"Some people are chosen by fate. Others are blessed by gods.
Me? I got cursed by the universe… with a magical shitpost generator."
Alexander Evans was never late.
Not because he cared about being punctual. Not because he had anything better to do. But because he hated people—and the earlier he arrived at Café Jinx, the fewer idiots he had to share oxygen with.
Rain battered the windows like it was auditioning for a sad indie film. Gray skies loomed over the fractured skyline of Harrow City, where reality and illusion bled into each other more with every passing day. People called it the "Veil." Scientists called it an "emergent magical anomaly."
Alex called it "Tuesday."
He pushed the café door open with the enthusiasm of a man walking into his own funeral. His hoodie was two sizes too big, his jeans looked like they'd fought a lawn mower and lost, and his face—perpetually blank, eyes dull and uninterested—was framed by a mess of black curls that had clearly lost a war against gravity.
"Large black coffee," he muttered without looking up, dropping a crumpled five on the counter.
The barista, who had enough piercings to qualify as a medieval weapon, gave him a forced smile. "Rough morning?"
Alex raised an eyebrow. "I wake up every day. That's the rough part."
She blinked. Then handed him the coffee without another word.
Alex took it, walked to his usual corner, and collapsed into the chair like gravity had it out for him personally.
He hated people. He hated noise. And he especially hated the fact that 3% of the world had randomly started glowing with magic two years ago—while he remained stuck being painfully, soul-crushingly normal.
Until now.
The moment he took his first sip of coffee, the world froze.
Not in a metaphorical, time-stopping moment-of-enlightenment way. No. The air literally shattered.
Like glass.
Fragments of space-time hovered in the air. The hum of conversation died. Even the rain stopped mid-fall—raindrops suspended like beads of mercury in the cold morning light.
"...Okay. Either I'm dead, or Starbucks switched to LSD foam," Alex muttered, blinking.
Then came the voice.
[SYSTEM INITIALIZING…]
Congratulations, User: Alexander Evans.
You have Awakened. Your Magic System has been assigned.
System Class: Emotional Caster
Subclass: Sarcasm-Fueled Caster [ERROR-GRADE]
Please insult someone to activate your first spell.
Alex stared at the glowing text suspended in midair. "No. Nope. This is a prank. I'm on a YouTube hidden camera show hosted by sadistic wizards."
But the message didn't vanish.
[Awaiting verbal insult…]
He laughed. Actually laughed. A bitter, joyless thing.
"Alright then," he muttered, turning to the frozen barista. Her awkward forced smile was still mid-air. "You look like a discount cyberpunk elf trying too hard to be quirky."
[Insult registered: 42% creativity, 89% sarcasm.]
Spell Unlocked: "Static Slap – Level 1"
"Delivers an electric shock to the nearest ego."
A spark flew from his fingers—literal lightning—and struck the barista's image.
Everything shattered again.
Time rebooted.
The barista screamed as a flicker of blue static jumped across her counter. Cups clattered. People shouted.
Alex stood there, still holding his coffee.
"…Okay. What the actual hell just happened?"
Alex left the café in a daze, walking through the rain like a ghost with caffeine. The air buzzed around him. His hands felt warm, like they were holding an invisible voltage.
People passed by him on the sidewalk, unaware of the emotional storm brewing behind his indifferent eyes.
He ducked into an alley. Not for dramatic effect. He just hated crowds. That's when the System popped up again.
[System Tutorial Initiated]
Welcome, Alex. Your unique emotional signature has been linked to sarcasm, profanity, and general human disinterest. Your spells grow stronger the more emotionally charged or creatively cruel your insults become.
Current Spell Loadout:
Static Slap (Level 1)
Passive-Aggressive Flame (Locked)
Shut Up Shield (Locked)
New Quest: Insult three strangers with maximum disrespect to unlock next tier of power.
Alex stared at the screen for a long time.
Then said, "You've got to be shitting me."
He didn't go home because he wanted to.
He went home because there was nowhere else to be.
His apartment was a tenth-floor box of hopelessness. Mold in the corner. Dented walls. A mattress on the floor, a dying fan, and a fridge that whined like it hated its life too.
He sat on the mattress, still wet from the rain, staring at his cracked ceiling like it held the answers to life.
"Magic," he muttered. "Freaking magic."
He should be excited. Most people dreamed of awakening.
But Alex?
He was tired. Not just physically. Existentially. The kind of tired that sleep doesn't fix.
"Great. I get powers… but only if I keep emotionally assaulting people. Lovely system. Real healthy coping mechanism."
The System chimed.
[System agrees: You are emotionally unstable. Bonus XP awarded for self-awareness.]
Alex laughed again.
"I don't know whether to cry or throw this coffee mug at you."
[Do both. You gain XP either way.]
That night, Alex sat in darkness. No lights. Just the glow of the system interface.
He could feel it—the power humming just beneath his skin. The temptation to use it. To insult. To burn. To feel something.
But deep inside?
There was a void.
Not one made of magic. But made of years of disappointment. People leaving. Promises breaking. Days bleeding into each other with nothing to show for it.
He whispered into the darkness, "Why me?"
The System didn't respond.
Not because it glitched.
But because, maybe, for the first time…
Even it didn't know.
The next day, the city exploded.
A rift tore open in the sky above Harrow's Eastern District. Creatures from the Dream Realm—black-skinned, horned, drooling monsters—poured into the streets like a plague.
Awakened fighters engaged them. Fire spells lit the sky. Streets cracked. People screamed.
Alex watched from a rooftop.
Cold. Distant.
Until he saw her.
A girl. Maybe fifteen. Trapped under a flipped car. Crying. A Dream Beast crawling toward her.
No Awakened nearby.
No heroes in sight.
Just Alex.
He took a breath.
"Goddamn it."
He leapt from the roof.
—
He landed hard, bones rattling, knees screaming.
The creature turned, snarling.
Alex glared at it. "You look like someone shaved a gorilla, dipped it in tar, and taught it to screech."
[Insult registered.]
Spell Activated: Passive-Aggressive Flame – Level 1
"Casts a delayed, emotionally confused flame that burns guilt into enemies."
The creature screeched.
Then caught fire—purple flames licking its skin as it thrashed, howled, and finally crumbled into ash.
The girl stared up at Alex, wide-eyed.
He offered a hand. "Don't say thank you. Just don't grow up into an influencer."
She laughed through her tears.
And for the first time in years…
So did he.
Miles away, in a void made of marble and silence, Lucan Zelios watched through a glass mirror of living starlight.
He saw Alex.
Felt the flawed emotional surge in his magic.
He frowned.
"So… the Insult System has awakened," he said softly, voice like sharpened velvet.
Behind him, emotionless figures kneeled—his council of perfect Awakened.
Lucan turned, eyes glowing like dying stars.
"Prepare the next Phase. The world has begun to feel again."