Chapter 31 – I ***** up
I paced around the apartment, knocking shit over just to hear it break. Fuck it. None of this was real anyway.
"System! Answer me, you little bitch!"
A loud ping cracked through the room. A message screen lit up.
Watch your mouth when you speak to me.
It had some nerve—demanding respect after locking me in here.
"Why should I respect you? You locked me in here after what—three weeks of having a skill and not sticking my dick into anything that moves?" I spat.
This time, no text. A voice.
"Twenty."
I froze. "…Huh? That you, system?"
"Twenty."
"Twenty what?"
"Twenty years."
"Pardon?" My voice cracked with frustration.
"You ignored me for twenty years."
"What? That doesn't even make sense. Look, system—"
"Not the system, you dumbass. There is no system."
I stood there blinking, brain buffering like bad Wi-Fi. "…Okay, now I'm really confused."
"Of course you are," it said, dripping with exasperation. And could a fucking program sound exasperated?
"First off, I'm not a program. And the system doesn't fucking exist."
"…Go on," I muttered, because honestly, I had no rebuttal.
"It's all me. I do it all."
"Riiiight. And you are?"
"Your skill. Obviously. I'm CHOSEN."
"…Yeah, sure. Makes perfect sense." I gave a weak laugh. None of this made sense at all.
My skill was sentient!?
"Yes and no," it replied, like it was rifling through my thoughts.
"Why does everyone do that? And why can everyone read my fucking mind!?"
"I was born with you. I'm part of you. Of course I understand you. I don't need to read your thoughts for that. I can, obviously—but I don't need to."
Great. A wiseass.
"How the fuck could you be born with me? I didn't develop any skills until I got isekai'd."
"False," it said flatly. "Just because you didn't have a screen popping up doesn't mean I wasn't there."
"…Man—"
"Look, stupid. All creatures are born with the potential to develop a unique skill. The one they get manifests based on personality, interests, instincts, blah blah blah. Yours was me."
"Okay, say I believe that. How come you didn't start talking to me until now?"
"Because I couldn't."
"Obviously." I dropped onto the couch with a groan. "Then how the fuck can I be ignoring someone who doesn't even talk? Make it make sense."
"I couldn't talk. But I gave you impulses."
I sat up fast. "…My libido? That was you!?"
"Exactly."
"You motherfucker! My adolescence was hell because of that! The first girl to let me smash blocked my number and slapped me with a restraining order—said I bruised her cervix. She walked with a limp for two months! Girls avoided me like I had the plague."
"…My bad, I guess," it said, like it wasn't its problem.
"My bad?! That ruined my rep for years!"
"You were ignoring me. You were supposed to embrace those urges, not repress them."
"I DIDN'T KNOW IT WAS YOU!" I roared.
"Know yourself, know your worth."
"I hate you."
"Eh, you'll get over it."
I dragged a hand down my face. "Fine. Why can you talk now?"
"Use your brain, man."
"…No." I melted deeper into the couch cushions.
"Mana. When you landed in the Wildreach, your body got flooded with it. I became… tangible. I could exert more will."
"Okay. But you still didn't talk."
"True. But I gave you the 'system.' I was helping."
I sighed. Hated to admit it, but the system had been helpful.
"Okay, sure. But if you were behind the system, then—"
"Yeah, most of it's bullshit." It said it so casually I wanted to throw the couch.
"Mostly? The fuck you mean mostly?"
"The stats, the character sheet, the skill names—all made up. I needed a format even a dumbass like you would understand. You don't grasp much, but you get games."
…Admittedly, it wasn't wrong.
"Cool. So what about booting me out of my own body?"
"That's new. To be fair, I wasn't me when I did that."
"Explain."
"Well, I thought I was some kind of AI assistant. All I knew was I had this intense need to be used, and you weren't doing it. Not the way I craved."
"And Damian is…?"
"About that? I wouldn't sign off on that debauchery either."
"Then why the hell—"
"When I created him… I may have fucked up."
"Clearly."
"Yeah. His personality got corrupted. He was supposed to be you, but with fewer brakes."
"This is what you call fewer brakes!?"
"I said I fucked up! Damn!"
I leaned back, exhaling hard. "…Alright. No use crying over spilled milk. But since we agree this dude's insane, can I have my body back?"
"Can't do that."
"Why?"
"My influence is limited. I was only able to confine you here because you were mentally and physically weakened. It was supposed to give you some kind of rest from the stress of your new life—but I was also pissed about being ignored, so here we are."
"…You're a dumbass."
"Well, I'm you, so…"
"Yeah, Roger. Shut up for a minute."
This conversation was… enlightening.
CHOSEN wasn't a system at all. It had always been with me. The isekai and the flood of mana just let it finally manifest, and now it could interfere in my life whenever it wanted.
Pest.
64 hours left. I could sulk, or I could use the time.
"System?"
"Chosen," it corrected.
"Yeah, whatever. How come Damian is so much better at mana manipulation than me?"
"He's a product of the world. It's natural to him."
"Makes sense, but it's still my body. Why can't I do that?"
"You can. You're just limited by your own perception and understanding."
"You're saying I can increase it?"
"Correct."
"How?"
"I don't know. Use some of that anime gamer knowledge."
Fucking useless as always.
But maybe it was onto something. In anime, how do monsters usually store mana? A core, right?
"…Aye, Chosen. What if I gave myself a mana core? Would that help?"
"Seventy percent chance it does what you intend."
"Seventy, huh? And if it doesn't?"
"Ninety percent chance it's negative for you. But it won't kill you."
…Thirty percent risk, almost guaranteed downside. Dammit. This was why I was locked here. Thinking instead of acting.
"Okay. I'll try it."
"Wait. There's a way to guarantee success. One hundred percent chance it works."
"Alright. I'm sensing a but."
"Survival rate is ten percent."
"…Why the fuck would I try that?"
"Because the benefits would be worth it."
"Like what?"
"Can't tell you. Spoilers."
"…Tsk."
It was always like this. Half-truths. Vague promises. But my gut screamed louder than my brain.
Go big or stay weak.
"…Alright then. Tell me what I need to do."