—I'm just saying... — Rémy, covered in bruises, with strands of hair still ablaze and a cluster of arrows embedded in his back, barely found the strength to speak. —If my life is going to be in danger every time I come to this place, the least you could do is turn my future summons into soulless husks. That way, I could control them from somewhere comfortable and safe. ¡Like a hive mind!
He pointed at Richie with the stump where his arm used to be. A few drops of blood splattered onto the other man's expensive gems and Mayan symbols.
—¿And where would the fun be in that? —the other replied.
—Well, it would be inside your-
The prize from the expedition slammed right into Rémy's face. It was a statuette of dark jade and weathered gold. An object that had lain buried for centuries deep within a forgotten altar. Barely the size of a clenched fist, the piece depicted a deity curled atop an obsidian pedestal; its limbs were twisted at unnatural angles, and jasper fangs jutted from a mouth frozen in a silent scream.
Rémy stumbled, clutching the object to his chest and ready to unleash a curse, but a sharp snap of Richie's fingers cut off any complaint. In the blink of an eye, the fire in his hair went out, the arrows embedded in his flesh dissolved, and all the accumulated damage evaporated into thin air, restoring his body to pristine condition.
—¿Why don't you just shove a quick explanation into their heads? —Rémy blurted out, ignoring the miracle of having his arm back. —Something like, 'Congratulations, you're in this hellhole now!' or whatever. It would save me the hassle of explaining everything from scratch every time a newbie shows up.
Archie gave it some serious thought.
As he left the "excursion", as he had started calling them, he examined the statuette from top to bottom, trying to figure out how to redeem his rewards.
—Good news and bad news —he told Shinji, who for some reason was sweating profusely. —The good news is that I can finally stop drawing and recycling slides. The bad news is that I still haven't gained absolute control. I guess you can't have everything in life.
Since this was his third excursion, he held high hopes of finally securing a natural-born warrior to venture into remote areas in search of curses; after all, for the past few days, those bastards had stopped appearing anywhere in his hometown. Or at least, that was his hope, provided someone else, and not him, would be the one to redeem the prize. He recalled how Eric had obtained excellent rewards by interacting with the system's welcome gift in exchange for a pesky curse. It wasn't unreasonable to expect Shinji to have similar luck. Without a second thought, he handed the figurine to the boy.
But the boy didn't move. Baffled —and weighed down by the exhaustion of having survived an Aztec temple infested with traps and vermin— he decided the best course of action was to bring the artifact closer and rub it repeatedly against Shinji's face.
—Come on, bro. I just want to go home and take a loooooong, relaxing bubble bath.
Shinji remained silent. Slowly, he raised a hand and pointed straight ahead. Rémy turned his head and locked eyes with three girls standing just a few meters away, studying them in total silence. They wore clothes that looked to him like something out of another era, and painfully impractical ones at that.
—¿What's up? — Rémy murmured, giving them a friendly nod before turning his attention back to Shinji. —Like I was saying, I think you just have to touch this thing and...
The words died in his throat. The gears in his brain finally connected the dots. In a split second, the color drained from his body. His face twisted into an expression of sheer panic, freezing in place before seemingly cracking apart. The older woman, dressed like a classical priestess, watched as the remnants of the field trip's dome vanished into thin air. Then, she slowly turned her head and fixed her cold gaze directly on Rémy and his companion.
—So, it was you —she blurted out.
—Uh... ¿S-sorry?
«¡¿Could she see the System's dome?! No, wait—that has to be impossible!»
Rémy thought, feeling like he was having a mini heart attack. In any decent story with RPG elements —whether a generic fanfic or an animated series— summoning zones and System menus were completely invisible to the rest of humanity. It was the most basic cliché of all: the protagonist could summon a dungeon right in the middle of the street, and NPCs or civilians would simply go about their lives without noticing a thing. It was supposed to be a private miracle! The fact that those three were analyzing his System's architecture threw years of useless knowledge about fictional tropes right out the window.
It must be something else.
—Your doing, I suppose — the woman murmured, pointing at a cross.
A Grade 4 Curse was crucified there, screaming as small pins repeatedly pierced its back and ribs; amidst the sobbing, one could almost make out its pleas for death.
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—BROADCAST ROYALTIES—
Status: Reward received.
Details: Your depraved ideas have deeply disturbed two second-year sorceresses.
"You're sick!"
Sorcerers/Curses ensnared by a psychopath's twisted mind: 2
Credits earned: 800
—BONUS RECEIVED—
Milestone reached: You have encountered the school of sorcery for the first time.
Additional reward: 1,500 Credits.
New title unlocked: [Potential Public Enemy of Sorcery].
Title effect: Increases the initial hostility of any shaman or sorcerer toward you by 15%. (Just kidding, lmao)
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«Oh, they're just sorceresses.» Rémy sighed in relief as he closed his eyes. Then, he opened them again, now mapped with throbbing veins. «!They're sorceresses!»
¡Those weren't magical girls shooting rainbows!
—¿Are you talking about that totally normal cross embedded in the ground? It was already there when we arrived.
He blurted out the lie instantly, completely suppressing the panic that threatened to consume him. His astonishing lack of nervousness —and the almost sociopathic ease with which he delivered the excuse— made the woman doubt her own eyes for a split second.
—There's no need to be nervous. We just came to talk— she said, raising her hands in surrender as she slowly approached.
«Oh man, I am so screwed.» An imperceptible tear slid down Rémy's face.
"The Sorcery Academy."
That was a cheap euphemism for a slaughterhouse for teenagers. From everything he had read, he knew it was a place that recruited psychologically traumatized youths to use as cannon fodder against invisible aberrations born of human depression and hatred.
It was a clandestine educational institution with a mortality rate so high that graduating with all one's limbs and sanity intact was the true anomaly. Even though they were technically the "good guys", and the protagonist's group was among their ranks, Rémy didn't trust them at all. Official organizations were known to protect the average citizen only on paper; in practice, much like the police, they were rife with corruption, murky agendas, and despicable individuals looking only for personal gain.
¡He didn't need to watch the anime to know that!
For every step the woman took forward, Rémy took three steps back.
—¡Can you stop being such a crybaby?— One of the sorcerers, specifically the one with short, greenish hair, stormed over and raised her voice. —¡We already told you, we just want to talk!
At Mai's angry shout, Utahime quickly silenced her. The moment she saw the two boys, she knew immediately that something was wrong. The total and absolute absence of cursed energy. At first, she had assumed it was a Heavenly Restriction. That strange condition that stripped away cursed power in exchange for other physical advantages or boosted reserves; a rare anomaly they shared with one of their students and her twin sister.
But, upon observing their… rather average physiques and their obvious cowardice, she immediately dismissed that possibility. Still, she was convinced they were a pair of novice sorcerers who knew little to nothing about the dangerous world they had stumbled into. They didn't seem to belong to any of the great traditional families.
«Ordinary people who have just awakened their cursed energy» Utahime surmised to herself.
And, it seemed, prodigies possessing highly peculiar cursed techniques. Not far away, the torture device continued to relentlessly crush the curse.
Now was the time to attend to another of her duties as a semi-Grade 1 sorcerer and a teacher responsible for a group of young people. The number of active cursed energy users was always worryingly low; consequently, anyone born with the necessary talent had to be located, recruited —ideally with their consent, of course— and brought to the sorcery school to train until they were capable of standing up to curses.
And standing before her were not just one, but two individuals possessing that valuable talent. She had to convince them, prevent that damn moron Gojo from exerting a bad influence on them first at all costs, and do everything in her power to ensure they ended up enrolling in the Kyoto Jujutsu High. Filled with resolve, Utahime turned around, determined to deliver her best recruitment pitch, only to find herself staring at the backs of the two teenagers, who were already speeding away, taking advantage of her distraction.
—You've got to be kidding me...
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Clutching the briefcase, Rémy grabbed Shinji and jumped inside.
—¡Quick! — Rémy shouted. —¡Just activate it—maybe a Doomguy will make them think twice!—
—¡¿But what am I supposed to do with this?! —Shinji replied, terrified as he struggled.
Instead of letting go, Rémy shoved the statuette right against Shinji's chest, forcing him to hold it with both hands.
—¡Press the button, rub it, chant a prayer to the Aztec gods, I don't know! —Rémy demanded, shaking him desperately by the shoulders. —¡Improvise, you idiot! ¡They're going to send us to work overtime in hell!
—¡It doesn't "have" a fucking button!— Shinji shrieked, trying to shove the artifact back at him.
—¡Well, make it work with the power of friendship!
Meanwhile, Momo was searching for them from the air, scanning every inch of the terrain. It didn't take long to pick up a lead: a strange, thunderous humming was coming from the dense forest foliage, accompanied by erratic flashes, tiny bolts of lightning, and small bursts of light erupting directly from a rather old-fashioned-looking briefcase. She narrowed her eyes and went into a nosedive. Just centimeters before she could grab it, the briefcase suddenly flew wide open, and Rémy's head —launched outward by the chaos of the activation— slammed right into her.
They both tumbled to the ground, rolling across the landscape amidst curses and groans. Dazed and with his heart pounding a mile a minute, Rémy stumbled to his feet. The first thing he did was frantically pat down his body, fearing he might be missing a limb.
—¿¡What hit me?! —he asked aloud.
A strange, dusty object, which could only be the first reward, struck her in the face the moment it was summoned. Seeing that he was still in one piece, he summoned her character tab with trembling hands to check for collateral damage. Rémy blinked, reading the new notification that had just materialized before her eyes.
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— REWARD 1/6 (RANK C) —
TYPE: Psychological Alteration Curse / Conditional Polarity
NAME: "Two-Faced Syndrome: Lunch's Sneeze"
DESCRIPTION: Spiritual residue from a peculiar bank robber who terrorized the deserts of another universe. Legend has it her soul was split between two absolute extremes —naive purity and unbridled hostility —which would swap control of her body due to a simple nasal allergy.
EFFECT: Permanent reactive personality disorder. Every time the user sneezes, their hair color changes radically, and their morality completely inverts. If their usual state is calm, calculating, or cowardly, they transform into a reckless, extremely aggressive entity with a lethal affinity for heavy artillery or extortion. Another sneeze reverts them to their original state. The altered personality rarely sympathizes with the plans of the peaceful personality.
NOTE: The system deems that any tactical problem or tedious diplomatic debate is best resolved by pulling an automatic machine gun out of thin air. Carrying a pepper shaker in one's pocket at all times is recommended.
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Rémy's eyes flew open.
—You've got to be fucking kidding me...
Just as with Eric, a new curse had been inflicted upon him the moment someone else redeemed a reward. It was either an unfortunate coincidence or punishment for his cowardice. Scenes of Lunch suffering, in one way or another, because of her condition in Toriyama's work flashed through Rémy's mind at breakneck speed. He recalled the character's constant anxiety upon waking up surrounded by bags of stolen money, explosives, and unconscious people, with not the slightest memory of what her psychopathic alter ego had just done. He remembered how he could be peacefully preparing dinner one moment and, because of a bit of pepper, end up pulling out a machine gun to riddle the entire house with bullets.
A barrage of bad news. His usual self was the kindest soul imaginable, pure and honest as an angel, someone who always helped others and actively sought to support them. If all that were to be inverted...
Rémy didn't even want to think about the monster he would become. But the dust, summoned along with the curse, still hung thick and aggressive in the air, tickling his nose.
—¡No! I... I can't-
His desperate attempt to hold his breath failed. His eyes squeezed shut, and the inevitable grimace broke across his face.
¡Achoo!
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I woke up with a biting chill in my chest.
¿What was I supposed to be doing? My memories were as blurry as... as a mole's. Yes. A small, cute, near-sighted mole dragged forcibly from the earth.
I slowly stood up, water dripping from the puddle that had soaked my clothes. A lock of my white hair (¿had it always been that color?) hung in a complete mess over my forehead. Normally, waking up in the middle of an unknown forest would have sent me into a panic. Yet, the landscape was so serene and beautiful that I barely cared about realizing I was completely lost.
¿Did it even matter? Living life worried about every little inconvenience was a total hassle.
¡No, the truly alarming thing was that I wasn't wearing a bra!
However, as I looked down to assess the situation, I noticed there wasn't much to hold onto, either... Maybe I hit my head and have amnesia now. I'm sure that's it.
While I was deep in thought, a voice —so gentle it made me want to hug the person speaking— snapped me out of my reverie. Turning around, I found a girl about my height lying on the ground, in pain, with a streak of blood running from her nose to her chin. Without a second thought, my own memory loss took a back seat. Seeing such a small girl hurt triggered an immediate alarm of concern in my chest. I hurried over to her, kneeling beside her on the damp grass.
¿Hey, are you okay? — I asked in the softest voice possible, reaching out clumsily and hesitating over whether I should touch her. —Your face is bleeding; let me help you
The girl blinked in confusion, raising a hand to her forehead as her gaze slowly focused on me. She let out a small whimper of pain and glanced around, as if she'd lost a broomstick in the fall, before fixing her eyes on my face.
—What... what happened to me? —she murmured, scrunching up her nose as she felt the warmth of the blood.
—I haven't the faintest idea, but hold this — I said quickly, rummaging through the pockets of the loose-fitting garment I was wearing until I found a surprisingly clean handkerchief. —Press it gently before you stain your clothes.
I leaned in a little closer to wipe away the drop of blood running down her chin with extreme care. She froze at the gesture, rooted to the spot, gazing at me with a mixture of utter bewilderment and suspicion. Clearly wondering who this white-haired stranger was and why I was treating her as if she were a fragile snowman.
The girl was startled. She jumped to her feet and spun around, looking for something, or perhaps someone.
—¿Are you lost? —I asked, clasping my hands together enthusiastically. —¡What a coincidence, so am I!
I was on the verge of suggesting we embark on a journey of self-discovery together, a wonderful adventure that would bring us closer. Unfortunately, she spoke first.
—¡The guy!
—¿The guy?— I repeated, tilting my head.
Speaking as fast as she could, she described the disheveled appearance of a psychopath they were trying to track down. She didn't even say thank you; she just grabbed a broom from the floor and ran off somewhere.
I didn't take offense. She was clearly in a rush. From the bottom of my heart, I wished her all the luck in the world. However, a shiver ran down my spine as I processed her words. ¿A dangerous psychopath on the loose in this beautiful place? I swallowed hard, feeling fear begin to settle in my chest. Being alone and unprotected was definitely not a good idea. I needed to get away from there as soon as possible to avoid running into such a terrifying man.
I turned around, ready to look for a safe path, when a soft glimmer caught the corner of my eye. In front of me, floating peacefully in the air, a small, luminous orb appeared. It drifted toward me, emitting an almost musical hum.
Anyone in their right mind would have recoiled or fled in terror at such a strange phenomenon, but I was utterly captivated. It was beautiful. like a star trapped inside a bubble. Smiling in wonder, I approached on tiptoe. Without a thought for the consequences or a moment's hesitation, I raised my right hand and wrapped my fingers around the mysterious sphere of light.
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— REWARD 2/6 (RANK B) —
TYPE: RELIC WEAPON / MYSTICAL TRANSFORMATION CATALYST
NAME: Demigod's Star-Hook
WORLD OF ORIGIN: Moana / Disney
A hook of colossal proportions, magically carved from the bone of a mythological creature and covered in intricate engravings that glow with a blue light when channeling energy. System records indicate it once belonged to a legendary hero of wind and sea who had serious ego issues, moving tattoos, and a strange fondness for musical numbers.
PRIMARY EFFECT: Grants the wielder the ability to instantly transform into any animal imaginable. By striking the hook against the ground, the user can switch between physical forms ranging from a giant hawk to a tiny insect.
SECONDARY EFFECT: While wielded, the user's physical strength scales to mythological levels, allowing them to hook and pull objects of absurd weight, snare giant monsters, or deflect heavy magical projectiles.
DRAWBACK: The weapon has a will of its own and demands synchronization. If the user hesitates, feels fear, or lacks proper control over their energy, transformations will fail miserably. It is highly likely you will end up as a shark's head with chicken legs or a pig with fins in the middle of a fight.
NOTE: The system suggests that singing "You're Welcome" with an arrogant attitude after saving someone increases the transformation success rate by 15%. Stay away from giant crabs and kleptomaniacs.
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A translucent screen appeared before me, but I paid it little mind compared to the light show emanating from the orb. And that massive fishhook —which I could have sworn I'd seen before —was slowly descending toward me.
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Name: [BLOCKED] – ¿And who are you?
World of Origin: Jujutsu Kaisen (Formerly Earth)
Type: THE OPERATOR (Supposedly) / Reincarnated
--------------------------------------------------------
—INVENTORY—
[Demigod's Star-Hook]
[Eye of Discretion (Butters Variant)]
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—ACTIVE STATUSES AND EFFECTS—
1. Jusenkyo Curse Type: Transformation curse / Biological alteration
Permanent effect: Upon contact with cold water, your body immediately changes to the female sex. Pouring hot water on yourself reverses the transformation.
2. TYPE: PSYCHOLOGICAL ALTERATION CURSE / CONDITIONAL POLARITY
EFFECT: Permanent reactive personality disorder. Every time the user sneezes, their hair color changes radically and their morality completely inverts.
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—ATTRIBUTE PANEL—
System Alert: The following attributes have been restricted due to excessive mediocrity.
STRENGTH: [LOCKED] - Requires lifting something heavier than excuses and complaints.
STAMINA: 4/????
AGILITY: 7/????
INTELLIGENCE: -200/???? - Classic
CHARISMA: 400/????
LUCK: 350/????