Invoketus sat on the cold stone floor of his cell, the silence broken only by the drip-drip-drip of what he hoped was water somewhere down the hall. After the initial shock of his banishment and the bizarre manifestation of his new "powers," a sliver of grudging curiosity had taken root. This "Chemistry" was absurd, an insult to the grand tradition of the five elements, but it was also… all he had. If he was going to figure a way out of this mess, he'd have to consult the ridiculously named tome that had embedded itself in his consciousness.
He closed his eyes, concentrating. "Alright, you glowing encyclopedia of boredom," he muttered under his breath, "Let's see what other insults you have for me today. Open 'Chemistry: The Central Science, 15th Edition'."
He waited for the familiar, crisp mental image of the textbook's cover—a vibrant, almost offensively cheerful graphic of bubbling beakers and swirling atomic models. Instead, he got… nothing. A flicker. A static-like hiss in the back of his mind.
He tried again, with more force. "Open, you blasted book!"
A new image finally resolved in his thoughts, but it wasn't the book he was expecting. It was a stark, black window containing pulsing, angular text, like a magical notice board for the truly unfortunate.
System Update: Premium content subscription expired. Access to "Chemistry: The Central Science, 15th ed." has been revoked.
Vokey's eyes snapped open. "Expired? I've had this power for less than a day!"
The text continued, a masterclass in bureaucratic torment.
User has been assigned a standard-issue e-digital book: "General Chemistry, 1st Edition". To access course materials, please subscribe to the Cengage Learning Platform.
The notification vanished, and in its place, the mental image of the new textbook solidified. It was dreadful. The cover was a single, drab color—the shade of week-old oatmeal. The title was printed in a blocky, unimaginative font. It radiated an aura of pure, mind-numbing tedium.
For a long moment, Vokey could only stare into the middle distance, his mind reeling not from the downgrade, but from the sheer nonsense of the words.
"'E-digital'?" he said aloud, testing the alien phrase. "What is that, a lesser demon of the archives? And 'Cengage'? Is that the name of the Arch-Librarian of the Underworld? A magical beast that feeds on knowledge?"
He surged to his feet, a dark suspicion blooming in his mind. The words didn't feel ancient or powerful. They felt… flimsy. Made up. Like something a second-rate trickster god would invent on the spot.
"This is a scam," he whispered, a new and profound certainty washing over him. "This whole thing is a complete and utter scam!"
He began pacing, jabbing a finger at the empty air. "Of course! No true cosmic power would use language this ridiculous! 'Learning Platform?' What am I, a student in some ethereal academy for the hopelessly damned? This isn't a fundamental force of the universe; it's some malevolent entity trying to sell me something! Something that doesn't even exist!"
The absurdity of it was staggering. He was being haunted by a power that was not only boring but was also trying to swindle him with imaginary products and services. He didn't know what an "internet" was, but he knew a con artist's pitch when he heard one. And this "system" was the most convoluted, poorly-thought-out con he had ever encountered.