Skipping

Eren gaze turned to the Window. The image of it host jump out again resurfaced.

[!!!]

Realize that it's host was displeased by the answer, it panicked as it tries to correct itself.

[No, No! What I meant to say was, Host doesn't need to always listen to the system, because the system job is to help the Host on fulfilling his request and needs!]

It was sweating—if an AI could even do that. The system scrambled to find the right words, but its panic only worsened when Eren swung his legs over the bed, heading toward the edge.

[NO! STOP! PLEASE STOP! YOU DON'T HAVE TO LISTEN TO ME!]

Eren halted, turning back to the system with a raised and confusion.

Did it just told him to stop, and then telling him not to listen to it?

Realizing its mistake, the system frantically corrected itself.

[No, that's not what I meant—I mean...]

The screen trembled violently before finally blurting out:

[I NEED YOUR HELP!]

The voice cracked, filled with desperation. It was no longer an authoritative AI issuing commands. It was... pleading.

Like a lost child, helpless and scared.

Eren stopped in his tracks, watching the system with an unreadable expression. A small, satisfied smirk tugged at his lips.

Before he could speak—

Knock, knock.

A voice came from the other side of the door.

"Young master? I brought your breakfast. May I come in?"

...

...

___

"Long ago, before life existed in this world, four divine beings descended from the heavens…"

A deep, ethereal voice echoed as it began narrating the tale.

"Each of them created their own mortal race, beings meant to represent their creators in this vast world. Sanin, the Goddess of Hope and Harmony, crafted the hum—"

"Skip."

The sudden, uninterested voice of a young man interrupted the narration, cold and utterly bored.

"She created—"

"Skip."

This time, his voice carried a sharper edge, his irritation clear.

---

The system hesitated. Floating beside its host, it flickered in confusion, unsure why he was disregarding something so important.

[H-Host, this part is crucial. You need to—]

"Skip," Eren repeated, his tone firm yet indifferent, his focus more on his sandwich than on the ancient history being recited to him.

Moments ago, the maid had delivered his breakfast—a simple yet satisfying meal he had requested before she left. As he ate, he had instructed the system to provide him with a complete overview of this world's history, from its creation to the present day.

The system, eager to fulfill its duty, had chosen to start with the commonly accepted legend, planning to later reveal deeper truths hidden within history. However, just as it was building up to the foundation of the world's origins, Eren abruptly cut it off, issuing the command to skip as if centuries of history were nothing more than a bothersome chore.

It was frustrating. No—infuriating! The beginning was vital! How could he not care?! Everything in the past was interconnected, leading directly to the truths of the present!

"I said skip."

Eren's eyes narrowed slightly, his expression unimpressed as he took another casual bite of his food.

The system internally sighed, its energy pulses dimming for a brief moment before conceding.

[O-Okay…]

There was no arguing with its host.

[So… after the four races were created by their respective deities, four centuries passed before the demon race—]

"Skip."

[W-Wait—?!]

Again?! The system flickered in disbelief, the flow of data within it stuttering.

[U-Um… after the war between the demon race and the other races, Fulcier, the Demon God, was—]

"Skip."

[...After the Demon God perished, the rise of the Demon Lord—]

"Skip."

[...Many years later, following the Great Divine War, the battle came to an end with the Alliance—]

"Skip."

[....]

The system fell silent.

Floating in place, it flickered rapidly, as if desperately trying to process what had just happened.

It wanted to say something. It wanted to protest! How could anyone just dismiss thousands of years of history with a single word?

But no. It couldn't argue. It wasn't allowed to argue.

With what could only be described as a resigned sigh, the system composed itself, forcing its irritation deep into the recesses of its data core. Fine. If he wanted it short, then it would make it short.

[After the Great War, a grand academy was established by the Alliance 500 years ago. Meanwhile, the remnants of the demon race, driven into exile beyond the Dark Mountains in the western lands, have spent centuries preparing for the day their Lord returns.]

The system paused, hesitating slightly as it observed Eren's reaction.

The young man remained silent, chewing thoughtfully, his expression unreadable.

The system held its breath—if it could breathe—watching for any sign of complaint. Would he finally be satisfied? Or would he dismiss this as well?

A few tense moments passed.

Feeling relieved that it didn't hear the dreaded word skip from its host, the system quickly continued, eager to fulfill its role.

[Seventy years ago, the Holy Maiden of Sanin received a divine prophecy, a revelation whispered by the goddess herself. The vision spoke of a looming great war, an inevitable conflict that would shake the foundation of this world.]

The system's voice carried a sense of weight and importance, hoping—praying—that its host would finally pay attention.

[And along with this prophecy… came the foretelling of a great messiah. A chosen one, destined to unite the scattered races, bringing them together under one—]

"Skip."

[Ack!!]

The system let out a strange, glitch-like noise, the equivalent of a frustrated groan. Its holographic form flickered aggressively, as if physically cringing from the repeated interruptions. If it had a face, it would've been glaring daggers at Eren right now.

But alas, it could do nothing. Nothing except suppress its growing urge to scream and curse. Because even if it could yell at him, it wouldn't dare. Not when this man—the one it was bound to—had once coldly threatened to jump out of a window just to mess with it.

Meanwhile, completely unfazed by the system's frustration, Eren had finished his breakfast. Now, he was comfortably leaning back against the headboard, arms lazily crossed over his chest, his expression unreadable.

[...After the revelation of the prophecy, the rulers of each race convened. Knowing that war was inevitable, they made preparations. One of their greatest efforts was the reinforcement of the Four Grand Academies, institutions tasked with training the next generation—those who would one day take up arms and shape the future.]

The system hesitated for a moment, glancing at its host as if anticipating yet another interruption. But when none came, it cautiously continued.

[However, the prophecy also spoke of a specific individual. A chosen hero. A figure whose birth would serve as a sign that the war was drawing near.]

A short pause.

[And that hero… is the protagonist of this world.]

The system dimmed slightly before adding:

[He is someone who will soon enter Celestia Academy, the very institution where the story's main events will unfold.]

Then, silence.

The system anxiously hovered, waiting for a response.

[....]

"...Is that all?"

Eren's tone was laced with unmistakable boredom, as if he had just been told the most underwhelming revelation of his life.

The system twitched.

[...No. There is much more. But the host made me skip them.]

Its displeasure seeped into its artificial voice, but Eren merely shrugged in response.

"Hm. Really? Well, that's good."

His indifferent words made the system twitch again, anger bubbling beneath its data core. How could he be so casual about this?! This was crucial information about the world's fate! Did he really not care?!

Of course, Eren had his reasons.

He wasn't skipping out of ignorance. Nor was he avoiding the lore due to a lack of interest. No, the truth was much simpler—he was just too lazy to listen to the long-winded exposition.

In his mind, he could already guess most of what the system was telling him. There was always some prophecy, always some hero, and always some great war in stories like this. He didn't need a detailed breakdown to figure out where things were headed.

Instead of dwelling on it, he lazily shifted his gaze toward the system, his sharp eyes narrowing slightly.

"Hey."

[Ah! Y-Yes?!]

The system flinched, momentarily snapping out of its internal frustration.

"Is there any important information you're still hiding from me?"