(Or: "No, I Will Not Reset the World, But Thank You for the Dramatic Offer")
Let's start with a completely normal morning.
I was trying to toast bread with a minor heat sigil. I burned it. The Spoon was lecturing me about "arcane fire safety" while using a miniature parasol to shade himself from a perfectly harmless candle. Fluffernox had decided gravity was beneath him again and was levitating upside-down near the ceiling.
So obviously, that was the day a magical terrorist cult declared war on reality.
System Broadcast: URGENT ANNOUNCEMENT
The Masked Ones of Echo hereby reject the authority of the System. We do not follow corrupted code. We do not obey glitch-born gods. We follow the Echo, and the Echo is Kael.
We believe he will reset the world. We believe he is the Key. We believe in the Chaos Sovereign.
I blinked at the floating sigil glowing in the air above the breakfast table.
Then looked at Spoon.
Then at my burnt toast.
"Was that... about me?"
"Seems likely," Spoon said, sipping hot milk. "Though I always suspected someone would start a cult about you. You've got charisma-damage-core."
"I literally just wanted toast."
"And they want apocalypse. Potato, potato."
Inner Me:
You know your life is spiraling when a group of mask-wearing rebels decide you're their chosen messiah before you've even brushed your teeth.
Sarcium:
You should've chosen decaf Reincarnation.
Let's rewind.
The Mask Cult—officially known as "The Children of Echo's Truth," unofficially known as "The Extremely Theatrical Glitch People"—were once System outcasts. Mages, scholars, defected priests. All exiled for refusing to accept the world's current magic order.
Then I showed up.
The boy born from a Reincarnation Typo™.
The Echo Vessel with forbidden glitch magic.
And they latched on like enchanted barnacles.
Cut to two hours later: The Academy assembly hall.
Headmistress Viridiana stood at the podium, grave as ever.
"This is a Code Red," she said, voice echoing across a hall filled with panicked students, furious professors, and one Spoon chewing popcorn dramatically.
"The Mask Cult has declared Kael our so-called 'Echo Sovereign.' They've begun attacking System outposts. They've released manifestos. Illustrated ones."
"Why illustrated?" I muttered.
"There was a centerfold," muttered Seraphina, mortified.
"Did I look good at least?"
"Kael," Belladonna said through gritted teeth, "you were on fire. Literally. Crown of glitch. Eyes like thunder. Shirtless."
"...Okay, but tastefully shirtless or—"
"KAEL."
"Just checking."
Then the real bomb dropped.
Viridiana looked directly at me.
"They want to extract you."
"Like a wisdom tooth?"
"Like a God."
Pause.
Deep breath.
"...Cool cool cool cool cool cool cool," I said, voice definitely not cracking, "love that for me. Not terrifying at all. Nope. Big fan of being abducted and worshipped by mask-wearing apocalypse monks."
"You'll be assigned magical security," she said.
"I have a cat and a Spoon."
"You now also have Belladonna," she said with a smirk.
Belladonna smiled, slow and dangerous.
"I volunteer as tribute."
I immediately felt both safer and more concerned for everyone else.
That night, they attacked.
Because of course they did.
Because nothing says "surprise cultist invasion" like Tuesday night dinner.
We were in the dining hall. I was just reaching for mashed potatoes when—
BOOM.
A wall exploded.
Dozens of masked figures flooded in.
Glitch sigils. Anti-System runes. Glowing eyes. Floaty cloaks. Extremely overdone eyeliner.
"KAEL!" one of them yelled. "WE'VE COME TO LIBERATE YOU!"
I raised a hand.
"Hard pass!"
"YOU ARE THE ECHO SOVEREIGN!"
"I AM THE TIRED SOVEREIGN!"
"YOU WILL RESET THIS WORLD!"
"I CAN'T EVEN RESET MY SLEEP SCHEDULE!"
Inner Me:
This is fine. This is fine. Just dodge the magic, scream something sarcastic, and try not to have an existential relapse.
Sarcium:
Too late. Existential crisis re-activated. Now in Ultra-HD.
Then the Spoon leapt from the table like an angry divine breadstick.
"YOU SHALL NOT KIDNAP MY BOY!" he bellowed, batting aside cultists with arcane force and chef-grade rage.
Belladonna was behind me, dual-wielding spells and insults.
Seraphina summoned a light shield with holy fire like the battle angel she was.
Aureline just stabbed someone with a salad fork.
"YOU DON'T GET TO STEAL HIM," Belladonna snarled, blasting a mask off someone's face. "HE'S OUR emotionally malfunctioning glitch-prince!"
"Wait, I'm what now?" I said, ducking a spell.
"Hush. You're inspiring."
Eventually, the attack was repelled.
Dozens of cultists fled, leaving behind only dramatic poetry, flickering illusion banners, and a LOT of emotionally confusing propaganda with my face on it.
I sat in the wreckage of mashed potatoes and treason, exhausted.
"I don't want to be a sovereign," I muttered.
Spoon patted my shoulder.
"Too bad, kid. They've already printed your poster."
"I'm literally not stable enough to lead a group project."
"That's why you're perfect. You're unpredictable. You're honest. And you're the only one dumb enough to not want the crown."
The System pinged.
[System Update: New Title Registered]
"Reluctant Sovereign – Echo Candidate"
Congratulations! You've now been officially recognized as the central chaos variable in a developing world rebellion.
Because why not?
Next Time on Kaelverse:
The Mask breaks. Kael sees a future he doesn't want. The Spoon becomes a therapist. And the prophecy gets even dumber.
Coming up:
Chapter 69 – "The Mask of Echo Breaks"
(Spoiler: So does Kael. Again.)
Because some mirrors reflect your soul.
And some just scream, "YOU'RE GOING TO DIE ALONE WITH GLITCHES IN YOUR HAIR!"