There are many ways to start your morning:
With a fresh shower.
warm breakfast.
Maybe a calming meditation.
I woke up to a talking scroll on my chest screaming:
"CONGRATULATIONS, CHARISMA LANGSTON! YOU HAVE BEEN NOMINATED FOR STUDENT COUNCIL PRESIDENT!"
"Unsubscribe," I croaked.
Apparently, clearing a Chaos Dungeon without casting a spell earns you automatic school clout. Also apparently, there's a clause in Luxis Academy's charter:
"Those who bear unmatched charisma and unbothered vibes must take leadership roles. For balance or something."
Seriously. That's what the clause says. I checked.
At school, I tried to play it cool and just vibe in my corner.
Didn't work.
A literal parade formed around me. Banners floated in the air:
"Our Chill Savior!"
"Vote Charisma: He Won't Lead, But He'll Make It Look Cool!"
Slime wore a tiny campaign hat and was handing out cursed stickers that said,
"Charisma for Prez: He Didn't Ask For This."
I was going to kill something.
I marched to the student council office to put an end to this.
I flung open the doors like a man on a mission.
Inside?
It looked like the United Nations… if it were run by magical teenagers with trauma and overly dramatic fashion.
At the head of the room sat the current president: Virel Dawnshadow.
Elf. Senior. Absurdly pretty. The kind of person who sips herbal tea while plotting world domination via school regulations.
He stood up, adjusting his silver-trimmed coat.
"Ah," he said with a faint smile. "The anomaly arrives."
"I'm here to decline," I deadpanned.
"You can't."
"Why?"
He turned to a crystal orb behind him. It lit up.
"CHARISMA LANGSTON: 99.9% Compatibility with Presidency. Fate recommends YES."
"You checked my fate score?!"
"It updated after the dungeon incident," he said calmly. "Apparently, the God Chicken vouched for you."
"I—WHAT."
Suddenly, the doors slammed open again.
A girl strode in like she was on a runway made of flame.
"OBJECTION!" she roared.
Everyone turned.
It was Felora Emberglass, heir to the Flameweaver clan and walking definition of drama. Red cloak. Sparkling eyes. Power aura set to "Main Character."
She pointed directly at me.
"I CHALLENGE CHARISMA LANGSTON TO A DUEL FOR THE PRESIDENCY."
I blinked.
"I didn't accept the nomination."
"IRRELEVANT."
"I don't want it."
"COWARDICE IS NOT A STRATEGY."
The room gasped.
The crystal orb sparkled with excitement.
Even the plants in the corner leaned forward.
Virel chuckled. "You can't escape fate, Langston."
"Bet."
Now, in Luxis, duels are handled magically and professionally.
Normally.
But this duel?
It happened in the cafeteria.
During lunch hour.
With spaghetti as the terrain hazard.
I stood across from Felora, who now had fire wings and a battle chant composed by a bard major.
I had… leftover chicken nuggets and a soda can shield.
The duel bell rang.
"BEGIN!"
She launched a wall of fire shaped like a flaming horse.
I threw a tray at it.
The horse evaporated. So did my tray.
Slime screamed from the bleachers, "YOU GOT THIS, KING!"
Bubblethulu tried to start a slow chant, but forgot how rhythm worked.
Whisper handed me a toothpick and whispered, "Use it wisely."
It glowed. With ominous energy.
I didn't know what I was doing. I just swung the glowing toothpick like a flyswatter.
It hit Felora's spell mid-air—and exploded into a giant flashbang of pure apathy.
Her flames… fizzled.
Her hair frizzed.
She blinked, confused. "What just—?"
A second later, she slipped on a spaghetti noodle and crashed into a pudding fountain.
Silence.
The orb floated over the arena.
DUEL RESULT: VICTORY – CHARISMA LANGSTON
STATUS: "THE FATED PRESIDENT."
I just stood there.
Holding a burnt toothpick.
That's when the crowd went nuts. Chanting. Cheering. Throwing enchanted glitter in the air.
Virel approached, clapping slowly.
"You fought well, young chaos gremlin."
"I tripped her with vibes and soup."
He placed the student council badge on my chest.
"Exactly."
Later that day, I sat in the council room, now mine.
Stacks of paperwork towered around me.
Felora sat across the table, hair still drying from pudding splashdown. She sipped fire tea and scowled.
"I'll duel you again."
"Please don't."
"Next time, you won't have soup on your side."
She left dramatically. Cloak billowing.
Slime peeked in. "Wanna stamp these forms with a cursed seal I found?"
"No."
"Too late." Stamp.
Somewhere, deep in the school—something shifted.
A dark sigil formed in the air.
Someone whispered in an ancient tongue:
"The President has awoken… Phase One begins."
Also, some dude in Home Ec tried to bake a demon into a cupcake. We don't talk about that.
That night, I collapsed in bed again. Eyes barely open. Muscles limp. Fate laughing in the background.
I checked my phone.
One notification.
You've been added to: "Council of World-Enders – Emergency Chat Group."
I screamed again.
Into the void.