I OBJECT, YOUR CODED HONOR

Let me begin by saying that waking up inside a cosmic courtroom is not how I expected my day to start.

And I say waking up loosely. It's hard to call it "waking" when one moment you're sipping lukewarm anxiety tea in a velvet-pink death closet with four dangerously magical women, and the next you're abruptly standing in a marble coliseum suspended in an endless void—like someone pressed Ctrl+Alt+DivineTrial on my life and forgot to buffer.

Above me, a swirling sky of algorithmic stars flickered with binary constellations. A scale made of stardust hovered midair, eternally tipping from "You're Probably Fine" to "Oh No, What Have You Done Now."

And before me stood the System Tribunal.

Six cloaked figures in glitching robes that flickered between pixels and prophecy. No faces. Just glowing masks carved with runes that spelled various emotional states, such as: Judgment, Error: Undefined, and my personal favorite, Oh, It's Him Again.

The central figure's mask read NEUTRALITY—which was comforting until I remembered bureaucratic neutrality usually meant "we won't kill you personally, but we will absolutely file the paperwork."

"User Kael Reinhardt," echoed a voice from everywhere and nowhere, as if God Himself had been replaced by a legalese generator. "You stand accused of the following: Unauthorized Echo Resonance, Prophetic Derailment, Emotional Anomalies, and Improper Use of Existential Sarcasm."

"…I knew that last one would bite me someday," I muttered.

(Inner me: Kael, please. Don't sass the glitch-wizards. We are not legally charming right now.)

"Please state your defense," said another voice, this one carrying the distinctly passive-aggressive lilt of someone who had read every Terms of Service clause twice.

"Right, yes. My defense." I stepped forward and spread my arms with the grace of a man who knew he was already being digitally judged. "Your Honor-coded-people, if I may—"

"You may not," said the NEUTRALITY mask.

"…Okay, cool. We're doing that kind of trial. Neat."

To my left, a floating cube unfolded like a mechanical lotus and birthed what I can only describe as a semi-corporeal courtroom clerk. It had too many arms. It carried a gavel and a clipboard. It looked like it wanted to file a tax audit on my soul.

I raised a hand, hesitating. "So, uh. Is there going to be a lawyer? Or... like, am I allowed a defense creature?"

"You summoned your counsel," the voice echoed. "He has arrived."

From a flash of sparkly light emerged—

"FLUFFERNOX?" I choked, as the cosmic courtroom doors burst open and my sentient fuzzball of a companion floated in with all the gravitas of a half-inflated marshmallow.

He wore a tiny powdered wig.

It was glued to his head.

Fluffernox made a noise halfway between a purr and a Gregorian chant.

"I OBJECT!" he squeaked.

(Inner me: Oh good. We're dead.)

—

Let's rewind.

About two minutes before I was spiritually yeeted into judicial hyperspace, I had a brief, enlightening conversation with Belladonna.

"I'm just saying," she'd hissed in my ear, "if this Tribunal tries to rewrite your soul-code, I will storm the courtroom."

"With what army?"

"With me," she said simply. "I'm enough army for this."

Reader, she was probably not wrong.

Unfortunately, she hadn't arrived yet.

So it was just me. And Fluffernox. And six robed bureaucratic deities who looked like they considered mercy a system bug.

—

"We begin with the emotional impact survey," NEUTRALITY droned.

A glowing chart appeared in midair. On it were several alarming statistics:

Number of accidental romantic soul-links: 4

Instances of prophetic derailment: 7

Cursed object gifting: 19

Sarcastic coping events: Infinity

"In your own words," asked a second mask, labeled EMOTIONALLY COMPROMISED, "why have you deviated from your Echo's assigned path?"

"Oh," I said, "I don't know, maybe because THE SYSTEM IS BROKEN?"

Gasps.

Literal gasps.

A ripple went through the Tribunal. One of the glitch-masks flickered into a sad face emoji for exactly 0.4 seconds before correcting itself.

Fluffernox coughed dramatically and adjusted his wig. "Your Honorbeings, I present Exhibit A!"

He threw a small paper scroll into the air. It spun, sparkled, and exploded into a visual projection of my recent activities:

Me getting chased by possessed silverware.

Me almost marrying a demon flower in a fever dream.

Me emotionally breaking down in a bathhouse surrounded by emotionally repressed mages.

Me doing finger-guns at a sentient prophecy mirror before vomiting stars.

"I rest my defense," Fluffernox squeaked.

(Inner me: …I should've stayed in the pink closet.)

—

"You do not appear to understand the consequences," NEUTRALITY intoned. "Your Echo state is destabilizing. The timeline fractures. Four separate narrative threads now converge upon your soul."

"Yeah, well, maybe your system should've thought about that before giving a former noble disaster the powers of a divine glitch."

"Correction," said ERROR: UNDEFINED. "You are the glitch."

Pause.

"…Wait, what?"

"You are not merely experiencing the anomaly, Kael Reinhardt. You are the anomaly. Your soul was born in contradiction. Reincarnated outside of assigned time. Marked by refusal. Fed by laughter. Your path is not the error. Your existence is."

The room got really quiet.

Even Fluffernox stopped chewing on his briefcase.

"…Huh," I said softly. "So I'm not a bug. I'm a… feature."

"No," the Tribunal said in unison. "You're the patch note we never approved."

(Inner me: That… is the most on-brand revelation I've ever had.)

—

From the back of the courtroom, a soft chime echoed.

Belladonna stepped through a tear in reality like she'd just walked out of a polite apocalypse. Behind her trailed Seraphina, Mirielle, and Aureline—each radiating the exact amount of righteous chaos that said we are here to emotionally complicate everything.

"Oh good," I whispered. "Fiancée cavalry."

"Excuse you," Belladonna said. "I'm your legally unrecognized soul-bound partner in vengeance."

"I brought a sword," Seraphina said.

"I brought a blessing," Mirielle smiled.

"I brought popcorn," Aureline announced. "Also emotional stability, but that might not fit in the courtroom."

The Tribunal hesitated.

NEUTRALITY's mask flickered.

"…What is the meaning of this?"

Belladonna drew a line in the air with a dagger. "We're here for Kael's free will."

"Also," Seraphina added, "he's our glitch."

"And we kind of love him," Mirielle whispered.

Silence. A heartbeat. A tension so sharp it could cut System code.

Then, Fluffernox stood atop his briefcase and raised one paw.

"Your Tribunalnesses," he declared, "may I suggest… a recess?"

Next Time on Kaelverse:

The Tribunal gets emotional. Kael discovers the true definition of "divine glitch." Belladonna files a romantic counter-motion. Fluffernox eats a sacred document.

And you, dear reader, will finally see what happens when the System puts its chaos prince on trial—and the court starts losing.

Bring snacks.

And backup identities.

Just in case.