(Or: "I Wasn't Built for Thrones, But I Do Look Good on a Metaphorical One.")
Let's set the scene:
Dawn broke like a dramatic overachiever. The Academy courtyard was packed—professors, students, glitch-monitoring staff, a goat wearing a tie (don't ask), and way too many System drones hovering like judgmental bees. There was even a stage. And a spotlight. Which is absolutely unfair, because I did not agree to public speaking before breakfast.
My clothes were still scorched from the Mask explosion. My eyes had that wild post-trauma glow. My hair was—look, I'll be honest, I looked like someone who crawled out of a prophecy backwards and landed face-first in divine bureaucracy.
And the System?
The System was thrilled.
SYSTEM NOTIFICATION: Echo Sovereign Detected.
Status: Technically Alive.
Confidence Level: 0.004%.
Title Pending Public Acceptance.
Pending public acceptance, my ass. I was about to acceptance-speech the crap out of this.
The Spoon nudged me forward.
"They're waiting."
"Yeah, well, they can wait a little longer," I muttered, eyeing the crowd. "I'm still deciding whether to faint or flee."
"You survived being mind-melded by a god-mask and emotionally shattered across the timeline," Spoon said. "You can handle a podium."
"Exactly. I've earned the right to curl into a ball and hiss at social interaction."
He gave me the Look. The ancient magical guardian version of, Don't be a drama prince, Kael.
So I sighed. And stepped up.
Here's how speeches usually go:
Polished. Inspirational. Heroic.
Here's how mine went:
Unscripted. Sarcastic. Slightly unhinged.
And, apparently, historic.
"Hi."
Yes, that's how I started.
"Some of you probably expected someone taller. Or nobler. Or less… on fire."
Nervous laughter. I pressed on.
"I'm Kael. Or the Glitch Vessel. Or Echo Disaster. Or—my personal favorite—'that idiot who won't die.' Depends on which dorm you're from."
The Duke's son coughed politely in the crowd. Spoon muttered something that sounded suspiciously like, 'Don't antagonize the aristocracy, Kael.' Noted. Ignored.
"I wasn't supposed to be here," I said. "Not in this world. Not in this Academy. Not in this mess."
"But I glitched into existence. I broke the Pattern. I rewrote the rules just by being."
Pause.
Not for drama.
Just so I wouldn't throw up.
"I've been called a hero. A problem. A threat. An accident. And you know what?"
Deep breath.
"I might be all of those. But I'm also me. And for once, that's enough."
Someone gasped.
Not because I said something profound—but because the System dinged mid-sentence like it was updating my achievements.
SYSTEM ALERT: Sovereign Declaration Detected.
Processing identity override…
Title Update: Echo Sovereign confirmed.
Congratulations! You have glitched into monarchy.
There was applause.
Real, actual applause.
Not pity. Not panic. Not just Belladonna slow-clapping like she wanted to hide her feelings behind sarcasm.
Everyone.
Even Professor Grimthorne. Who once tried to exile me for "chronomantic profanity."
I almost cried.
Instead, I smiled.
Wobbly. Crooked. Entirely mine.
"I'm not your Chosen One," I said.
"I'm not your villain, your prince, your savior, or your sacrifice."
"I'm the idiot who tripped into a miracle, broke it, rebuilt it with glitter and duct tape, and decided to stay."
"And if the System thinks that makes me royalty—well—then I guess we're all royally screwed."
Laughter. Real this time. Loud. Relieved. Alive.
Belladonna stepped forward, expression unreadable.
"You're glowing," she said softly.
"Radiant charisma?" I offered.
"Existential feedback loop," she corrected. "You're leaking Echo magic into the air. Again."
"Oh good. I was worried I looked too stable."
She didn't laugh. Just touched my hand—quickly, before the audience could pretend it was romantic—and said:
"You did well."
Then she walked off before I could say something flippant to hide the way my heart stuttered.
Spoon floated beside me, watching the crowd disperse.
"So. Sovereign."
"Not a real crown, right?" I asked warily.
"No. But you may get a scepter."
"Cool, I'll use it to hit my future trauma."
"And your next duel opponent," he said casually. "Echo Vessels are challenging you already."
I groaned.
"Can I rule in exile? Preferably under a blanket?"
Later that night, I stared out at the courtyard from the Academy roof, Spoon curled on my shoulder like a weirdly judgmental cat.
"I didn't ask for this," I murmured.
"No one worth having it ever does," he said.
That... actually helped.
For once, I didn't feel like running.
SYSTEM PRIVATE LOG – Echo Vessel [KAEL]
Pattern Divergence: Maximum
Reality Stability: Unstable but inspiring
Public Sentiment: 76% Favorable
Harem Likelihood: …High
Next Mission: Survive yourself.
---
Next Time on Kaelverse:
More dangerous trials. More romantic chaos.And Kael finally faces the hardest battle of all:
...Feelings.
Stay tuned. Bring snacks. Possibly a therapist.
We're just getting started.