The receptionist had eventually called in emergency crews to handle the cleanup. It turned out that an operation against the magical beasts in this forest had been planned for a long time, but the orders had been buried in government paperwork and never followed through.
"Morning, Noen," Ignaz said, sitting in the back of a taxi.
"H-hello," Noen replied tiredly as he stepped out of the hotel, yawning and sliding into the back seat.
"You're still wearing the same clothes from two days ago," Ignaz noted, holding his nose in a clear gesture of disgust.
"Yeah, well, I don't have any others," Noen muttered.
"You could have bought new ones," Ignaz said.
"With what money?" Noen shot back.
Ignaz sighed and tossed a shopping bag over, filled with normal casual clothing. He also threw a stack of stapled papers toward him. "Anyway, put this on. And here's your schedule for the next three months."
Noen set the clothes aside and looked at the papers. His heart sank. "17 countries in 16 days?" He stared at the ink, unable to trust his own eyes.
"Well, you're the first and only one with a new rank since the dawn of humanity," Ignaz explained. "Of course every ad agency, TV studio... everyone wants you."
Noen looked down at the floor of the taxi, his grip tightening on the papers. "But... I checked social media last night, and..." His voice cracked, a raw, hollow sound. "I'm famous, sure, but only because my system is so bad. Everyone is laughing at me... they're finding it funny. They're using me as a joke to make themselves feel better. They compare their own lives to mine just to feel superior."
A single, hot tear traced a path down Noen's cheek. . "That... that hurts, you know..."
He turned away, staring out the window as the forest blurred into the distance. After a long silence, he sat up straight and wiped the tear away with the back of his hand.
"Speaking of the system," he whispered. He summoned his overlay. —Kaelin mentioned Focus, so...—
[5 LP Points taken away from your available LP.]
[5 FOC added to your FOC Stat]
I have to get to zero as fast as possible, Noen thought. At least then, the negative stats aspect will be gone.
They drove for several hours until they reached a massive, gleaming skyscraper. Ignaz paid the driver and they stepped out, entering the grand lobby.
"Welcome! Everyone is already waiting for you. Or better said, for you, Mr. Cain," a young man at the entrance said with a professional smile.
"Where should we go?" Gantz asked, taking off his sunglasses.
The man pointed toward a stairwell. "Down those stairs, then once to the left through the door labeled 'Recording.' Then you'll be there!"
The two followed the directions, descending into the heart of the building. When they stepped into the recording room, they were met with a massive green screen and two chairs set up for an interview. One of the chairs was already occupied.
"Bastien Crowe?" Noen asked, his mouth hanging wide open.
Gantz's jaw dropped just as far. "T-The one with the SS...S System Rank...?"
Bastien Crowe turned around. "Ahhh, you must be that Noen... right?"
He stood up and shook Noen's hand. Noen, who still hadn't quite grasped that he was standing in the presence of a living legend, let out a small, startled cry.
"I... I love you! I used to watch your Best-Of Compilations all the time! Y-You were the one who..."
"Who defeated the Ancient Wyrm, also known as the Death Dragon... yes," Bastien said, finishing the sentence with a practiced, calm smile.
Ignaz watched from the sidelines, his mind racing. —That Wyrm was 50 meters high and nearly burned Toronto to ash. Over 400,000 dead... and this man took it down alone.—
A woman in a sharp suit carrying a tablet burst through the door. "We start recording in five minutes! Get ready!" She left as quickly as she had appeared.
Immediately, a swarm of makeup artists descended upon Bastien Crowe, meticulously touching up his stage makeup for the third time. Noen, however, was completely ignored by the crew. He had to scramble to change into the clothes Ignaz had given him as fast as possible. Cameras were being angled, lights were adjusted, and the tension in the room rose until a young man in a suit stepped in front of them with a microphone.
A voice boomed over the studio speakers: "AND... ACTION!"
The host began to speak with high-energy charisma. "Hello and welcome to Celebrity Circle! I'm Dylan Fraser, and today we have the legendary SSS-Rank System owner and hero of the nation, Bastien Crowe, with us!"
The cameras panned smoothly over to Bastien. "Thanks for the invitation," he said smoothly.
"Additionally," Dylan continued, his tone shifting slightly, "we have the officially weakest human in the world with us—also known across social media as 'The System's Mockery'..." He pointed directly at Noen. "NOEN CAIN!"
Every spotlight in the room swung toward Noen at once. The intensity was blinding, the white heat of the lamps making him squint his eyes.
"Y-Yeah... uhm... exactly." Noen stammered, his vision swimming in the glare.
Dylan Fraser grinned, leaning into the camera with practiced ease. "Today, we have some popular questions from you, the viewers, which I will now ask our two guests here!"
He turned toward Bastien and Noen, his movements theatrical. With a flourish, he produced a thick envelope from behind his back and began pulling out small slips of paper, selecting them blindly for the audience.
"The first question is from... Lilly!" Dylan announced, pausing for dramatic effect as he scanned the paper. "Lilly wants to know from Noen..." He looked up, his eyes gleaming under the studio lights. "What does your Rank 0 actually mean?"
Noen sat there, the heat of the spotlights suddenly feeling like they were burning through his skin. He opened his mouth, but the words felt like lead in his throat. He didn't have an answer—nobody did.
"Uhm..." Noen stammered, his eyes darting toward the floor.
"Probably that he doesn't even have one!" Dylan interrupted, bursting into a loud, mocking laugh that echoed through the recording room.
The sound of the host's laughter felt like a physical weight. Noen recoiled, shrinking even further into his seat.
The voice over the loudspeaker shouted: "CUT! That was good for now."
Noen raised his hand, his face still flushed from the humiliation. "Could I quickly go to the bathroom?"
"Yeah, but make it fast," a producer said from behind the cameras, already looking at a script.
Noen stood up, his movements clumsy and rushed. But as he tried to step away, his foot caught on the suit he had been forced to take off so quickly before the shoot. He lost his balance and fell hard toward the studio floor. As he hit the ground, a sharp, crystalline ringing echoed through the room—a sound far too heavy and ancient for a simple TV studio.
"W-What was that?" Bastien Crowe asked, his eyes narrowing as he leaned forward.
Noen's system flickered wildly in front of his face.
[No suitable magic beast found, summoning the closest match possible.]