Chapter 5: Dark Lord Seduction System... I waited for her to move away before glaring at the floating text. Of course, the system hadn’t responded to my whispered plea. What had I expected, some sexy AI voice to start purring in my head? This wasn’t some Japanese light novel where the loser protagonist got magical powers and a harem. This was real life, where my most exciting achievement had been getting punched by the quarterback and living to tell the tale about it. What kind of absolute moron talked to hallucinations and expected them to talk back? Oh right—me. The same guy who thought philosophical discussions about dick size were appropriate classroom conversation. But the text was still there, mocking me with its existence. [Ding! Worthy Host found. 100% integration complete. Status: Name: Peter Carter Age: 16 Overall Physical Stats: 3/10 (average human is 10) Charm: 3/10 Talents: Smart, IT Genius, Huge PP, Strategic and Calculative, Reckless] Oh, fantastic. Thanks for the brutally honest performance review, my imaginary brain‑trauma system. Really appreciated you confirming that I was a three out of ten in basically everything that mattered. Though I had to give credit where it was due—at least it acknowledged my singular genetic gift and my coding skills. "IT Genius" had a nice ring to it, even if it was coming from my own damaged psyche having a conversation with itself. The moment I finished reading this depressing assessment of my existence, new text materialized: [Host fully awakened... New Mission: Accept the Dark Lord Seduction System! Rewards: +3 stats to Physical and Charm, All Perfect Pill!] "WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK?!" The words exploded out of me before my brain could engage its filter. I bolted upright in the bed like I’d been electrocuted, my heart trying to sprint out through my throat. "Peter!" Nurse Luna’s voice cut through my existential crisis. "Keep your voice down! This is an infirmary, not a WWE match." But as I sat up, pain detonated in my skull like someone had set off a grenade inside my brain. The room started spinning like a washing machine on steroids, and I had to death‑grip the sides of the bed to keep from face‑planting onto the floor. The throbbing in my head felt like my brain was trying to stage a violent coup against my skull. Hold up. Pain. You couldn’t feel pain in dreams or hallucinations, right? That was basic fucking neuroscience. If I was feeling this migraine from hell—if I had felt Jack’s fist rearranging my facial features, if I could smell that industrial‑strength antiseptic and hear Nurse Luna’s heels clicking like a metronome— This had to be real. I looked around the infirmary with fresh eyes—well, eyes that weren’t completely fucked by head trauma. The sterile white walls were plastered with health posters about hand‑washing and the dangers of vaping that nobody read. The row of beds with their thin blue mattresses probably hadn’t been replaced since the Clinton administration. The medicine cabinet was locked behind glass like it contained the nuclear codes. The anatomical charts showed human organs in all their gross glory. Yeah, this was definitely fucking real. But wait. If this was real, then the system floating in front of my face... "Nah. Obviously not. Don’t be a complete idiot, Peter." I wasn’t special. I wasn’t the chosen one. I was just a loser with a concussion who’d read way too many fantasy novels, and now my brain was mixing fiction with reality. But that annoying voice in my head—the logical one that usually kept me from doing completely stupid shit—decided to chime in: You absolute moron, of course it’s real. How else would it be hovering in your vision like a budget hologram? But there’s one way to find out for sure, genius. The system hadn’t responded when I’d called it earlier like some kind of digital Pokémon. Maybe I needed to interact with it differently—actually engage the interface instead of just talking to thin air like a crazy person. [YES / NO?] The options appeared like glowing buttons hanging between reality and whatever the hell was happening to my life. You know what? Fuck it. If I was going crazy, I might as well go all the way. I mentally clicked YES. If my hand couldn’t touch the text, maybe my thoughts could interact with whatever interdimensional bullshit this was. It didn’t take a genius to figure out basic UI logic—and according to my new floating report card, I was technically a genius. The moment my mind made the selection; agony exploded through every cell in my body like someone had just plugged me into a live electrical grid. It felt like my bones were being twisted and reshaped under my flesh, like my skeleton was getting a complete redesign by some cosmic engineer with rage issues. My muscles spasmed and contracted in ways definitely not covered in health class, and I could feel something fundamental shifting in my DNA. It wasn’t just physical pain—it was like my soul was being reformatted, as if someone was running a full system update on my entire existence. I tried to scream, but all that came out was a pathetic gasping sound that would’ve been embarrassing if I wasn’t currently dying. My vision burst into white‑hot static, then went pitch‑black, then filled with colors I was pretty sure didn’t exist on any normal spectrum. Every atom in my body felt like it was vibrating at a frequency humans were never meant to handle. This was it. This was how I died— not in some heroic blaze of glory, not saving anyone, but because I’d mentally clicked "accept" on what was probably cosmic malware. My tombstone was gonna read: Here lies Peter Carter—died because he thought magic pop‑ups were a good idea. I couldn’t take it anymore. Darkness swallowed me whole like a hungry monster. Again. Fucking again. Maybe this was all just a pain‑induced fever dream. Maybe when I woke up, the system would be gone, and I’d be back to regular old Peter Carter—professional loser, permanent virgin, Lincoln High’s most reliable punching bag. Maybe my brain was just coping with getting my lights knocked out by Mr. Perfect. Such a tragically typical thing: getting my hopes up for something extraordinary when my life’s defining trait was being aggressively ordinary. But as consciousness slipped away like water through my fingers, some stubborn part of me hoped I was wrong. __ 𝒻𝑟ℯℯ𝑤𝑒𝑏𝑛𝘰𝓋𝑒𝓁.𝒸𝑜𝘮 A/N: Your friend is missing out is they’re not reading this!