The day started like any other—quiet, unblemished, and almost suspiciously peaceful. A low-hanging sun cast a pale, golden light through the blinds of Aetherion's small apartment, painting thin, uneven stripes across the dusty floorboards. The air was thick with the faint scent of old books and procrastination, warmed by the rising morning temperature. The only sound was the gentle, rhythmic hum of the small fridge in the corner, a sound so constant it had long since become a part of the silence itself.
Aetherion sat hunched in a chair that had seen better days, its once-proud wooden frame now a creaking, splintered mess that seemed to sigh with every slight shift of his weight. It was a chair that had given up on the concept of being upright and instead embraced a permanent, slouching recline. In his hand, a steaming mug of coffee radiated a familiar warmth. The first sip was pure bliss—smooth, rich, and just bitter enough to cut through the last vestiges of sleep. For a fleeting moment, he was almost convinced the universe wasn't as chaotic as it usually was, that today might just be a normal, uneventful Tuesday.
Almost.
The first sign of impending doom was a subtle twitch in his nose. A familiar, almost-forgotten tickle that sent a cold wave of dread through his stomach.
"Oh no…" he muttered, the words barely a whisper. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing the sensation to go away. "Please, not now."
But the universe, in its infinite cruelty, was not a fan of his Tuesday. The tickle intensified, building into a pressure that felt like a miniature supernova trying to escape his face. He tried to hold it in, clamping his jaw shut and pinching the bridge of his nose, but it was like trying to stop a tidal wave with a teacup. The sneeze came without mercy. A simple, explosive "achoo!"
The moment the sound escaped his lips, the world seemed to hold its breath. The coffee in his mug trembled, the blinds rattled, and the low hum of the fridge cut out with a pop.
Outside his window, the perfect, cloudless sky began to buckle. The clouds, what little there were, were violently torn apart, spiraling outwards from a single point directly above his building. They formed a perfect, impossibly circular void in the heavens, like a hole punched through a sheet of paper. A silent shockwave rippled across the horizon, scattering birds from a nearby park like confetti in a hurricane. For a few bewildering seconds, the sky looked like an abstract painting from a particularly confused artist.
And then, his gaze drifted upwards, past the chaotic sky and into the deep, dark expanse of space.
Somewhere far, far above, hanging in the silent abyss, the moon now sported a large, very obvious smiley face. The celestial body's craters had been rearranged with surgical precision, creating two massive circles for eyes and a wide, grinning arc below them. It was a celestial-scale doodle, a cosmic piece of graffiti that would likely be visible from every corner of the planet.
Aetherion blinked, then took another long, slow sip of his now-lukewarm coffee. "…Huh. That's new."
Before he could even process the lunar defacement, a translucent blue window shimmered into existence right in front of his face, its edges glowing with a soft, ethereal light. It was the same damned interface he'd been seeing for years.
[System Alert]
Congratulations. You have unlocked
[Lunar Modification Lv. MAX.]
Achievement unlocked:
["Bless You… And the Moon Too."]
Reward: +10,000,000 EXP.
Aetherion set his coffee down slowly, his hand shaking slightly. The mug clattered softly against the wooden table. He pinched the bridge of his nose, a phantom sensation of the sneeze still lingering.
"Okay," he said to the empty room. "First of all… why does this keep happening when I sneeze?" He ran a hand through his perpetually messy hair. "And second… did I just accidentally give the moon a face?" He sighed, a long, weary exhalation that was the product of a thousand similar incidents. "I'm not even surprised anymore."
Just as he was contemplating the logistics of explaining lunar graffiti to a concerned populace, a loud, insistent knocking rattled his apartment door. It wasn't the polite, neighborly kind of knock. This was the kind that said, *we know what you did, we saw it on the satellite feed, and we are here to panic about it.*
Aetherion opened the door with a groan, revealing a government agent in a crisp black suit, sunglasses still in place despite the fact that the sky was, you know, missing some clouds. The man was pale, his face a mask of barely contained terror. He was breathless, as if he had sprinted the entire way from his office to Aetherion's third-story apartment.
"Sir," the agent began, his voice a frantic whisper, "we need to talk about the moon."
Aetherion leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms. "Look, if you're here to fine me, I don't have exact change. Also, the smiley face is a work in progress. I think it needs a hat."
The agent's mouth opened, closed, then opened again like a fish out of water. He stared at Aetherion for a moment before simply handing over a small, laminated clipboard. On it, in very official, bold print, was a single, terrifying line.
DO NOT SNEEZE AGAIN.
Aetherion read the warning, a flicker of amusement crossing his face. He looked from the clipboard to the agent, whose eyes were wide with what could only be described as cosmic dread.
"Yeah… no promises," Aetherion said, a cheeky grin spreading across his lips.
Because the truth was, it wasn't just a random problem. He wasn't just a little strong, a little bit powerful. He was broken. Every stat—speed, strength, intellect, magical ability—had been maxed out beyond human understanding years ago. His "Battle IQ" was so high, he'd once accidentally predicted the plot twist of a novel he hadn't even started reading yet, ruining the book for himself. His powers weren't just immense; they were chaotic, unpredictable forces that bent reality around him without his conscious input.
And worst of all? The System liked him. It liked giving him powers he didn't need, titles he didn't ask for, and missions that somehow always interrupted his breakfast.
As if on cue, the blue System window shimmered into view again, its holographic text a familiar and unwelcome sight.
[New Quest: Totally Not a Big Deal]
Accidentally cause a global incident in under five minutes.
[Reward]: Legendary Fork of Infinite Noodles.*
Aetherion stared at the quest notification, then at the terrified agent, and then finally back at the lunar smiley face in the sky. He let out a long, theatrical sigh.
"…Yeah," he muttered, shaking his head. "Definitely a normal day."