How to Train Your Glitch (Poorly)

Let's begin with a universal truth: I am not qualified to train myself. And yet, here we are—me, a newly prophesied Echo Vessel with an unstable Glitch Core, a talking Spoon of Destiny, and the magical equivalent of a stress migraine wrapped in sparkles.

I was promised "intensive, advanced glitch stabilization under the supervision of a certified Echo specialist."

What I got was an ancient shrine with no heating, a half-mummified ghost mentor named Grandmaster Yawn, and a chalkboard that kept trying to bite me.

Welcome to my life.

Day One of Glitch Training: Please Send Help

"Kael," said Grandmaster Yawn, drifting through a wall like it owed him money. "Your aura is unstable. You radiate raw chaos. That is... promising."

Promising.

Promising is what people say before disaster. Like, "This potion looks promising," or, "The chimera only bit three students today—promising!"

"I think my Glitch Core tried to unalive a shrub," I muttered, watching the poor hedge across the courtyard wither and reanimate itself as a cursed bonsai assassin.

Yawn stroked his non-existent beard.

"Good. Glitch affinity achieved. Phase One: complete."

"That was Phase One?"

"No. That was the prologue. Phase One is surviving breakfast with the Spoon."

Breakfast with the Spoon (Do Not Recommend)

The Spoon of Destiny, if you'll recall, was a sentient, morally ambiguous utensil with abandonment issues and a passion for dramatic monologues.

"Behold," it said, floating dramatically above the porridge. "Your gruel, peasant child of prophecy."

"It's oatmeal."

"It is DESTINY FLAVORED."

My inner voice: We have got to stop letting inanimate objects run my life.

The Spoon swirled. "Today's training will involve surviving five minutes of concentrated Glitch Extraction while juggling questions about your inner trauma. Ready?"

"No?"

"Too bad. Begin!"

Phase Two: Emotional Excavation, Spoon-Facilitated

Let me describe it for you.

Imagine being magically dunked in a pool of your worst memories, all narrated by a silverware utensil channeling Shakespeare.

The Spoon's voice echoed:

"Why do you fear abandonment, Kael? Why do you push away the ones who care? WHO HURT YOU?"

"Literally everyone," I gasped, twitching as flickers of my past flickered across the shrine walls. My mom abandoning me with a 'good luck' note. My father's mysterious disappearance. That one time I tried to hug a unicorn and got kicked.

Flashes. Glitches. A younger me staring into a broken mirror and hearing the System whisper: Error: Identity Undefined.

I curled into a ball.

"Too far," muttered Grandmaster Yawn.

The Spoon sobbed. "My bad."

Day Two: Spoon Sparring and Mirror Madness

"Today," Yawn droned, "we duel your own glitch. Shadowform exercise. Standard Echo training."

"Define standard."

"You punch your reflection until it stops haunting your nightmares."

Great.

I stood before the Mirror of Reflection, a cursed relic previously sealed for causing fifteen psychological breakdowns and one romantic confession to a hallucination.

My reflection stepped out. It was me—but worse.

Confident. Smirking. Wearing a trench coat of pure narrative significance.

"Well, well," Shadow Kael said. "Look who's trying to grow a spine."

"I have a spine," I said.

"Does it come with a backbone?"

Even I winced.

The Spoon, hovering nearby, whispered: "Kick his ego. Preferably the soft parts."

So I did. Sort of.

Glitch Duel: Round One

Magic flared. Sarcasm flew. It was less a duel and more a snark-off powered by existential dread and floating furniture. Every spell I cast, Shadow Me twisted.

Fireball? He dodged and yawned. Illusion burst? He turned into a more attractive version of me and blew kisses.

"You're the reason we never got a stable love life," he said.

"You're the reason I cry in bathtubs," I shot back.

Sparks. Screams. An explosion that turned half the shrine into a very confused fish pond.

In the end, I didn't win. I just glitched so hard the reflection couldn't keep up.

Shadow Kael flickered, dissolved into code, and muttered, "We'll meet again, emotionally repressed twin."

I collapsed face-first into a koi.

Day Three: Meditation Is a Scam

"Meditation will help you control your glitch impulses," said Yawn, placing a lotus blossom on my head like I was some kind of magical teacup.

I sat cross-legged.

Breathed in. Breathed out.

Immediately had a vision of the end of the world.

Screaming stars. A cracked system interface. A black hole shaped like my unresolved daddy issues.

And in the middle?

Me.

Wearing the Mask of Echo. Glitch lines running down my face. Reaching out to a crowd of people who looked exactly like everyone I've ever accidentally flirted with.

My inner voice: We are not meditating ever again.

Later That Night: Soggy Revelation

I was soaked. The Spoon was lecturing me about the ancient art of "Strategic Retreat," which apparently involved hiding in a laundry basket.

"I don't think I'm the Echo," I mumbled.

"Of course you are," the Spoon said. "You're unstable, unprepared, unqualified, and wildly overdramatic. That's textbook Echo material."

I blinked.

"That's not very comforting."

"It wasn't meant to be."

Meanwhile: Elsewhere in the Academy

Belladonna: training by hurling fireballs at romantic suitors

Seraphina: sabotaging the fencing club

Aureline: sneezing glitter and pretending it's not magic allergies

The Duke's heir: looking wistfully at the moon and muttering Kael's name like it's a prayer

Fluffernox: selling cursed glamor charms out of a trench coat

Normalcy.

Chaos.

Love triangles sharpening like knives behind velvet smiles.

And me? I was standing under the stars, holding a Spoon, and whispering, "Please don't let me accidentally destroy the universe tomorrow."

The Spoon: "No promises."

Next Time on Kaelverse

The prophecy gets worse.

Kael meets the Echo Monks (they regret it).

And a very sparkly duel breaks out in the middle of therapy group.

But don't worry, dear Reader.

It's all going exactly off-script.