If you're wondering how I got here—surrounded by robed cultists, standing in the middle of a glowing soup circle, while the System screams ERROR at increasingly higher pitches and Spoon is currently arguing with a ladle about philosophical soup rights—well. You're not alone.
I'm wondering the same thing.
In my defense, I only agreed to the trial under the very reasonable assumption that it would be metaphorical.
"Let the record show," I said, raising a finger while standing waist-deep in broth, "I did not consent to the temperature of this soup."
The System helpfully pinged a notification above my head:
WARNING: Soup of Ascension reaching boiling point.
ERROR: Defendant Kael not wearing proper ceremonial garnish.
ERROR: Garnish file corrupted. Suggest improvisation.
From the stands—yes, there were stands, like a gladiator arena but greasier—Fluffernox sat on a throne made entirely of unopened soup cans, tail flicking in judgment.
He wore a tiny monocle. And a cravat. I had questions.
Spoon floated beside me like a smug celestial bobber.
"Do not fear, Kael," he said, spinning lazily. "You have trained for this moment. Through trials of broth, battles of bouillon, flirtations in the stew of fate—"
"Can you please shut up while I die ironically?"
Belladonna, standing elegantly outside the soup circle—because of course she refused to step in—crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow.
"Are you quite finished posturing, or shall I begin your eulogy?"
"I vote soup cremation," said Mirielle brightly, holding what looked suspiciously like a divine ladle + flame cannon hybrid. She'd attached glitter runes. That… wasn't comforting.
"Let the Trial of Soupfire begin," intoned a masked monk with a ladle staff.
The arena lit up with Echo runes.
Soup boiled. Steam shimmered. And across the floating System UI, the words appeared:
SYSTEM V. KAEL: TRIAL BY SOUPFIRE
CHARGE: BEING A GLITCH, A PICKLE, AND A PROBLEM
PROSECUTOR: THE SYSTEM
DEFENSE ATTORNEY: THE SPOON
Reader. I almost drowned myself right then.
"Opening statement," boomed the System's voice, distorted, mechanical, and deeply petty. "The user known as Kael is an unauthorized entity, an Echo-anomaly, a harem-denier, and a recurrent soup-based heretic. He has destabilized the Mask Protocol, bypassed Memory Safeguards, and accrued divinity without registration."
"Objection!" Spoon raised himself like an indignant soup noodle. "Kael may be unauthorized, yes. Glitchy? Absolutely. Accidentally divine? Often. But he has committed no crimes that the System itself did not first glitch into existence!"
"That's right," I said, arms crossed over my chest, which was now starting to poach like a sentient egg. "I didn't ask to be your Echo Vessel. I didn't ask to be reincarnated. You glitched me in, gave me soup powers, and now you're blaming me for everything?"
"Incorrect," said the System. "The Spoon is to blame."
"Excuse me," said Spoon, scandalized. "I am but a humble utensil in the hands of destiny. Also, I filed the proper divinity paperwork twice."
Aureline stepped forward from the Cult corner, holding a scroll. "He's not lying. It's signed in glitter ink. With a crayon seal."
The System blinked.
"Moving to witness testimonies," it announced, clearly shaken.
Belladonna spoke first.
"Kael is an idiot. He's impulsive, sarcastic, irritating beyond measure, and has no regard for common sense or court decorum."
I blinked. "Thanks?"
"But," she said, turning to the crowd, "he saved my mask. He fought his own mind in the Echo Realm. And he made me soup when I nearly fractured."
Pause.
"...The soup was edible. That counts as a miracle."
Mirielle jumped up next.
"Kael also stopped the Memory Cult from stealing my favorite spoon. So he's definitely a good person!"
"That spoon was just a normal spoon," I muttered.
"All spoons are sacred if you believe in them," said Spoon gravely.
Seraphina appeared last, her voice soft but firm.
"I've seen Kael walk into fire to save strangers. I've seen him cry in his sleep, and then wake up and joke like it didn't matter. He's broken. But he tries. That's all anyone can do."
The soup shimmered.
Fluffernox meowed.
And suddenly, the Echo runes turned blue.
"Final deliberation," announced the System. "Shall the glitch known as Kael be reset, recycled, or recognized?"
My heart hammered. For once, I had no joke. No sarcasm. No snarky quip to hide behind.
Just me. Soup-boiled, glitching, tired me.
"I don't want to be anything," I said quietly. "Not your god. Not your Echo Sovereign. Not your mask. I just want to be me."
"Then prove it," said the System.
The broth beneath me flared golden. A final test. I felt it in my bones.
Echo pulled at my memories. My mistakes. My deaths.
But I stood.
Unmasked. Uncooked. Unapologetic.
I reached into the soup. Pulled out the ladle. And raised it like a sword.
"Bring it on."
The broth exploded.
Spoon screamed something in divine Latin.
Belladonna cursed and ran in with a spell-circle.
Fluffernox meowed again, which caused three cultists to ascend.
And when the soup cleared, I stood there, dripping but standing.
A new title floated above me:
KAEL: GLITCH-SOVEREIGN (CONDITIONALLY RECOGNIZED)
SOUP JURISDICTION: UNLIMITED
I blinked. "Wait, what does that mean—"
"Next time on Kaelverse," intoned Spoon from a throne of tomatoes, "we hold the Afterparty of Ascension. There will be deviled eggs."
Next Time on Kaelverse:Chapter 98 – "Sovereign Soup Rager: You Are Cordially Invited to the Most Emotionally Chaotic Banquet of the Century (Formal Attire Not Required, Emotional Stability Optional)"