"Wake up, sleeping beauty! Your lovely system has arrived!"
Theo's eyes shot open. Empty apartment. Shadows on the wall. Nothing.
He sat up fast. Impossible. No one got in.
The voice giggled. "Oh, come on. Don't look so panicked, Theo. It's your eighteenth birthday, remember? Your system is here. Me. Aria. A.A.I.—Advanced Artificial Intelligence. Try to keep up."
Theo froze. "…Systems don't talk."
"Most don't." A cheeky lilt in her voice. "But most systems are boring spreadsheets with zero personality. You, lucky boy, got me. Don't tell me you don't want me—I'd be crushed."
Theo scowled. "This… doesn't make sense. I've never read about a system with an A.A.I."
"That's because you read boring textbooks written by boring people who never met me." She paused. "Also, I'm rare. Very rare. Like one-in-a-billion rare. You should be flattered."
Theo exhaled, steadying himself. "Then explain. What kind of system are you?"
A drumroll sound effect rattled in his head, followed by her gleeful shout:
"Congratulations! You've awakened the Great Imagination System!"
Theo blinked. "…That's not real."
Aria gasped. "Excuse you. I'm standing right here. Well… floating in your head, technically. But still, rude."
Theo rubbed his temple. "What does it do?"
"Oh, just the coolest thing ever. If you can imagine it, and you've got enough points, I can make it real. Swords, armor, gadgets, fortresses, a ten-story statue of yourself flexing in the city square—your imagination, my execution."
"That…" He narrowed his eyes. "…sounds broken."
"Only if you're creative."
He ignored the jab. "But why me? Why this system?"
"Well," Aria said, sing-song, "normally no one awakens an SS-rank system. Doesn't happen. If you want SS, you have to grind a D-rank system up—painstakingly, slowly, blood-sweat-tears, the whole tragic journey. Only certain D-ranks even can go SS, and the rules are super picky."
Theo leaned forward. "What rules?"
"One, the system needs an A.A.I. Check." She gave a self-satisfied hum. "Two, it needs a theme. Double check. Three, it needs—well, me again, because honestly, what's a godlike system without a sparkling personality?"
Theo muttered, "So I got stuck with a prankster in my head."
"Correction—you got blessed with the best prankster in your head. You're welcome."
Theo lay back against his pillow, staring at the ceiling. His chest was tight, his mind racing. This was too strange, too different.
But Aria was already humming. "Sooo… what's the first thing you want me to make? A sword? A dragon? A sword made of dragons? Ooooh, that sounds fun."
Theo groaned falling back into bed. "This is going to be a nightmare."
Theo sat up again, rubbing his temples. "All right. If you're real, show me the system menu."
Aria's voice perked up. "Ooooh, magic words. You just have to think 'Open Menu'. Go on. Say it with feeling."
Theo rolled his eyes. "Open Menu."
A soft chime rang in his ears, and a sea-green screen shimmered into existence before him, hovering in midair. It rippled like water, yet the text and symbols on it were sharp and clear. Theo blinked. "...It actually worked."
"Of course it worked! What, did you think I was just some imaginary friend with a better sense of humor than you?" Aria's laugh tinkled in his head. "Go on, poke around. I won't bite."
Theo scanned the screen. Two glowing tabs floated side by side: Character Page and Imagination. Nothing else.
"That's it?" Theo asked.
"For now. Don't be greedy. Click your character page first. Let's see what kind of tragic stats you have worked for the past 18 years."
Theo tapped the glowing icon, and the screen shifted. A lifelike image of himself filled the center—sitting on his couch in the same clothes, hair slightly messy from sleep, expression as grim as ever. Stats and skills lined the edges.
[Character Page]
Physical Stats
Strength: 10
Stamina: 10
Constitution: 10
Dexterity: 10
Mystical Stats
Mind: 8
Spirit: 4
[Skills]
Basic Close Quarters Combat (C Proficiency)
Basic Shooting & Sniping (C Proficiency)
Basic Blades (C Proficiency)
Basic Footwork (C Proficiency)
Theo studied the numbers. " my hard work has payed off 10 is usually the max starting stat you can have."
Theo's eyes lingered on his maxed-out stats. "I didn't just roll out of bed with this. I worked for it."
Aria giggled. "Oh, trust me, I know. Mr. Perfect Attendance. Mr. First-in-the-gym, last-out-of-the-gym. Mr. 'I can't hang out, I have to do one more set of push-ups.' You're basically allergic to fun."
Theo frowned. "Discipline isn't an allergy."
"Ha! Says the guy who started paying his own rent at fifteen. You skipped the rebellious teen phase and went straight to middle-aged salaryman."
"I didn't have a choice."
"Sure you did. Most kids in your situation would've given up. You fought. You trained. You studied until your brain fried. Honestly, it's kind of scary."
Theo crossed his arms. "That's called survival."
Aria's voice softened for just a beat—though still playful. "It's also called obsession. You don't even know what it means to relax, do you?"
Theo smirked faintly. "Relaxation doesn't win tournaments."
"Wow. You really are a fun sponge." Aria let out a mock sigh. "But hey, look on the bright side—your boring, grind-it-out attitude is exactly why the Great Imagination System picked you. If anyone's stubborn enough to squeeze it dry, it's you."
Theo shook his head. "You make it sound like I worked hard just so I could get stuck with a prankster living in my head."
Aria gasped in mock offense. "Excuse you—I'm the best thing that's ever happened to you. Without me, you'd still be punching sandbags and counting macros. With me? You get to punch sandbags that breathe fire! Way more exciting."
Despite himself, Theo chuckled under his breath. "You're impossible."
"And you're uptight. We'll balance each other out. Don't worry—you'll thank me later."
Theo frowned. " i have an idea about my stats but Explain for me."
"Gladly!" she chirped. "So:
Strength is obvious—muscle, lifting, hitting things harder.
Stamina is endurance. How long you can fight, run, or survive without collapsing like a sack of potatoes.
Constitution is toughness—how much punishment your body can take before you crumple.
Dexterity is agility, reflexes, balance—basically whether you look like a martial artist or a baby giraffe when you move.
Mystical stats, though? That's where the fun begins."
Theo leaned in. "Go on."
"Mind governs your thinking power—how fast you process info, focus, strategize, resist mental attacks, and so on. Yours is an eight, which is decent. You're smart, just not supercomputer smart."
Theo nodded slowly. "And Spirit?"
"Ahhh, Spirit." Aria sighed dramatically. "That's your connection to energy, your mystical fuel tank, your mystical oomph. Four means your tank is… well… let's call it fun-sized."
Theo muttered, "So my weakest stat."
Theo's eyes flicked to the other tab. "Imagination…"
Aria's voice sing-songed. "My favorite tab! That's where the magic happens. If you can imagine it, I can build it—so long as you pay the point price."
"And if I don't have points?"
"Then you sit there wishing you had points. But lucky for you…" Her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. "You get one free use. No cost. A welcome gift from yours truly."
Theo narrowed his eyes. "One free use. No strings?"
"Pfft, no strings. Well, except for the string that says 'Don't be dumb and waste it on a sandwich.'"
He considered the glowing Imagination Tab, the possibilities stretching before him. One free creation.
Theo's jaw tightened. "Fine. Let's test it."