I Didn't Ask to Be System-Patched Mid-Identity Crisis (But Sure, Let's Add Confetti)

There are worse things in life than waking up in a floating crystal cradle surrounded by corrupted code clouds, but I struggle to name one before breakfast.

"Hello? Reality? It's me. Kael. Local sarcasm gremlin and unregistered Echo vessel. Would like to unsubscribe. Please and thank you."

No answer. Just the soft whir of magic thrumming under my spine, the faint scent of lemon metadata, and the quiet twinkle of the cosmos trying very hard to look aesthetically neutral about the whole thing.

Inner Me: Great. Woke up in a glitch dimension. Again. That's the third time this month. Is this what becoming the central instability node of prophecy feels like?

Hovering above me: semi-transparent panels of blue light, flickering wildly between System messages and something that looked disturbingly like fanfiction written about me in Old Sylvaric. With illustrations.

"Oh gods, it's interactive."

From the mist emerged a familiar blur of chaos: Fluffernox, my familiarly unhelpful magical companion, now wearing a judge's wig and monocle.

"Ah, Defendant Kael Reinhardt! You're awake just in time for your System Tribunal!"

"Fantastic. Can I request trial by cheese instead?"

He sniffed. "Denied."

As the mist cleared, I found myself standing in what could only be described as a bureaucratic opera house designed by someone with a crush on celestial geometry and an addiction to glitter. Pillars of crystal spiraled upward into an unseen void. The courtroom floated in layers. The jury was made of minor deities. There were at least seven versions of me arguing in the corner.

Inner Me: Wait. Are those... alternate Kaels?

Yes. Yes, they were. One wore full battle armor. One had wings. One was in a bathrobe, holding a latte.

Bathrobe Kael: "Objection. I was promised retirement in a beach dimension."

Battle Kael: "Justice demands blood and memes!"

Winged Kael: "We should've picked a different love interest."

Me: "Okay, first of all, rude. Second of all, why am I being judged by off-brand versions of myself?"

The central judge—an enormous glowing orb with a monocle and a clipboard—boomed, "KAEL REINHARDT. YOU STAND ACCUSED OF GLITCH DEVIATION, ROMANTIC OVERSTIMULATION OF SYSTEM ENTITIES, AND PROPHECY POLLUTION. HOW DO YOU PLEAD?"

I blinked. "Confused."

Fluffernox helpfully tossed me a scroll. "Here's your defense script. Try not to cry until page three."

I unrolled it. The first line read: We, the emotionally incoherent, hereby object to reality.

Inner Me: Okay, fair.

The trial began.

Witnesses were summoned.

First: Seraphina, summoned via glitch-light projection. She was mid-training, sweat on her brow, eyes furious.

"Kael Reinhardt emotionally destabilized our entire cohort by being simultaneously emotionally unavailable and distressingly kind. Also, he made soup. Really good soup."

Second: Mirielle, wrapped in holy light, gaze soft but deadly.

"I offered him my soul. He offered me a sarcastic sandwich. And then he looked sad about it. I ask you: who does that?"

Third: Belladonna, who walked into the projection like she owned the trial.

"Kael is guilty of excessive metaphors, weaponized self-deprecation, and failing to understand basic romantic cues. Also, he baked me a frog cookie. I still don't know if it was a threat."

Fourth: Aureline, calmly writing everything down.

"Statistically speaking, Kael is the single most destabilizing variable introduced into the Academy's relationship matrix since the Demon Prince of Candlelight tried to marry a scone."

Fluffernox whispered, "You're doing great. Only twelve more charges to go."

Me: "TWELVE?!"

Inner Me: This is why I don't go to therapy. It turns into interdimensional comedy court.

The System itself summoned a Memory Echo of me from earlier this week.

It showed me, brooding in a hallway, mumbling:

"If anyone falls in love with me again, I will throw myself into the nearest decorative fountain."

Judge Orb: "IS THIS YOUR STATEMENT?"

Me: "It was a Tuesday."

The courtroom rippled. Confetti fell from the sky.

Winged Kael: "Objection! Confetti is manipulative!"

Bathrobe Kael: "Overruled. It's festive."

The judge orb boomed again: "FINAL QUESTION: WHO ARE YOU, KAEL REINHARDT?"

Silence. Everyone looked at me.

Even the alternate Kaels shut up.

I took a breath.

Then another.

"I'm someone who didn't ask for prophecy. Who didn't want the Echo Core. Who never signed up to become the emotional axis of four terrifyingly powerful women."

Inner Me: But you did make eye contact. Rookie mistake.

"I'm just a guy trying not to drown in fate, sarcasm, and magical bureaucracy. I'm a mess. I'm also trying. And maybe that's not much—"

I looked around. At Seraphina's storm-bright eyes. Mirielle's holy calm. Belladonna's barely-disguised tenderness. Aureline's quiet watchfulness.

"But it's me."

The courtroom paused.

Then, a long beat later—

Judge Orb: "VERDICT: TEMPORARY INDETERMINATE EXISTENTIAL SUSPENSION."

Me: "Is that a yes? Or a no?"

Judge Orb: "IT IS A MAYBE."

Then the world glitched.

Again.

And I fell.

Down.

Through layers of reality.

Back into myself.

I woke up in a storage closet filled with enchanted mops arguing in French.

Classic Tuesday.

My robes were slightly scorched. There was a post-it note on my forehead that read: Nice Try, Echo Boy. —The System.

Outside the door, I heard voices.

Belladonna: "He's fine. He's always fine."

Seraphina: "Should we break the door down? Again?"

Aureline: "I already predicted this."

Mirielle: "Let him have this moment. He just got judged by glitch angels."

I sighed.

Inner Me: Okay. Time to get up, face fate, and apologize for... everything. Again.

And maybe bring snacks.

Cursed ones.

Because if I'm going down, I'm doing it with style.

Next Time on Kaelverse: Chapter 44 — Noble Duels, Unwanted Engagements, and a Spooning Tournament With Magical Spoons.

Readers, place your bets.

Bring your popcorn.

And never trust a harp that plays guilt chords.