The System Will See You Now (Please Take a Number and Your Existential Crisis)

If I had a silver for every time someone told me, "You're not in trouble, Kael, we just want to talk"—I'd be rich enough to buy a non-haunted dormitory and a personality that didn't scream "glitch magnet."

But no. Instead of a relaxing post-war snack session or a nap not interrupted by explosive scones, I found myself once again dragged before the most terrifying tribunal this side of divine reincarnation.

The System Tribunal.

And no, not like a student council with too much power and a gavel fetish. I mean The System—the magical-mechanical-mystical judgment bureaucracy that governs fate, reincarnated souls, and apparently the spoon economy.

Spoiler alert: It's just as soul-crushing as it sounds.

Scene: A Glitch in Bureaucracy

"Please state your designation," droned the glowing orb floating before me in the shape of a judge's wig crossed with a filing cabinet.

"Uh. Kael of House Echo. Reincarnated mortal. Medium sarcasm. Emotional instability: trending upwards."

BZZT.

"Sarcasm detected. Probation extended."

My inner voice: You're nailing it. Truly. A beacon of dignity.

Fluffernox sat beside me as my legally obligated Familiar Counsel, wearing a monocle and sipping from a juice box labeled "Judicial Grade Nectar."

"Don't say anything witty," he warned, adjusting his bowtie. "These entities haven't laughed since the Plague of Giggles."

The Tribunal chamber shimmered around us—an impossible space of gears, parchment winds, glitching stars, and at least three disgruntled cherubs doing clerical work.

Before me sat the System Judges:

Judge Chrona, with a clock for a face.

Judge Syntax, whose sentences glitched mid-syllab—glitched mid-sent—glitched—

And Judge Miriam, who looked disturbingly like Aureline's aunt.

"Subject 00000-GL1TCH. You stand accused of Echo Contamination, Spoon Misappropriation, Divine Interference, and Unauthorized Condiment Summoning. How do you plead?"

I raised my hand. "Hungry. I plead hungry."

BZZZZZZT.

Fluffernox facepawed. "We're going to tribunal jail. I can already smell the ethereal mildew."

Narrative Pause: How Did We Get Here Again?

Let's rewind.

After the Dorm Spoon Wars (which, thank you for asking, I still occasionally dream about in 4D flavor hallucinations), the System flagged my soul as unstable. Apparently, spoon-based diplomacy wasn't standard protocol. Nor was accidentally channeling Echo energy into a sourdough starter that gained sentience and applied for citizenship.

So naturally, they decided to audit me.

Not financially. Existentially.

Flashback Ends. Emotional Stability: Shattered.

"Exhibit A!" shouted Judge Syntax.

A projection emerged—me, flailing mid-spoon duel, screaming, "I DIDN'T CONSENT TO THIS!" while jam exploded behind me in slow motion.

"Exhibit B: Subject's internal monologue, annotated."

Suddenly, my thoughts were projected. My actual thoughts.

My inner voice (now on trial): Look, I know he's a mess. But in our defense, the bacon did hiss first.

Judge Chrona turned a crank and spoke. "Time dissonance detected in soul pattern. Emotional recursion looped. System integrity: compromised."

"He means you feel too many feelings too often," whispered Fluffernox. "Try being emotionally flat. Like a tax form."

I sat straighter. "I renounce all feelings. I am a beige cloud of calm. I don't even care about dumplings."

Everyone gasped.

Even Judge Miriam whispered, "Lies."

Trial Twist: Prophecy Inbound

Before they could sentence me to soul recalibration therapy (which I'm 83% sure involves interpretive dance and divine pamphlets), a new figure entered.

My Prophecy Twin.

You know. The Other One.

Kael 2.0.

He looked like me if I had made better choices. Sleek robes. No jam stains. Hair that obeyed gravity.

He bowed. "Apologies, honorable Tribunal. I come bearing evidence."

He handed over a glowing cube. Inside it: memories.

My memories.

Moments of chaos. Moments of choice. The bakery duel. The moment I refused divine control. The time I threw myself into a glitch to protect a friend. The time I hugged Mirielle when she cried quietly after healing too much.

"He is a glitch," said Kael 2.0. "But he is our glitch. Necessary. Chosen."

Silence fell.

Fluffernox whispered, "You got the handsome version of you to defend you. This is unfair."

Judgment (And Also Snacks)

The System Judges conferred.

Gear noises intensify.

Then, a stamp the size of a chariot slammed onto a scroll.

VERDICT: PROBATION CONTINUED. SPOON PRIVILEGES TEMPORARILY REVOKED. EMOTIONAL CHAOS MONITORED.

I blinked. "Wait. I keep existing?"

Chrona ticked once. "For now."

Syntax glitched. "Repor—repor—report for weekly cha-cha of inner self."

Miriam smiled cryptically. "Your file is entertaining."

Fluffernox leaned over. "We live. Barely. Want to get emotionally unstable pancakes?"

My inner voice: Only if they come with moral ambiguity syrup.

Later That Day: Dorm Lounge of Suspicious Peace

Seraphina: "So? Did they soul-slap you?"

Me: "They revoked my spoon."

Belladonna: "You'll steal one back by Thursday."

Mirielle: "I saved a hug if you need it."

Aureline: "There's a 46-page tribunal report I'd like to summarize into a tragic limerick."

My inner voice: These are my people. Gods help me.

I sank into the couch. Fluffernox curled up on my lap. The world didn't end. Probably.

Yet.

Next Time on Kaelverse:

Kael's on spoon probation, the Echo glitch is spreading, and someone keeps sending him enchanted fan mail shaped like ducks.

Also: The Festival of Masks begins. What could possibly go wrong?

Spoiler: Everything.