[ERROR❌]
[User not ready yet, summoning based on current strength instead.]
A chaotic, black-purple aura exploded in front of Noen, thrashing wildly like a trapped shadow. From the darkness, a Giant Rat lunged outward, its yellowed incisors aimed directly at Noen's throat. Noen instinctively squeezed his eyes shut, bracing for the impact of a beast that, despite its name, looked like a nightmare to someone with his stats.
Bastien Crowe didn't even flinch. He watched the rat's trajectory with clinical precision. He calmly extended a single hand.
"Time Dilation."
Suddenly, the air seemed to thicken like molasses. The Giant Rat froze in mid-air, its snarl stretching into a grotesque, slow-motion yawn. It drifted toward Noen as if swimming through honey. Noen opened one eye, then the other, staring at the monster suspended inches from his face.
Crowe glanced at his wristwatch, his expression bored. "3... 2... 1..."
SHLORP!
The pressure of the distorted time snapped back all at once. The rat wasn't just killed; it was physically shredded into pieces. Purple ichor splashed onto the studio floor, leaving nothing but a foul-smelling stain. A deep red system window flickered in front of Bastien's face.
[Giant Rat eliminated.]
[LP gained: 322]
Noen's jaw hit the floor.—322? For that... tiny thing?—
"Wow, WOW, WOW!" Dylan Fraser sprinted toward Bastien, nearly tripping over a camera cable. He spun around to face the crew, his face lighting up with greed. "We got that on video, right? Tell me we got that on video!"
A cameraman peeked out from behind his lens and gave a frantic nod.
"I can't believe it! In our studio... seeing Bastien Crowe in action..." Dylan clutched his chest. "I never thought it would be possible!"
—322 LP...— Noen thought, his heart sinking. —That's the difference. That's how much the Affinity Stat actually matters. I bet if I had killed that thing, I wouldn't have even gotten half a point.—
Dylan smoothed his suit, instantly returning to "host mode." "And that actually leads us perfectly into a viewer question from... Leo! Leo wants to know: How does it feel to have one of the rarest roles in the world? How does it feel to be an Aetherist?"
Bastien leaned over toward Noen, his voice a low, private whisper that didn't reach the microphones. "Next time, pay a little more attention to what's in your pockets, alright?"
Noen swallowed hard and nodded. Bastien leaned back into his chair, regaining his effortless posture. "Honestly, for me, it's nothing special anymore. I've had this role since I was 16. I'm 39 now, and..."
Noen stopped listening. His mind was racing back to the pop-up. —But... why that Error earlier?— Noen remembered the jagged text of his system. —Why 'not ready yet,' but then give me the weakest magical beast as a replacement anyway? What is this all supposed to mean?—
The filming continued for another thirty minutes before the director was finally satisfied with the final product. "And that's a wrap!" Dylan Fraser shouted as the 'ON AIR' sign finally went dark. "Incredible. Simply incredible. We'll have the editing done by tonight. This is going to break the internet!"
Noen stood up from his chair and walked over to Bastien. "Uhm... thanks for saving me earlier."
Crowe smiled. "Nothing to thank me for. I'm here for the people when they need me, after all, and you're one of them. Even if you are a strange one." He started to laugh. "But in all honesty, I've never seen a message like that in a system before—that 'Error' thing. You should probably ask about it at the System Registry."
Noen immediately thought of Joris Gantz and practically began to tremble. "Y-Yeah, I'll look into it."
"All right then!" Bastien said, stepping out of his seat. "Maybe we'll run into each other again!" He headed for the door. "Bye!"
"Bye!" Noen called back.
At that exact moment, Ignaz came through the same door, squeezing past Crowe. "All right, Noen, that's it for Canada. We're taking the next flight directly to the United States!"
Noen let out a heavy sigh.
"You've got a commercial shoot today for a system insurance company," Ignaz added.
Noen reached the door and walked past Ignaz. "Is the car already here?" he asked, sounding completely unmotivated.
"Yeah, right outside!"
The two walked toward the exit. The young man from earlier was already saying his goodbyes, but he had to bite his lip to stifle a laugh. —To think this 'System's Mockery' guy—with every single stat under 0—is actually real...— he thought, pressing a hand over his mouth to hide his grin. Noen noticed it as he passed by, but his eyes were already on the taxi waiting outside. He climbed in, with Ignaz following close behind.
In the back of the taxi, Noen pulled out his phone and scrolled with a heavy thumb. It was the same as always: a digital graveyard of his self-esteem. Memes of him being kicked by a slime, "Top 10 Reasons Why Noen Cain is the System's Mistake," and endless threads of people comparing their mediocre stats to his just to feel better about themselves.
The taxi driver, oblivious, turned up the radio. The hosts were laughing about the upcoming Celebrity Circle episode. "They say he actually summoned something today! Probably a magical hamster with a limp."
Noen let out a low, bitter grump and leaned his forehead against the cold window, closing his eyes until they reached the airport.
Before he knew it, they were in the air, cruising toward New York City. But for Noen, it wasn't a flight, but a torture chamber. Because his Vitality was still sitting at a miserable −50, his body treated the cabin pressure like a slow-acting poison. He felt like his bones were made of glass and his stomach was a washing machine on the spin cycle. He spent most of the journey wobbling to the restroom, leaning on the flight attendants as they led him back and forth with looks of poorly hidden disgust.
Ignaz, meanwhile, sat in the window seat, comfortably reading a newspaper from last week.
"Can we... maybe swap—" Noen wheezed, his face a sickly shade of grey as he returned from his sixth trip to the bathroom.
"Not a chance," Ignaz replied, flipping a page with a crisp snap.
Noen groaned and slumped into the middle seat, clutching his stomach. To his left, in the row ahead, he noticed a flickering light. He peeked through the gap between the seats and saw an elderly woman watching a live news feed on her phone.
—Someone clearly didn't turn on airplane mode.— Noen thought tiredly. He was about to look away when the audio from the woman's device cut through the hum of the engines.
"Breaking News! A gargantuan magical beast has just manifested in the airspace between Canada and the USA! Authorities are warning all civilian craft—"
BOOM.
The world didn't just shake; it tilted ninety degrees. A sound like a thunderclap inside the cabin deafened everyone. Out the window, for a fraction of a second, a massive, leathery fist—larger than the plane's entire wing—smashed into the fuselage.
The impact was catastrophic. The left engine vanished in a ball of orange fire. The ceiling panels snapped open, oxygen masks dropping like yellow ghosts as luggage, laptops, and food trays were launched into the air like missiles.
"WARNING! WARNING! WARINING!"
The cockpit alarms began to blare a rhythmic, terrifying scream: Whoop-whoop! Whoop-whoop! The plane entered a violent, stomach-churning spiral, the G-force pinning Noen into his seat as the scream of tearing metal filled the cabin. People were shrieking, their cries lost in the roar of the wind rushing through the fractured hull. Noen's vision blurred. He looked at Ignaz, who was finally dropping his newspaper, his face pale with realization.
"A-Are we crashing?!"