I was contemplating begging the young 20-something mage student dudes next door for cash or food, going to the store and trying to snatch something, or watching porn to forget hunger. However, I’d just woken up and the blankets felt comfy so I instead spent a couple hours in the bed, picking my nose, scratching my crotch, and watching some of the 24/7 stream about System Apocalypse season 54.
The most popular contestants this season were a grizzled army veteran with a harem, a korean murderhobo boy who acted with perfect cold calculating logic, an egg boy turned into a gorgeous girl who kept running into girls love situations, a regular dude with regular morals who refused to participate and instead built a coffee shop that somehow made him super OP, and a spunky girl who’d lucked into a [Returnee] class and tried to unite everyone against the evil wizard overlords.
That’s us. We’re evil wizard overlords, and I’m part of the system, contributing every day to the oppression of millions of realities in my own small way.
Perhaps that’s why the [Returnee] and the korean murderhobo were most relatable to me. They didn’t make any mistakes and kept grinding all day everyday, which is totally what I’d have done if I were in their shoes.
Tho, I did watch the smutty bits of the genderbender boy and the [Returnee] girl too. Good stuff. Khehehe!
“Ack!”
Warmth trickled from my nose. My pinkie was red with blood. I’d picked too intensely.
“Paper! Paper!” Pinching my nose, I stumbled out of the crusty month old sheets and waded through an ankle-height obstacle course of garbage and laundry.
My tissue box was empty. I cursed. There were some crumpled ones in the trash that I’d used to clean the tentaculator last night. I picked one of them and stuffed it in the bleeding hole, then returned to catching up with the latest hottest System Apocalypse show stuff.
After witnessing the Returnee girl waste her cultivation time by moping around over the death of some stupid ass side character, I dove straight into the chatrooms and typed a small novel about what a useless loser she was. Like, girl, don’t you get it that it’s all an illusion? Everything from your stupid ass fake System conquered world to this 2D mirage we live in. It’s a magic trick. Wizards control everything. Just accept it, embrace the fake, and live every day to the max!
The Watch System Loser’s Club channel regulars tossed me a storm of likes and agreements. I watched the likes number go up and gave myself a much deserved pat on the back.
My daily contribution to the evil wizard society had been contributed.
Now I could relax, laze about a bit, and maybe try not to die of hunger.
That last task was so stressful that I spent five hours lazing around first. Then, when my stomach started to cramp with hunger, I investigated the food situation.
My five square meter home’s mini kitchen storage had some spices, several year old condiments bottles from my student years when I’d still cooked something besides memes, and an empty carton of cheap off brand suscubes.
A hollow anxiety tried to squirm its way up into my mind, but I laughed it off. “It’s all an illusion babe. None of it matters. Nothing’s real.”
The pain in my stomach intensified.
“All a trick of the mind.”
Still, I needed some sustenance to trick my mind back onto my side, or I might have to find out what happened once this fake simulation ended.
“Okay, so what are my options? Let’s logic this out like Railee.” She was last season’s [Returnee] girl, who’d been super cool.
I massaged my temples to try to activate some blood flow. First facts first. Money situation? Big negative. And if I ever got any val again the debtors would be confiscating it from my account faster than faster than thought transfers could zip through realities.
What about cash? I didn’t have any, but I could potentially wait for some of the neighboring wizard dudes to get drunk and offer some succ or other services for a quick cash. Even if I’d begun to sag a bit, I still had a nice ass and the gene tailoring inherited from mom kept wrinkles at bay. It had been a bit humiliating last time though, and it had taken me two days to whip myself back into the right mentality of treating this all as fake.
There you go, dropout loser. Make sure it’s clean.
I clutched my chest to quench my suddenly thundering heartbeat. Hyperventilating, I curled up on the floor.
All an illusion.
Nothing is real.
None of this.
This isn’t real.
The pain isn’t real.
It hurt. Why was my heart hurting? I was only thirty… Gods, thirty four?
Age isn’t real. You’re still eighteen.
Deep breaths, practiced meditation, and repeating my mantras slowly allowed me to recover my composure.
Aight, so back into planning how to defeat this illusory hunger. Let’s try something different this time. Not because I was afraid of the guys next door, but ‘cos nothing mattered so might as well try to inject some variety into this simulation.
And now that I think of it, I had never yet tried dumpster diving. Why? I guess back when I wasn’t yet awakened to the truth of this world, I had some weird notions of pride about it. Yeah, let’s go. Dumpster adventure for the dumpster queen!
I laughed at my cleverness and picked up some clothes. I put on sweatpant shorts and a mostly clean t-shirt with the lilac horned face of Ion, a popular goddess vlogger in the circles of certain fine connoisseurs. For carrying my findings, I picked up my beaten old school satchel. Then I slipped on some rubber slippers and snuck out the door.
Metallic echoes of chatter and footsteps greeted me. I stood in the inner stairway of a vast square tower. Gray shades of magewrought stones and metals melted together seamlessly. Rustgrass and warplichen sprouted up high near the stairs above me, where the cleaners had missed a spot. Blue-white arclights hummed at set intervals along the wall. The railing that stopped me from plummeting into a thirty story plummet on top of a spray-paint and shape-mage vandalized statue of some old wizard had something taped to it.
A picture, with my face on it. My tits were on full display and white smears coated my flushed orgasmic face as I posed for the camera happily.
The text read, “Knock for a fuck cheaper than canned wonder!”
A rush of anxiety nearly froze me, but I reminded myself this was a simulation and pressed on downstairs with hastening steps.
At least you still look hot, I told myself, putting on a grin. Yeah, just own it. So what if they think it gets to you? I don’t actually give a crap, so the joke’s on them.
While speed walking the clanking metal-grid stairs, two mage student girls walked up against me. Both wore a trendy balance of form-fitting and wizard-frilly clothes. Not brand stuff, but still cute. One had gold beads braided into her hot red hair and a tastefully matching make up. The other went for that Abyssal Depth goth look that had been all the rage since that one colony with triangular fishes got taken over by Ungrath the God of Depths.
They met my eyes, smiling as they talked about something. My gaze dropped immediately. I stepped towards the railing to let them pass on the good side.
Gods, what the heck was I wearing? Rubber slippers? There were holes in my shorts and a weeks old hot sauce stain on my shirt.
“...skip tomorrow. Don’t know when I’d next get an HBW interview.”
“I’ll be rooting for you! And you’ll come over after, right?”
The abyss girl chuckled. “Dunno. If it goes witch up, I might not be up for much celebrating.”
“No probs. I’ll prep for both celebration and commiseration.”
The abyssal girl laughed, giving her friend a little shove.
They passed by me and continued to chat. My hearing sharpened, straining to pick up their every word.
“...bloody nose…”
Startled, I realized the tissue was still in my nose. I hurried to throw it down the chasm and fled the scene of the crime.
Seven floors down, I came to the first junction that led to the common areas, the academy, restaurants, public transits, and other spots. Blue ceramic hues had been enchanted into the walls. A living graffiti featuring two nude dudes kissing writhed next to a vending machine selling wishes in a can for 9.99. Layers upon layers of animated posters advertising a dizzying number of student events plastered every available surface.
The place was always crowded, but I was a master of blending in and pretending. See, the trick to a convincing disguise is to be not too far off the mark. Straightening my back and putting my face in the ‘hangover smile’ setting, I assumed the identity of just another young soon-to-be-mage out on an after party stroll to find some grub.
I passed through the restaurant corridor and took a turn left to an alley with enormous green metal trash compactor mimics. One in the back was currently munching up several pieces of furniture. Another was groaning and pooping out a compressed brick of pure matter.
Dumpster diving wasn’t like in the old timey movies. You don’t actually go into the dumpsters, only idiots dive headfirst into mimics. What you do is take a seat in the shaded corner and wait, which is exactly what I did.
Sitting there, squeezed between two massive dumpster mimics, I awaited. After like two minutes or something, I got so bored I had to pull up the streams and get my dopamine hit of System Apocalypse goodness.
The girls love genderbend dudette was having a cutesy romantic moment in some crazy underwater hot spring. Nice! She and the other girl were in some really tiny bikini. Very nice!
I almost didn’t notice the sound of one of the mimics letting out a squeal of agony.
“Eat it,” said a gentle androgynous voice. “Or you will learn what happens to mimics cursed with mouthlessness.”
The mimic moaned out a plea of despair.
I inched out of my hidey corner to see the garbage container’s flap open. A small forest of black clawed tendrils flailed outside of it, juggling some kind of white-black suit like it was a hot potato.
“Eat it!” A person whose features left my mind the moment I looked at them slammed the mimic’s mouth shut.
It wiggled in pain.
The feature-shrouded person paused, then cursed. “Eat the suit or your days of mimicking are done for!” They then folded inward into a single point and poofed out of existence.
Several cracks formed in the walls all around me, opening rifts straight into the murky purple-green dream colors of unexistence. Figures dashed out of them. Wizards in tactical harnesses, truesight blindfolds with three glowing dots for eyes, tacticool black wizard hats, bodysuits, concept proof vests, and kinetic absorption cloaks made of floating reactive armor plates landed all around me.
“Warp trace!” shouted one of the wizards.
Magical fields emanated out of them in spheres, scanning the area. Guns and staffs and magical foci swept the surroundings. Tiny golem drones flitted about at blurring speeds. One stopped right at my face and scanned me with a laser projecting a red glyph.
“Civvie,” said one near me, a woman, though I couldn't’ tell much else through the spec ops wizard getup. “What did you see?”
Some of the wizards began setting instruments around the spot where the mimic torturer had warped away. A tacticool wizard decked in screens and with a staff projecting holographic VR hacker’s suite started typing at mach speeds. Reality tore open in a spot.
I was gaping.
A sudden jolt pulled my attention to the wizard who’d talked to me. In a blink, my entire world narrowed to consist only of her. Everything else fell away into blackness. Her voice rumbled in my head as an absolute command. I peed myself.
“Did you see him?”
“Yes, but I didn’t see him,” I hurried to say. “I couldn’t see anything. It was hazy, like… like illusion or something? I didn’t see anything!”
The magical compulsion released.
I was left panting and shivering after having my free will momentarily eroded.
"It’s an illusion. Illusion,” I kept repeating to myself, clinging on to that one last lifeline.
“Gate’s ready. Leap in three,” grumbled a deep voice.
The squad of nine wizards began performing quick spells, layering themselves in glowing fields that I had no context for. Then, a couple seconds later, space cracked with a clap of titans and they were gone.
I laughed. Figures that the wizard government would want to interfere with Nol’s dinner plans. The existence of a powerful being such as myself could not be allowed to go unchecked.
The abused mimic was making desperate swallowing sounds while moaning. I did my best to clean the mess between my legs, and gathered myself to approach it.
“Heyey, what’re you chewing on?”
Mimics could digest absolutely everything. I’d never heard of anything giving them trouble like this.
“Look, I know you’re totally sealed up and can’t talk, but how about I help you digest whatever you’re eating and the next time someone dumps food in your face you spit it out for me? How about it? A pretty good deal.”
The mimic spat a dark lump on the ground. I approached to investigate.
It was a bodysuit of some kind. A costume? The lower half was suit-like, but bodycon and made of some kind of black material with a cosmic purple sheen. It had integrated heels in the style of demonic hooves. It rose up into a corset or a vest that ended beneath the bust. There began a perfectly white half-coat with dark inlines matching the rest of the outfit. It featured ridiculously flamboyantly cut lapels with a wide cleavage full of ruffles that pulsed with the pink-purple glow of faraway galaxies.
Besides the mimic spit, it was a pretty nice find.
“Loot obtained,” I said to myself and picked it up.
The mimic gave me a pitisome moan.
“What? You spat it out, it’s mine now.”
It tried to whine and say something, but the mute spell blocked it.
“Yeah, whatever. It’s mine. Later sucker!!! Khehehe!” I bundled the outfit under my arm and took off.
It’d probably fetch at least a hundred, maybe a couple hundred val. Enough for me to sustain existence by a few more weeks.
Back in my room, I washed off the mimic ichor. The fabric seemed everything resistant, so I wasn’t worried about ruining it.
“Maybe a thousand val?” I mused, checking out the outfit. Everything resistant material had to be costly.
“Hmm…” I pursed my lips.
It looked kinda nice. The magical effects were eye catching. Plus, the design itself had that timeless sexy bodysuit but also sexy tailored suit combination that every self respecting mage owned at least one pair of. It was the style to wear to graduation.
I stood before a dirty mirror and wondered what a Nol would’ve looked like in another life where she didn’t drop out of the academy. A tired woman with black hair, yellow eyes, and a perpetual frown that didn’t match the aggressive eyebrows stared back at me, holding the suit against her.
I tried it on.
Of course, it didn’t fit.
“Ehh… I look ridiculous.”
I touched the medallion hugging my neck to start to take it off.
Prismatic flames of pale white, yellow, and neons engulfed my vision. I screamed. Pressure hugged my body from all sides, then eased. When the flames subsided, a goddess stared back at me.
She was as tall as me with heels. That suit, now perfectly fitted, hugged a figure more toned and gorgeous than I’d ever been. A hair of cosmic purple flames rioted from her head and eyes of pure starlight stared back at me.
I was gaping.
“Gods… Gods…”
My hands too, were covered in those flames.
“O my fucking gods…”
I spun to check my ass. It was the stuff of gods now, but more importantly, that spin knocked down my last chair and shattered it into splinters. I’d taken enough lectures to know what this was. I had just stumbled into finding an artifact.
An item that could grant even the laziest loser dropout wizard in existence with miraculous powers if only they learned to master it. With effort, grit, and cultivation of the artifact’s magic, I could have a chance at building myself into something I’d always dreamt of being.
Pfft. Yeah right. I’d fail anyway. Why learn magic when I could just buy a [System], slap it into the magic, and have it do all the hard work for me?
Only problem was that [System]s cost cash.
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i didn't click on that it was you until the afterword note XD