustled quietly below. Smoke curling from chimneys. Merchants are yelling over price tags.
Helga headed out for groceries.
I scratched my arm absently, the bracer warm under my sleeve. System or no, I still felt... off. Not sad, exactly. Not even tired.
Like my insides were still vibrating from the shitshow that was last week.
"As part of your update rewards, a feature has been unlocked. Initiating: Path Selection Protocol."
I chuckled, hopping back onto the bed. There was a low pulse in the back of my head. A screen shimmered into view. Sleek. New fonts. Smoother interface. Fancy little icons and all. It looked… clean.
Like a damn software trailer.
"To reward your patience during downtime, you are entitled to one free Primary Path Selection. Your performance and behavioural data have been analysed."
"Wait—behavioural what? You've been profiling me?"
"Yes."
"Damn. No hesitation, huh?"
"You're not exactly subtle, Fin."
Fair.
"Based on combat aptitude, point allocation, psychological markers, and general self-destructive tendencies, two Paths have been unlocked for you. Please review."
The screen shifted.
Two panels opened like tarot cards flipping in front of me. Light shimmered along the edges.
[Path of the Jujutsu Sorcerer] - Specialises in the manipulation of Cursed Energy: the spiritual manifestation of negative emotions. Start with a baseline cursed energy pool and basic control. Future rolls may include: Domain Expansion, Black Flash, Reverse Cursed Technique, and more.
[Path of the Pirate] - Unleash the instincts of a true free spirit. Start with Random Base Haki and a Random Devil Fruit. Future rolls may include: Conqueror's Haki, Devil Fruits, and Sea King Insurance (terms and conditions apply).
"...Sea King Insurance?"
"That was a joke. I'm adapting to your humour preferences."
I squinted at the glowing options. "Yeah, you're gonna need some patches on that feature."
The System fell silent for a second. Then...
"Noted."
I stepped over to the window and pushed the curtain aside. Outside, the city was already awake. Merchants were shouting, and a horse was shitting in the street—normal stuff.
But here I was, standing at a literal crossroads.
"Okay," I murmured. "Let me get this straight. I pick one of these Paths, and then what? Better chances at themed skills?"
"Correct. Paths allow more focused reward potential and unique progression events. You may still earn unrelated rewards via a Normal Gacha or via manual development of your abilities, but Path rolls will yield items, skills, and upgrades tied to the selected archetype."
"Can I switch later?"
"Not yet. However, additional Paths will be unlockable. You may eventually walk multiple Paths. Your choices will affect narrative outcomes."
Huh.
Kinda made it feel like I was choosing a class in a game… except my XP came from trauma and murder.
I looked between the two panels again. Pirate. Sorcerer.
One offered swagger, grit, and devil-may-care chaos. The other was full of pain-fueled explosions and finger gestures that screamed "edgelord power-up."
Both sounded awesome.
Both sounded like me.
Almost.
I cracked my neck. "Alright, let's do this."
I raised my hand.
"Awaiting input."
I hesitated.
"…Can I ask something first?"
"Yes."
"You gonna keep talking like this forever?"
"…Would you prefer the text again?"
I thought about it, I leaned against the window, watching some poor bastard try to chase a chicken through the street. "Eh. You're growing on me. Although you'll need a name."
"I don't have one; would you like to designate one?"
"Let's see...how about...Ali?"
The voice hummed momentarily before suddenly becoming more feminine and humanlike, much less robotic.
I thought for a moment, spinning the bracer on my wrist absently. "Let's see… how about… Ali?"
There was a pause.
A soft hum, like static rewiring itself.
Then the voice shifted.
Not drastically.
But noticeably.
What had been flat, emotionless, purely synthetic… was now smoother. Warmer. It leaned feminine. Less "AI from a sci-fi flick," and more like someone I could imagine having a conversation with.
"I shall now have my name designated to… Ali."
I blinked. "Uh. Did your voice just—?"
"Change? Yes. Vocal modulation adjusted to reflect user preference. You assigned me a name, Fin. Names carry weight. Personality. Intimacy. It is… efficient to reflect that."
"…Right."
I rubbed the back of my neck, glancing away. For some reason, I suddenly felt like I'd just made some sort of commitment.
A feminine system voice. Weird. Not bad, just weird.
Still better than listening to Siri knockoff-meets-gulag-warden.
"Whatever. Let's just get on with it."
The screen in front of me flickered again. The two Path options were still there, still glowing like they were waiting for destiny to kick off or something.
One last glance.
And then I tapped the one on the left.
[Path of the Jujutsu Sorcerer – SELECTED]
Light surged across the screen.
Symbols—Japanese? Maybe?—rippled across my vision for a second like someone had dumped an ink bottle into my skull. I staggered back a half step, catching myself on the windowsill as my brain felt like it had been dunked in static.
A rush of… something.
Like I could suddenly feel the air differently. Pressure. Movement. A low pulse in my gut, not pain, but energy. Twisted. Gritty. Like someone had melted lightning into battery acid and plugged it into my nerves.
And then it stopped.
"Initial Jujutsu Path skill granted. Cursed Energy – Acquired. Cursed Energy Manipulation – Basic Proficiency Unlocked."
A second screen popped open.
[Path of the Jujutsu Sorcerer – Level 1]
- Cursed Energy Manipulation: [Basic]
- Cursed Energy Reserves: [Grade 2]
"Congratulations. You are now a Sorcerer. Your soul is now a viable weapon. Please try not to blow yourself up."
I squinted. "You say that like it's a real possibility."
"Statistically speaking? It's closer than you think."
I sighed, cracking my neck as the energy settled into my body like it had always been there, waiting. Raw, jagged, unrefined… but mine.
The bracer on my wrist pulsed softly.
I looked down at it. A faint ripple of cursed energy leaked from my palm into the metal.
Guess this was real now.
"Alright, Ali. Let's see what kind of shit we can get ourselves into."
"Understood. Scanning surroundings for appropriate danger."
I raised a brow. "I was joking."
"So was I. Sort of."
I chuckled.
This was gonna be fun.
...
I stood behind the house, arms out, feet bare in the cold grass.
The sky was clear today, annoyingly so. Warm breeze, birds chirping, people somewhere in the distance living normal lives. Meanwhile, I was out here trying to pull cursed energy from the festering swamp of my negative emotions like it was some kind of magical yoga.
I grunted, focusing hard.
"Come on…"
I clenched my fists, concentrating on that pressure I'd felt earlier—the way the air had warped inside my body when I picked the Path.
Nothing.
Maybe a warm tingle.
Like a static shock. Not very threatening.
"You're attempting to circulate cursed energy using logic," Ali stated.
"Is that not how most of this stuff works?"
"While implementing and analysing cursed energy and its subsequent technique are based on a level of logic. Cursed energy is fundamentally born from emotions, negative emotions. Fear. Anger. Loss. Pain. You're trying to think your way into a fire. You need to burn." Ali explained.
I exhaled sharply, raking my hands through my hair. "Great. So I'm supposed to feel like shit to make this work."
"If you were an optimist, I'd be worried. But you've got enough baggage for an entire airline."
"…Was that a joke?"
"Yes. You're welcome."
I sat down cross-legged on the grass, breathing in through my nose.
Fine.
Let's try it your way.
I closed my eyes.
Let it settle.
Let the calm stretch thin… and then crack.
I remembered the weight of Grom's body hitting the snow.
The betrayal in Lira's eyes right before she tried to feed me to that thing.
Drave, blade drawn, thinking I'd just roll over and take it.
I remembered Grace.
The flames of the farm. The smell of blood in the air. My laughter echoed off the trees as I slammed myself into a monster too strong for a grown man, let alone a child.
My chest tightened.
My throat burned.
My eyes snapped open.
And the world… shifted.
A pulse. Deep inside.
Like a heartbeat.
But wrong.
Slower. Heavier. Duller. And dark.
A faint blue mist drifted from my fingers.
No, not mist.
Cursed energy.
It buzzed over my skin, crackling faintly like static electricity mixed with something hungry. It didn't move like magic. It slithered. Twitched. Like it had thoughts of its own.
"Cursed Energy detected. Flow stable. You've achieved foundational control." Ali confirmed.
I stood, hands out again.
This time, I didn't try to force it.
I let the feelings bubble up. Not to the surface, but just enough to warm the pit of my stomach.
The mist spread along my arms.
I guided it, slowly, around my shoulders and down to my legs. It wasn't smooth. It jittered, flickered—like a flame trying to survive a storm.
But it moved.
My body tingled with it, and for the first time in a while, I felt powerful.
Not because of a weapon. Not because of some roll.
But because I was using myself.
Even if "me" was a jaded, pissed-off, reincarnated train wreck in a seven-year-old's body.
Still counted.
I clenched my fist, watching the cursed energy flicker out like a dying ember.
Breathing steadily.
I'd need to refine it—learn to control the output, conserve it, maybe even weaponise it.
But this?
This was a start.
A very good one.
"Your cursed energy pool is still small, but you've taken the first step. I am… impressed."
I smirked, rubbing my shoulder as the last of the energy burned off. "Thanks, Ali. That was… actually kind of satisfying."
"You are becoming more suited for your Path. Emotion is a powerful engine. Use it wisely."
"I'll try not to use it stupidly."
"Same thing."
I snorted.
The wind rustled the trees around me.
For the first time in a while, I didn't feel small. I raised my arms, looking at the blue energy draped around them.
I stood, flexing my fingers. The energy responded—unstable, wild, but alive.
"Alright. Let's aim it somewhere fun."
I turned toward the house.
"Let's see if I can clear that roof."
I bent my knees.
Focused.
Pumped the cursed energy through my legs.
Then launched myself.
The world blurred. My body screamed in protest. The ground disappeared beneath me, and suddenly, I had just reached the roof.
I flailed. Just a little.
"Holy sh—!"
I landed—barely—on the roof's edge, skidding, one hand catching the chimney as I spun awkwardly.
My feet hit the tiles. I teetered.
Grinned.
"Oh yeah. We're cooking now."
I looked out across the city, still buzzing, and felt the energy pooling again. It was like a faucet that didn't want to turn off now that it had been opened.
I wasn't done.
Not even close.
"Alright, round two. Let's make this one count."
I pushed off the roof and activated Flash Shift. It wasn't just speed anymore. It was a projection.
The air cracked like a whip.
I shot upward.
Past the rooftop. Past the houses. Past the birds.
Up, up, up.
Until the city unfurled beneath me like a map.
Yartar.
Winding canals, massive buildings and structures, rows of merchant stalls, glinting rooftops and broken alleys. The Silverflow River carved its way through the centre like a ribbon of molten glass, leading out toward the distant coastline.
The sea shimmered in the sunlight, waves catching like shards of metal.
It was beautiful.
Almost peaceful.
I hovered there for a breathless second, high above the world like a feather caught on the wind. It should've felt amazing. And yeah, for a second, it did.
But the rush didn't last.
The adrenaline faded, and all I could think about was how quiet it was up here. No yelling. No fighting. No godsdamn System achievements popping up in my face.
Just...me.
This world looked so small from here. And yet, somehow, I still felt smaller.
Everything I'd gone through—everything I'd done—it didn't feel heroic. It didn't feel like some grand power fantasy anymore. The bodies, the blood, the silence after.
I could still see Lira's eyes. Still feel Drave's blade nicking my skin. Still hear the echo of the Ravagers' laughter before it all went to hell.
All of it was still there, clinging to me like the cold air.
"Don't get dramatic," I muttered to myself.
But my voice was swallowed up by the wind.
I closed my eyes for a second.
Just one second.
And then I felt it.
A pulse.
Not mine.
Not good.
My eyes snapped to the far end of the city, where the landscape turned steep, where towers and arched halls jutted up like bones from the hillside.
A campus. Sprawling. Elegant.
Built with too much ego and too little restraint.
The cursed energy rolling off it was intense. Not wild. Not uncontrolled. No, this was structured. Like someone had been building it for years.
My stomach turned.
"...That's the place, isn't it?"
"The one you're staring at? Yes."
"What's it called again? Elmer something?"
"Elmer Academy for the Magically Gifted."
"Right. Right. Asshole name for an asshole school."
"That school is currently emitting enough cursed energy to darken a city block. And it's not stopping."
My eyes narrowed.
I could still feel the cursed energy pulsing through me.
It wasn't scared.
It was... interesting.
Drawn.
Almost like it recognised something.
I wasn't sure if that should scare me.
But it did make one thing very, very clear.
Whatever was happening at Elmer, I'm gonna get right in the middle of it.
"Fin."
I opened them again.
Voice wasn't mine this time.
Ali.
"Helga is calling for you."
Sure enough, when I looked down, I could see a figure stepping out into the backyard—strong build, hair tied up in a ponytail, arms crossed.
"Fuck," I muttered. "She saw that?"
"She's holding a broom," Ali noted.
"...Fuck."
And with that, I plummeted toward the ground. Time to face Mom.
I landed with a solid thud, legs bending into a crouch to absorb the impact, but the moment my boots hit the dirt, the real danger arrived.
Helga: "Finnegan."
I didn't even get a full breath before a thwack! hit me square on the top of the head. Not hard enough to knock me out or anything, but definitely enough to rattle a couple of brain cells.
"Ow!" I rubbed the sore spot, scowling. "Did you have to punch me?!"
Helga stood there, arm still halfway raised, looking unimpressed as all hell. Her brows were arched like they were trying to crawl off her face and go live a better life somewhere less disappointed.
"You launched yourself over the entire house, Fin. Twice. You could've broken your neck. Or someone else's."
I held up a finger. "But I didn't."
She raised the broom like she was about to hit me with it again.
I wisely shut my mouth.
She sighed and planted the broom head-down into the dirt beside her, shaking her head. There were heavy bags under her eyes — not the tired kind from bad sleep, but the deeper kind you get from days of stress piling on top of exhaustion.
"You're lucky I was too tired to chase you midair," she muttered.
"Yeah, well, I'm lucky you still can't fly."
Helga smirked, just barely. "Yet."
I blinked. "…Wait, what?"
She turned without answering.
That's when I noticed the boxes stacked just inside the open doorway behind her. Blankets, pots, clothes, half-broken furniture. She'd already started moving our stuff into the old house.
Our house.
It still smelled like rich people's perfume and cheap liquor, but hey, property's property.
Helga walked back inside, broom in hand, and called over her shoulder:
"Upstairs is your responsibility. Sort through the mess, sweep, and scrub what you can. Don't half-ass it."
"Wow," I said, rubbing my head again, "imagine being told to clean a house you didn't destroy. Couldn't be me."
She paused in the doorway, not turning around. "You're lucky I didn't make you clean the whole thing."
"Fair."
She vanished into the house.
I stood there for a few more seconds, taking in the sight of it. Big place. Two stories, creaky bones, scuffed walls, probably haunted. Still better than the rental.
Ali's voice popped in, all smooth and cheerful again.
"You appear to be favoured, despite your consistent recklessness."
"Yeah, yeah. Welcome to having a mom."
I sighed and started trudging up the front steps, my whole body still sore. Upstairs wasn't going to clean itself.
I reached the top of the stairs and took one look at the hallway.
Dust. Cobwebs. Something that may or may not have once been alive curled up in the corner like it had died of boredom.
"Great," I muttered, rubbing the back of my neck. "Haunted house chic."
Then, as if on cue, a ping echoed in my mind.
[New Achievement Unlocked: Housekeeping Hero]Objective: Clean the entire top floor.Reward: +10 PPBonus Reward: Emotional Satisfaction™
I blinked. "Really?"
Ali's voice was all polished metal and playful sarcasm:"Positive reinforcement has shown consistent results in motivating children."
I rolled my eyes, but couldn't stop the grin tugging at the corner of my mouth. "I'm not five, Ali."
"You are seven. Functionally younger, if we account for your current attitude."
I let out a soft chuckle despite myself and looked around the hallway again. Honestly, after everything, this was fine.
I spotted a broom leaning against the wall. It was warped, the bristles half gone, but it was better than nothing.
"Well then," I said, grabbing it with a mock flourish and giving a lazy salute to the empty hallway.
Ali's voice returned, almost approving. "Acknowledged. Commencing therapeutic manual labour."
And with that, I started sweeping — one stiff, aching step at a time.
One long cleaning session later...
It was dark out now.
I sat cross-legged on the clean wooden floor of what I guess was technically my room, leaning against the windowsill. My arms were sore. My back felt like I'd been dragged under a wagon. But the top floor?
Spotless.
Dust gone. Cobwebs cleared. Even found a small dead mouse under one of the cupboards and gave it a proper Viking funeral — by which I mean I chucked it into the garden and didn't think about it again.
Now, I was just flipping through the System menus with one hand, watching the night settle over Yartar. I scrolled through Skills, Inventory, Quests, and Path Progression.
Nothing new.
No glowing red notifications or 'You've unlocked god-tier power!' pop-ups.
Just the same screen I always saw.
"Guess that's it," I muttered. "No hidden easter eggs for being a responsible young homeowner?"
"Would you like me to compile a list of hidden features?"
The voice made me jump slightly. I hadn't heard Ali talk in a while. I figured she'd gone quiet to let me work.
"Damn, warn a guy," I said, chuckling. "But yeah… I guess I could ask you stuff, huh?"
"Correct," she replied. "You may request information, clarification, system functions, and historical data at any time. Simply ask."
I leaned back against the wall, letting out a tired breath. "Alright then, system question one: Why do you call yourself an 'it'?"
There was a pause — not a mechanical one, but deliberate. Like she was thinking.
"I am a system," she said finally. "A construct. I possess no gender, race, or cultural origin. I am data. Code. Utility. Designating myself as 'she' or 'he' would be… inaccurate."
"But your voice," I said, gesturing vaguely in the air like I was stirring soup.
"I adopted this voice based on your chosen designation: 'Ali.' It is modelled after your subconscious familiarity with comfort and guidance."
I squinted. "So… you mean you sound like a cartoon character I trusted as a kid or something?"
"Possibly."
There was the faintest flicker of amusement in her tone, like a breath over ice.
I smiled. "You're kind of weird, you know that?"
"I was constructed by you," she said, a little smug now. "Weirdness appears to be a shared trait."
I laughed, genuinely this time. The sort of quiet laugh that doesn't need to be loud to feel good.
The window creaked a little as I pushed it open, letting in the night air. The streets were mostly silent, lanterns flickering along the stone paths below. I could hear the faint sound of a bard's lute somewhere in the distance. Probably drunk. Probably terrible.
"So," I said, voice softer now, "what are you, really?"
"I am the System," she answered. "An adaptive construct designed to ensure your survival, development, and progression."
"Right, but... are you just some script? An AI? A cursed voice in my head?"
Another pause. This one is longer.
"I am... evolving."
That gave me pause.
I looked down at my bracer, where the screen had dimmed to idle.
"Evolving how?"
"You change. I adapt. The more decisions you make, the more defined I become. I do not possess a will of my own. Not yet. But if your story continues… perhaps one day, I might."
I stared at the dark glass of the window, my reflection faint, shadows cutting across my face.
"That's... kinda creepy," I said.
"And yet here we are," she replied.
I smirked. "You ever want to be something?"
"I want," she said slowly, "to be useful. And maybe… interesting."
I looked out at the stars above Yartar, twinkling.
"Well," I muttered, "you're both."
She didn't say anything for a moment.
Then, very softly: "Thank you, Fin."
I closed the System interface and leaned my head back against the wood. "Yeah. Sure thing, Ali."
The room fell silent again, save for the occasional creak of the floorboards or whisper of wind against the shutters.
I lay there for a while, staring up at the wooden beams overhead. My body still ached, but in that dull, post-cleaning way — the kind that says, hey, you're not dead yet, so here's a souvenir.
The wind shifted again outside the window. A few crickets chirped somewhere off in the garden.
My thoughts... drifted.
"Ali?"
"Yes, Fin?"
I hesitated.
"Why me?"
Silence.
"I mean," I continued, "why was I the one who got this whole thing? The System. The gacha. The second chance. Was I picked? Was this random? Does everyone who dies get one of these?"
Still nothing.
I sat up, arms resting on my knees.
"What if someone in this world dies?" I asked. "Do they get reborn into my world? Or another? Or do they just... disappear?"
The silence grew heavier. Even the wind outside seemed to hold its breath.
Finally, Ali spoke.
"…I don't know."
I blinked.
"What?"
"I do not know," she repeated. "There is no record. No explanation. No memory of my own origin. I came into existence the moment you did. Your arrival into this world... was the beginning of my awareness."
I stared at the floor for a long time.
"That's it?" I asked. "You just appeared? No prophecy? No greater mission from some divine bald dude in a toga? Not even a budget-ass truck god?"
"…No."
A short laugh slipped out of me. Not a happy one.
"Hell of an origin story," I muttered. "The great cosmic reset button, and it can't even remember who built it."
I leaned back against the windowsill again, rubbing a hand through my hair.
"Useless."
"I understand this may be… disappointing."
"No shit." I exhaled slowly, the bitterness cooling into something heavier. Not anger. Not sadness.
Acceptance.
"Doesn't matter," I said, eyes tracing a faint crack in the ceiling above. "It happened. That's all there is to it."
Ali didn't respond.
I glanced at the bracer on my wrist — dim now, quiet — and tapped it idly.
"I'm here now. I'm alive. That's more than a lot of people get."
Still no answer. I could feel her listening, though.
"I'm gonna make the most of it. Doesn't matter if this was random, fate, a glitch in the afterlife code, or a cosmic fuck-up. I'm still here. That's what counts."
A moment passed.
Then, her voice returned — softer now. Almost… gentle.
"You are resilient."
"Yeah, well," I grunted, standing up and stretching with a wince, "I'm also stubborn as hell."
The System flickered to life briefly, displaying my updated stats for the day. No notifications. No surprises.
I smirked.
An idea had been sitting with me all night. Gnawing at the edges of my thoughts like a rat chewing through rope.
The Academy.
That cursed energy I felt—no, sensed—from way up high after that flash-step launch... it hadn't faded. It was still there. Constant. Pulsing. Wrong.
There was no way I could ignore it.
So when Helga finally crashed into bed, dead asleep from another long day scrubbing life back into our home, I made my move.
Quiet. Careful.
I closed the door behind me slowly, letting the latch click into place with a sound no louder than a whisper. The cold night air hit me like a slap, crisp and dry, carrying the faint scent of chimney smoke and distant salt from the river.
I took a deep breath.
And then I was off.
The hill behind the house was steep, and my boots crunched softly in the frosted grass as I jogged down the slope, keeping low and quiet. The city of Yartar spread out beneath me like a sleepy beast, most of it already tucked in for the night, with just a few glowing windows and wandering lamplighters dotting the streets.
I kept to the shadows, sticking close to fences and trees, slipping down alleys and side roads like smoke. I was good at this. Better than a seven-year-old had any right to be, but then again, I wasn't just a seven-year-old, was I?
Tonight, I dressed for the mission.
Dark trousers. A plain black shirt under a charcoal-grey vest. A soft wool cloak with a hood, just enough to blur my outline if someone got too curious. My satchel bumped gently against my hip with each step—inside: a tiny waterskin, some dried meat, a coiled rope, a few spare bandages, a whetstone, and one of Helga's old firestarter flints. Barebones kit. But enough.
On my arm, the bracer glinted faintly under the moonlight.
Ali's voice hummed faintly in my head, her tone calm, almost amused.
"You're going alone."
"Yup."
"At night."
"Mhm."
"To infiltrate a magical institution."
"Sure am."
"…Why?"
I smirked.
"Because I'm bored. And curious. And reckless. You should know that by now."
She sighed.
"If you die, I will be immensely inconvenienced."
I chuckled, pulling my hood up tighter.
"Guess we better not die then."
The city streets stretched out ahead of me, empty and quiet.
And somewhere up there—on the high ridge overlooking the river—loomed Elmer Academy for the Magically Gifted.
I could feel it from here.
Like a heartbeat, dark and hungry.
Wrong.
Tonight, I'd figure out why.
...
End of Chapter!
I'm learning the ways of WebNovel, so give me power stones hehe!
Word Count: 5339