Taking a deep breath, I opened the system menu again.
(Time to figure out how to recharge fast. And maybe get stronger so I don't pass out every time I try something new.)
The interface blinked to life—smooth, glowing panels suspended in the air like something straight out of a sci-fi anime. I scrolled past the familiar [Creation] tab, ignored the cluttered [Inventory] (which only had a conjured pencil, eraser, and a few very questionable dollar bills), and stopped at something I hadn't really touched before:
[System Shop]
"OmniScript, show me recovery-related upgrades."
Immediately, the screen shimmered and reorganized itself with a digital hum. A new panel popped into view, its text glowing with a faint green light:
◉ [Energy Regen I Guides] – 50 SP
◉ [Martial Art of Kungfu Guides] – 100 SP
◉ [Energy Conversion Guides] – 120 SP
(Jackpot.)
My eyes zeroed in on the first option. [Energy Regen I Guides]. It looked simple. Clean. No unnecessary flash—just pure functionality. And at 50 SP, it was the cheapest of the bunch.
(Finally. Something that doesn't try to kill my energy bar faster than I can blink.)
I tapped it. The screen flickered, and a scroll-like document unfolded mid-air. Glowing text filled it—lines of strange breathing techniques, focus methods, and mental frameworks.
It wasn't flashy. Just… ancient knowledge. Pure scripture. No weapons, no flashy skills just refined mental discipline. And that was the thing about the System Points, or SP, as I'd come to call them.
I didn't earn SP through battles or quests like in those RPG games I used to play on my PlayStation 2. Nah, this was different.
I earned SP by meditating.
Yeah. Sitting cross-legged in my room like some old monk while my little brother watched Spider-Man 3 downstairs.
(Man, Peter Parker's fighting the Sandman while I'm up there channeling my inner bald monk.)
Still, it worked. Every session of meditation—ten minutes, twenty, sometimes an hour—gave me points. I didn't know why. Maybe it was a "mind point" system, like how focusing your spirit refines your connection with the system.
(Let's just call it Mind Points, or MP. Makes me feel like a wizard or something.)
And so far, all I could spend MP on were scripts. Not gear, not weapons. No "Sword of Doom" or "Laser Gun of Justice." Just… scrolls. Scriptures. Guides. Mental training. Stuff you'd expect to find in a forgotten temple or an abandoned kung fu dojo.
Abilities? Those were different.
Abilities or skills had to be unlocked through leveling up. Through strengthening my Attributes—the things the system tracked like Vitality, Stamina, Focus, and other cool-sounding stats I was still figuring out.
"OmniScript," I said aloud, "activate Energy Regen I."
[Energy Regen I Guide activated. Follow breathing sequence #001 for gradual stamina recovery.]
I sat down on the bench again, closed my eyes, and followed the rhythm laid out on the panel. It was basic stuff—inhale for four seconds, hold for seven, exhale slowly—but as I repeated it, I started to feel something.
A warm sensation crawled through my body. Not intense. Just… steady. Like the battery inside me was slowly being recharged.
The energy bar in the corner of my vision flickered upward ever so slightly.
(Okay… now we're talking.)
Ten minutes passed. I opened my eyes, feeling refreshed—not fully, but definitely better than before. The slime, now looking like a shiny blue blob of jelly armor, bounced in place.
(Still can't believe I made that thing. I should name it.)
I stared at it for a second.
"Slippy."
The slime wobbled. Either in approval or confusion—I couldn't tell.
"Alright, Slippy," I grinned, "time for phase two."
I stood up and opened the system again. Now that I had some energy back, I scrolled through [Creation] once more.
My fingers hovered over the blank interface.
(Let's see… I've made a pencil, some money, and a slime. What's next?)
I thought about armor. Or maybe a weapon. But even just creating a single object drained me. I had to pace myself.
Still, the idea of making a weaponized slime crossed my mind.
(Okay, okay—slime with a spike. Slime with laser vision? No. Calm down, me. Baby steps.)
I selected "Modify Existing Creation" and tapped on Slippy.
Modify Slime Attributes:
– Defense: +50% (Active)
– Offensive Potential: [None]
– Add: [Elemental Core] (Requires Level 15)
– Add: [Weapon Trait] (Requires Advanced Energy Control)
(Dang. Locked. Guess I'm still too noob for slime evolution.)
Still, I wasn't discouraged. I felt something growing—this hunger to improve. I wasn't just some scared kid trying to figure out a cheat code to life anymore.
I had the OmniScript System. I had a head start. I had potential.
I closed the menu and stood up, brushing dirt off my jeans. The sky above was turning orange—sunset was on its way.
(Time to head home before grandma thinks I got kidnapped again.)
I called to Slippy. The blob followed, squishing softly behind me like a loyal pet.
And as I walked back through the overgrown park trail, a quiet smile crept onto my face.
Because now, I had a guide. A path.
And soon, I'd be ready for whatever this system had thrown me into.
…
After finishing my training, I glanced down at Slippy—the tiny, squishy blue creature I'd somehow bonded with earlier.
"Little fella, head to my inventory for now," I said.
He blinked at me once, then vanished into shimmering particles, neatly stored away in my OmniScript inventory system like a good RPG summon.
(Inventory management. Peak efficiency.)
With that handled, I made my way back home. Grandma Helen and my little brother, Leo, would be waiting for me.
As I opened the front door, I heard the soft hum of cartoons playing from the living room. Leo was sitting cross-legged on the floor, his head immediately snapping toward me.
"Brother!!" he shouted with a grin, sprinting over and hugging my legs.
I ruffled his hair.
"Whoa there, little dude. Miss me already?"
(This little gremlin... too cute.)
I knelt down to his eye level. "You been good while I was gone?"
Leo nodded seriously. "Uhm!"
Then he glanced at my right hand.
I paused. (Ah. I know that look.)
He was eyeing the same spot I used to draw a dragon tattoo on—back when I was deep in my chuunibyou phase. I'd wave it around and say stuff like "This arm holds the sealed flame of the Abyss Dragon!" and he believed every word.
(Guess I gotta keep the act alive, huh? Keke...)
I leaned in close and whispered, "Don't tell Grandma... but my dragon hand?"
Leo's eyes widened.
"I've been training it. That's why I was out."
"I knew it!!!" he shouted, bouncing up and down. "Brother really is so cool!!"
(Hook, line, and spark of imagination caught.)
I raised my hand slowly, fingers spread, eyes narrowing like I was channeling cosmic power.
"Phase Two of the Dragon Seal… has begun."
Leo's mouth dropped open like I just transformed into a Super Saiyan.
"Wooooah!"
He started mimicking me—his tiny hands glowing with pure imagination. He pointed at the couch dramatically.
"Brother! There's an enemy hiding in the cushions!"
I nodded, dead serious.
"I sense it too. Must be… the Sofa Demon."
Together, we leapt behind the couch like elite shinobi warriors. I whispered,
"Alright, Leo… on my signal, use your ultimate move."
"You mean…" he whispered back, eyes shining,
"...the Ultra Galaxy Kick of Doom?"
I gasped.
"You've mastered that already?"
He puffed out his chest.
"I practiced on a watermelon."
Before we could launch the attack, a sudden voice cut through the living room like a lightning strike:
"Tyler Ezekiel Foster! Don't make your brother break the couch again!"
I froze. Leo froze. Even the imaginary Sofa Demon paused.
We both peeked our heads over the couch cushion like two guilty meerkats.
Grandma Helen stood in the kitchen doorway, wearing an apron that said "Grill Boss", holding a spatula like a warhammer.
"Don't give me that look," she said, squinting at us. "You broke the lamp last week doing some Kamehamama thing."
"It's Kamehameha, Grandma," I muttered under my breath.
"Don't sass me, Dragon Boy. Dinner's almost ready. Wash up. And don't summon any more demons before meatloaf."
Leo whispered, "Grandma's strong… is she a final boss?"
I whispered back, "No… she's the secret boss. The one even the main villain avoids."
We quietly retreated to the bathroom, pretending it was our "Power Chamber."
As we washed our hands, Leo giggled.
"Brother, when I grow up, I wanna train my dragon hand too."
I smirked.
"You will. But only if you survive… the Meatloaf Trials."
"NOOOOOO!!"
…..
After that day—and all of Sunday—I was still in the same old spot, tucked behind the library, surrounded by silence and nature's overgrowth. The once unfamiliar digital hum of the system menu now felt like second nature.
This place…
It became mine.
The old park, abandoned and forgotten by everyone else, became my training ground, my sanctuary, and now, the birthplace of my first creation.
Slimy.
He bounced softly beside me, his jelly-like body glistening faintly in the golden afternoon light.
(I don't wanna destroy this little fella. He's my first creation after all… kinda like my actual pokemon. Maybe even a friend like pikachu.)
Slimy wobbled, bouncing in place, the way he always did when I wasn't moving. It was cute—almost like he was waiting for my next command but didn't mind just hanging out.
(Man, this guy's got more loyalty than most people I know.)
I gave him a soft pat, though my hand just gently pushed into his gooey surface before it bounced back. He responded with a little jiggle.
"Good boy," I chuckled.
Then I stood up and stretched. My back cracked from sitting too long.
I looked at my hand—my right hand, the one I always used to create. The feeling was familiar now. The quiet charge in my fingertips. That tingle that built up every time I channeled power through the [Creation] tab.
(Alright, let's see if I can pull off something cool… something from the heart this time.)
I opened the system menu. My level had climbed to 12 over the last two days. Meditation, focus training, and practicing small creations had helped a lot. Still, I was nowhere near what I imagined the system could truly do.
(I still have a long road ahead. But… at least I'm walking it now.)
I tapped on [Creation].
The interface pulsed.
A blank canvas of potential hovered in front of me.
"Minimalist creation only," I whispered, more to myself than to the system. I didn't want to pass out from fatigue again.
Then an idea hit me—a memory, sharp and nostalgic
.
A glowing sword. The sound it made as it hummed in the movies.
Vrrrmmm…
Blue or green, sometimes red. A symbol of childhood, imagination, and dreams.
(A lightsaber… I've always wanted one. Since I was, like, five. Back when I used to swing around broomsticks pretending, I was a Jedi Knight.)
I smiled, just a little.
"OmniScript," I said quietly, "create a simplified version of a Star Wars-style saber sword. Nothing fancy. Just the shape and glow. No sound, no energy blade—yet."
Processing minimalist energy weapon frame… parameters adjusted. Energy cost: 30%.
I felt the draw immediately—like a thread being pulled from my chest. But it wasn't overwhelming this time.
A shaft of light formed in the air in front of me, slowly taking shape. Metal-like alloy formed from nothing, smooth and cylindrical. At the hilt, a faint glowing blade extended upward, about the length of a short sword.
Not pure energy—not yet—but a soft, translucent solid. Like a prototype. Like training wheels.
The saber floated gently in the air before I grabbed it.
It was warm to the touch. Buzzing softly, like it was alive.
(Holy shit. I actually made one.)
I swung it once—slowly. The glow left a streak in the air for a second.
No iconic vrrrmmm, but the feeling?
Exactly what I imagined.
"This… is amazing."
I held it up, eyes wide with excitement, like I was back in my bedroom as a kid watching Revenge of the Sith for the tenth time.
Slimy bounced beside me, reacting to my energy spike.
(You see this, little guy? We're making dreams real out here.)
I crouched down, lightsaber still in hand.
(If I can do this at level 12… imagine what I can do at level 50. Or 100.)
Weapons, tools, armor… even creatures. Entire worlds.
But for now, this was enough.
I wasn't just a kid anymore. I wasn't just another forgotten face in middle school. I had power.
I placed the lightsaber on the ground gently, watching it dim slightly but stay solid.
No fading. No collapsing.
It was stable.
Just like me—getting more stable every day.
"Thanks, system," I murmured, glancing at the interface as it faded out. "We're just getting started."
To be continue