When The System Spoils You For No Reason-Chapter 61 - Sixty One

"The mind is its own place, and in itself can make a heaven of hell, a hell of heaven." — John Milton

---

Yo, it’s me again.

Who else would it be but me?

Why am I having this conversation with you?

Just let me simmer in the silence of the void.

Who knew silence could be this loud?

That doesn’t even make sense.

You don’t make sense.

How can my mind be arguing with me?

You’re supposed to agree with me.

Says who?

Me... You?

Ahhh.

Zeke lay flat on his back, arguing with his own conscience.

Time had passed—longer than any stretch before it. Long enough that the measure of it had lost all meaning.

Now, he’d lost his marbles.

No, I haven’t. Why are you even narrating like that? You’re not a spectator or some almighty narrator—you’re me. I’m you. We’re we.

"Oh, fuck this."

He sat up abruptly, voice cracking through the void.

"C’mon, Tower. Is this what you want? You want the main character to rot here with mental illness? What about my brothers—you know they can’t do without me."

More like you can’t do without them.

Who called you?

Me.

"Ahhh—"

Zeke stood, arms spread wide in mock triumph.

"I’m happy here! Peace of mind! My mind has evolved—I can hold conversations with myself in perfect peace. So yeah, your trial? Failed."

He waited, grinning into the nothingness.

Did that work?

{ Of course not, you fool. }

Zero’s voice cut through his skull like static given form.

Zeke’s head snapped up. "Zero?"

{ In the flesh. Well, as fleshy as I can be. }

"That’s about zero flesh."

{ I know. That’s why my name’s Zero—I’m made of zeroes and ones. }

"That’s not why I named you Zero, but that’s way cooler." Zeke’s grin widened, genuine for the first time in what felt like eons. "So—is the trial over?"

{ It’s not over. But SAGE hijacked it. } Zero’s tone carried the digital equivalent of a shrug. { Why the Tower thought it could suppress SAGE, I’ll never understand. }

{ Anyway, time to get back to the real world. The Tower and SAGE have beef now. } A pause. { You didn’t like the Tower anyway. }

"That’s cool and all," Zeke said, scratching the back of his head, "but what about my friends?"

{ If you didn’t pass, you think they would? }

"Doesn’t make sense. But also makes sense." Zeke’s lips twitched. "Are you making up a reason to pull me out? Is SAGE... scared?"

He barely held back laughter.

{ Shut up. }

---

Light shimmered.

The void dissolved.

Zeke materialized on pavement—cars rolling past, pedestrians weaving between crosswalks, the hum of city noise filling his ears like a forgotten song.

He blinked, disoriented, then recognition flickered across his face.

"This looks like the street near that restaurant. From my early days."

{ Yeah. SAGE transported you to an anchor. This one’s yours. }

"So SAGE is scared?" Zeke’s shoulders shook with suppressed laughter.

[ The System is not scared. It is simply protecting the weak host. ]

Zeke froze mid-step. "Did SAGE just talk?"

{ Must’ve gotten tired of your bullshit. }

"Ha! And he said he wasn’t an intelligent system. ’Talk to the AI, I’m not intelligent’—but you can clearly defend your pride." Zeke’s grin turned wolfish as he mocked the empty air.

"Give me your money."

The voice cut through his internal monologue like a knife through paper.

Zeke tilted his head, slow and deliberate. "Really?"

A man stood three feet away—hoodie pulled low, hand shaking slightly as it gripped a gun aimed squarely at Zeke’s chest.

"Give me your money or I pull the fucking trigger." 𝕗𝕣𝐞𝐞𝘄𝐞𝚋𝚗𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗹.𝚌𝕠𝚖

Zeke’s expression flattened. "Eh? I don’t think that’ll work, stranger. Best you move along—I just came back from a very long trial."

He ruffled his hair dismissively, shooing the robber like a stray dog.

"Give me your money."

"Aish." Zeke scratched his ear, annoyance creeping into his tone. "Are you a robot? Shut the fuck up and move, man."

He took a step forward.

BANG!

The sound cracked through the street.

Zeke looked down.

Blood bloomed across his shirt, dark and spreading fast.

"Eh?"

The robber had shot him.

This doesn’t make sense.

BANG!

Another shot—louder, closer.

Zeke’s knees buckled. He hit the pavement hard, palms scraping concrete.

This really doesn’t make sense. I’m stronger than this.

Bullets can’t harm me. Especially normal ones.

Hell, I’m immortal.

His vision blurred at the edges. His chest felt heavy—wet, wrong.

Am I... dying?

He collapsed forward, blood pooling beneath him.

The robber stepped closer, crouching to rifle through Zeke’s pockets. His hands came up empty.

"You’re broke?"

The robber’s voice carried frustration, disbelief.

"You made me waste bullets. These are fucking expensive."

BANG!

BANG!

Two more shots—vindictive, angry.

This bastard. If bullets are expensive, don’t waste them.

Heh. I’m thinking about bullets when I’m dying.

I’m really dying.

I’ve never died before.

It’s not what I expected.

Zeke’s eyes slid shut.

---

...

---

"I’m alive?"

Zeke’s voice—but not his voice. Higher. Unfamiliar.

"This isn’t my voice."

"Die, zombie!"

Before he could process the words, his vision inverted—world flipping upside-down as something heavy separated from his shoulders.

Why’s there a headless body?

And why am I seeing things upside-down?

THUD.

Pain flared—dull, distant.

Ouch.

Wait. Something fell.

Is that... me?

"You don’t have to pray for the bodies you behead."

A voice—gruff, amused.

"Even zombies deserve prayers after their death."

This voice was closer. Zeke tilted his gaze upward—or what remained of it—and saw boots. Then legs. Then a torso that stretched impossibly high.

A... giant?

Wait.

Zombies. Behead. Headless bodies.

Is that me?

Am I dead again?

Oh, fuck.

Zeke’s vision went dark.

---

...

---

"I’m alive?"

---

...

---

"I’m... alive?"

Zeke tested his vocal cords—cautious, deliberate.

He waited. Two seconds. Three.

No gunshot. No beheading. No sudden death.

"Phew. Safe."

He exhaled dramatically, arms spreading wide like a referee calling a safe play in a wrestling match.

CLICK.

Eh?

Arrows erupted from the walls—dozens of them, shafts punching through flesh with sickening precision. A rotating blade descended from the ceiling, bisecting him cleanly at the waist. Fire roared from a hidden mouth in the stone, engulfing what remained.

I stepped on a trap?

Isn’t this too much for a little misstep?

---

...

Micheal’s Pov

---

It’s been eleven years since I found myself in this parallel world.

Today is my awakening.

I awakened on my birthday—the same way I had in the real world.

Is this even a fake world?

Am I going back to my world?

This is supposed to be a trial. But I haven’t found an objective to complete.

A trial should have requirements. Something it tests. A standard one must meet to pass.

Or fail.

I’d like to believe the trial is me having emotions. But what’s the standard for passing?

Have I passed?

Am I close?

Or am I failing?

This is frustrating.

Being human is frustrating.

Not that I never was.

Hah. Have I developed Zeke’s sense of humor?

Anyway. Back to my monologue.

It’s been eleven years. I’ve had to endure human emotions.

It’s been a rollercoaster.

If it weren’t for the fact that I’m in a trial, I wouldn’t want to leave.

My emotions scream stay. But logic demands I find a way to pass.

It doesn’t help that I refuse to lose to Zeke and his ragtag group.

Speaking of—I’ve tried finding them here. They’re living normal lives, it seems.

Zeke’s still living as my sources described in the other world.

Yeon awakened recently as well.

She’s older than me by months.

I hate that.

I decided not to disturb her. I’m not really ’friends’ with her.

I’m waiting for Zeke to come out of his shell.

As for me—I awakened as I had in the other world. The only difference: I don’t have the trait that makes me an emotionless monster.

I’ve even come to detest that form.

Yes. An illogical thing.

Hating oneself.

Especially over something I had no control over.

Well, I could have simulated emotions better. But I just didn’t care.

Ahh. Now I care. Perhaps too much.

But these emotions of mine have let me enjoy a life I didn’t have. I have a functioning relationship with my father.

Heh.

Unlike the person I played in the other world, I’m quite a reliable young master.

Why am I calling it the ’other world’?

It’s the real world.

But what if it was all a dream?

A way to cope with being the reason my mother died.

Excessive thought really does come with emotions.

I know my role. I know what I’m supposed to do.

This world is not real.

It is all a trial.

---

...

---

It’s been four years since my last major breakdown.

I’ve had minor ones over the years.

But I’m fine.

I’m bothered by the fact that Zeke has yet to come out of his shell.

He’s yet to even move out of his small apartment.

He didn’t trigger the money-laundering trap. He didn’t move to the villa.

By this time in the real world, he’d already met the children of the White Fang Guild.

Oh—and the guild seems to have an issue with Avalon recently.

Familiar. Like the beginning of an arc.

Yeon’s back, so probably she’ll solve it.

I haven’t aimed to enter the Tower.

A foolish mistake, I know.

But I wanted to enter the Tower with the group I entered with.

For sentimental reasons. And to test a theory.

If we all entered, would the trial reset?

A trial within a trial.

Funny, right?

Nobody told me emotions came with mental issues.

Maybe it’s because this is the archetype I resonated with.

I have a project I’m overseeing. I’ve invested too much.

Once it’s done, I’ll take matters into my own hands.

I’ll go meet Zeke.

---

...

---

I shouldn’t have procrastinated.

I never procrastinate.

It seems to be a result of emotions.

Emotions are so complex.

The exuberance of emotions made me forget something important.

With the squabble between White Fang and Avalon at hand, I should have remembered—it was at this point Zeke fought a dragon and survived.

Made friends with it, even.

A fact that made me interested in him.

At least, that’s what anyone would do, I’d thought at the time.

He’s quite the enigma. Able to make me interested, yet not on a level that seemed emotional.

Now, because of my failure, the continent is near doom.

Are dragons this powerful?

The attacks of Ameriga’s strongest are almost antlike against him.

Anyone who manages to graze him gets healed instantly.

And not to mention his ability.

Or abilities?

I’m of the idea that it’s a multipurpose ability.

Especially with Zeke able to copy it.

According to data, he’s only able to copy one ability at a time.

But this is another level from what I saw Zeke use against the demon.

Ahh. The demon.

I forgot about it.

I should be able to kill it.

What rubbish.

Questioning if I can kill something?

In the original world, I would burn this dragon as easily as breathing.

Squash the demon with raw strength.

Ahh. The exuberance of power.

Something I couldn’t relish. It was just a normal facet of my being.

Not that I can relish it now.

I’m weak.

I basked in emotions. I didn’t even take my training seriously.

I should have noticed my procrastination.

But I couldn’t. I had pride in my traits. My talent.

I lazed around, enjoying youth.

Well—even though I was lazy, I reached a decent amount of strength.

But compared to this dragon... well.

Ahh. I hate rage.

I hate this dragon.

"Father."

I called out to my father, voice steady despite the tremor in my chest.

"I’m going to do it. Protect my shell."

I’ll move all my stat points to magic power. Charge up the right amount of firepower to burn him to death.

One that will bypass his damage reduction.

It’s obvious he has damage reduction.

I believe it’s a common factor with these types of monsters.

The demon seemed to have it.

And from records I read in the other world, dragons that appeared displayed qualities of such nature.

Academics noted it.

I’ve returned to calling it ’that world’.

I’ll deal with it after I kill this dragon.

After announcing my plan to my father, I flew up toward the dragon.

I’d moved my stat points—significantly boosting my magic power. But in return, my physical stats are suffering.

A sneeze from this dragon could kill me.

Well—that’s if I don’t quickly reallocate my stats to endurance.

I am the ultimate warrior.

Heh.

Focus.

"Hmm. A human mage?"

The dragon turned his attention from the people attacking him.

Leaders of Ameriga. People who normally would make the average man look like an ant.

Now, to the dragon, they are ants.

They can’t even scratch him.

He was only giving them attention because he was bored.

Is this fear?

I’m quite scared, to be honest.

Reports did say it was impossible to move in his presence.

It seems he lifted it so we could provide entertainment.

Heh.

You’re dead for that.

"No. You’re not a mage. You just possess a large amount of mana. Is your ability one that seems like magic?"

The dragon continued, voice curious—almost conversational.

I gave no answer.

I was quite scared.

But I was also gathering enough firepower to kill him.

"Oh. No answer. I really like magical types of abilities. Rather than those deviant types. Mine’s like magic—spatial magic. What’s yours like?"

Silence.

"No answer?"

It seemed he got angry.

Did he just kill council members because of anger?

"I have a magical type. You want to see it?"

I finally answered.

I didn’t want him to kill me.

Heh.

But he won’t be answering me.

A raging flaming lance materialized before me. I quickly compressed it, fueling it with all the ’mana’ I had.

I fired it with precision at his chest.

The compressed lance pierced through.

Blood fizzled.

"Such powerful magic."

No. No no no.

I tried to teleport with the last embers of magic power I had.

"Ah. Teleportation."

Ah. He’s here.

I’d successfully teleported. But he’d appeared before me with speed I didn’t notice.

"I almost died. If you were stronger than me, you could have killed me."

His voice carried amusement—light, almost playful.

"But, child, I can’t die to someone weaker than I am. No matter how much you supercharge your attack. We may be equal in rank, but in actual power level... tsk. You just fall a little short."

"But their attacks wounded you."

I held my empty shoulder, covering the bleeding stump where my arm used to be.

Though I’d teleported, I’d lost an arm to his invisible attack.

"Oh, them. I had to give them hope."

He smiled—wide, sharp.

"I’m a dragon, child. A very high-ranking dragon. Well, actually, in human age, we’re the same age. But to me, you’re just a naive child."

"Your world is naive. You must have faced dragons with lesser bloodlines. Boy—when next you see a dragon, run."

He said it with a smirk.

Would there be a next time?

Maybe if I died, I’d return to the other world.

I can’t even fault myself for calling it the ’other world’.

My hands are shaking.

Death is guaranteed.

Is this final?

I’m unwilling.

I don’t want to die.

I’m scared.

Dad?

I looked toward my father.

Huh?

Why did it seem like he was coming closer?

Stop. You’ll die.

"Fa—"

"Michael, run!"

My father threw a runestone toward me. It seemed to be a one-time runestone.

What’s in it?

No. What are you planning, Father?

"A teleporting stone. But you have a teleporting ability. Oh yes—you used up your mana with that spell. Sorry it didn’t work."

That bastard dragon’s smiling?

"Run, little boy. I feel you have potential. I’ll be waiting on this continent for five years. Better come for revenge."

As I shimmered away, I saw the dragon turn to my father.

He swung his arm without care.

I couldn’t see the result.

But I knew my father wouldn’t survive.

I appeared in a forest.

I can’t look around.

My father’s dead.

My friends.

My family.

This is a trial.

End, dammit.

This is too much.

I remember the name of the dragon.

Karys.

"Dragon Karys... wait for my revenge."

I brought this upon myself.

I should have remembered.

I should have trained.

I killed my mother.

Now I’ve killed my father.

Why me?

Michael cried. Michael bawled his eyes out, fists hammering the ground until his knuckles split and bled.