"I'm not a hero. I'm not a villain. I'm just a pissed-off guy with magical verbal abuse and a caffeine addiction."
The sun cracked through the curtains like it had a personal vendetta against sleep.
Alex Evans groaned, opening one bloodshot eye. His body felt like a lawsuit waiting to happen—bruises blooming like avant-garde tattoos, dried blood making his t-shirt stick to his skin like an awkward hug. And then there was the voice.
No, not a hangover hallucination. Worse.
[System Notification]
Quest Complete: Save 1 Civilian (Optional)
Reward: +500 XP | +1 Sarcastic Point
Level Up!
Level 2 to 3
New Spell Unlocked:
"Shut Up Shield – Level 1"
Blocks verbal attacks, nagging, and emotional manipulation.
"Fantastic," Alex muttered, clutching his pounding head. "Now I'm immune to family reunions and ex-girlfriends. Next spell better be 'Silence Aunt Linda.'"
His voice cracked like his faith in humanity.
He sat up, groaning. The girl from last night—the one he saved from that tentacled fever dream monster? Gone. Not even a thank-you sticky note. Rude.
But before he could dive into his favorite morning ritual—existential dread and stale coffee—he heard it.
Sirens.
Not the city ones. Not "oh no someone burned toast" sirens. No. These were deeper. Colder.
Containment sirens.
His spine stiffened. He stood and peered through the blinds.
Outside?
Black vans. Tactical armor. Sigils glowing like microwaved hellfire.
The letters on their jackets sent a chill down his sarcasm-laced soul: A.R.B. — Awakened Regulation Bureau.
"Ah, great," he muttered. "The Magical IRS. And I didn't even file my emotional taxes this year."
They weren't here to check on him. They were here to erase him.
Apparently, saving people came with strings. And surveillance drones.
Someone recorded the fight. And worse—they uploaded it.
Now, somewhere on AwakenedTok, there was a clip of him screaming insults at a ten-foot Dream Beast while glowing like sarcasm-powered Jesus.
Alex barely had time to grab his hoodie and boots before—
BOOM!
His front door detonated inwards like it owed the government money.
"Alex Evans!" a voice barked through magical reverb. "You are in violation of the Magical Regulation Act—Article 6: Unauthorized use of emotional-grade magic!"
Alex blinked. "Wow, Article 6? What happened to Articles 1 through 5? Do they just skip straight to 'shoot on sight' now?"
No response.
So he dove through the window.
Not because it was a good idea. But because fight-or-flight kicked in—and he sucked at both.
He bounced off the trash bins in the alley like a sarcastic pinball, rolled to his feet, and sprinted.
Behind him? A chorus of boots, spells, and government-grade passive aggression.
"Why the hell are mages always so cardio-obsessed!?" he wheezed, zig-zagging through narrow streets.
A beam of light seared past his head.
He turned, snapped his fingers, and yelled, "Hey! Nice spell accuracy. Did you graduate from Stormtrooper Academy?"
[Insult registered.]
Spell Activated: Shut Up Shield – Level 1
A translucent wall of glowing words—"NO U"—materialized and deflected a magic bolt like a middle finger made of light. The agent behind it screamed as the blast redirected into a dumpster.
Alex panted, flipping them off mid-run.
"I'm not joining your little Harry Potter cop squad, thanks!"
Two hours later, drenched in sweat and sarcasm, Alex ducked into the one place no agent would willingly go:
The Lower District.
It was the urban armpit of the city. A decaying hive of neon alleys, rogue guilds, broken dreams, and the smell of expired magic potions.
It was also where guildless Awakened went to survive. Or overdose. Sometimes both.
Alex had no plan. Just stubbornness and a growing suspicion that caffeine withdrawal might be his final boss.
Within thirty minutes?
Word had spread.
The rogue caster who roasted monsters and moonwalked out of A.R.B. custody was here. And every bottom-feeding guild wanted him.
"Yo!" a guy in purple robes with glowing abs jogged up. "You should join the Vein Wolves, bro! We've got free demon weed, open bar Tuesdays, and a streamer named HexxxyTitz!"
"I'd rather gargle bleach with a necromancer's toenails," Alex replied flatly.
"That's... fair," the guy admitted and walked away.
Next came the Cult of Smiling Flame, offering "eternal peace, flaming hugs, and matching robes."
Alex threatened to light their sacred robes on fire using sarcasm alone.
Then finally—finally—he found peace.
A dingy dive bar called "The Gutted Unicorn", where the furniture had more sentience than the bartender.
He sat in the darkest corner, nursing a warm drink made of probably alcohol and definitely regret.
Just once, he wanted to be alone with his thoughts.
Unfortunately?
His thoughts had company.
She dropped into the chair opposite him like she paid rent for it.
Short black hair. One cybernetic eye that blinked with corrupted rainbow code. Combat boots with "F**k Fate" etched in sharpie.
And a stun baton so big it looked like it had trauma of its own.
"Alex Evans," she said, smirking like a hacker on payday. "The mouth that casts spells."
He blinked. "Do I owe you money or an apology?"
"No. But your System's not supposed to exist. And I'm the only techwitch who can stop it from turning you into a magical suicide meme."
Alex sipped his drink. "That's oddly specific."
She leaned closer. "I've seen bugged Systems before. They glitch. They loop. They kill. But yours? Yours is evolving."
"Cool," Alex said. "Let me know when it unlocks a 'turn off notifications forever' button."
She grinned. "You need me."
"I need a nap and possibly therapy."
"Well, I'm cheaper and more violent."
He stared.
She stared back.
Fine. She had that "I know where you live and it's bugged" energy.
"Deal," he muttered. "But if you betray me, I swear I'll hack your Spotify and replace every playlist with Nickelback remixes."
Her lair was an abandoned arcade—retro lights flickering, arcade cabinets turned into spell servers, and a floating rune shark in a tank named T-Pain.
"Welcome to the Glitch Lab," Lia said, hooking his System up to a rainbow tangle of wires and regret.
The screens flickered.
Lines of code surged across her interface. Foreign. Alien.
"This… isn't Earth tech," she said. "It runs on… entropy. Emotional entropy."
Alex raised an eyebrow. "You saying I'm literally powered by emotional trauma?"
"Yes."
"So… the more emotionally wrecked I am… the stronger my spells get?"
"Yes."
"Awesome," he muttered. "My pain is a punchline. I'm the Deadpool of depression."
[System Sync Successful]
Personality Core Unlocked: The Broken Core
Welcome to Evolution Phase 1: Emotional Catalyst
New Abilities Unlocked:
Emotional Threshold Boost
Dark Humor Amplification
Unlock Path: "Insult Armory"
Alex exhaled. "What the hell is an 'Insult Armory'?"
Lia looked grim. "Weaponized words. Literal blades of sarcasm. Spells like 'Daddy Issues Dagger' and 'Burn of Betrayal.' The stronger your inner chaos, the deadlier you become."
Alex didn't respond.
He just stared at the screen.
It wasn't a game anymore.
This wasn't funny. Not really.
Because buried beneath the sarcasm, the wit, and the verbal fireworks…
Was pain.
Real, bitter, bleeding pain.
A flicker in the System triggered something.
A memory. Buried deep. Unexpected.
A boy. Six years old.
Crying in a hospital hallway.
A doctor saying "I'm sorry."
His mother—gone.
His father—gone.
A foster home that smelled like bleach and shame.
People saying "He's a strong one."
But no one ever asked what it cost.
Alex blinked back tears.
He wasn't a warrior.
He was a wreck.
A sarcastic, spell-flinging wreck trying to stay sane with jokes and caffeine.
Miles away, far above the chaos, the villain watched.
Lucan Zelios, wrapped in robes of shifting night, stared into a crystal shard replaying Alex's memory.
"Emotion-based evolution," he said softly. "He doesn't know yet. But he's the final variable."
His lieutenant—a pale girl with stitched lips and razor teeth—tilted her head.
"Shall I erase him?"
Lucan smiled.
"No. Let him hurt. Let him bleed. Let him build hope."
He held up a piece of a broken world—his own past.
"And when that hope peaks…"
He crushed it.
"...I'll be the one to shatter it."
Back in the arcade, Alex and Lia sat on a beanbag, eating burnt pizza and drinking expired soda.
"So let me get this straight," Alex said. "I've got a glitchy alien System powered by trauma, I insulted federal agents, and now I'm a walking WMD with abandonment issues?"
"Yup."
He took a bite of pizza.
"Well. Could be worse."
"How?"
"I could've joined that streamer guild and died of cringe."
Lia laughed, choking on soda.
"You're impossible."
"I prefer 'emotionally unstable with flair.'"
They clinked soda cans.
And for a moment?
Just a moment.
It didn't feel so godless.