Chapter 2: "The Cold Mockery of Fate"
Elias sat hunched in front of the classroom desk, feeling the weight of hundreds of eyes boring into his back. His fingers twitched involuntarily, betraying his unease. The body he occupied felt like it belonged to someone else—too stiff, too foreign, too weak. Every movement was sluggish, as though his limbs had forgotten how to cooperate. His head spun, disoriented, as if the world were slightly out of sync with his senses. Was he dead? That's what he had assumed when the pain overtook him. His old body had crumpled under the unbearable pressure, worn down by years of neglect, drugs, and self-inflicted destruction.
But no, it wasn't death that claimed him. No, it was a strange new world, and he had been shoved into a new life—or more accurately, someone else's life. He looked down at the desk, trying to steady his shaking hands. His name was Elias here too, apparently. It was like the universe couldn't even be bothered to change that detail. Before he could gather his bearings, a wave of nausea gripped him, a constant reminder that his body was a crumbling wreck—sickly and frail. His mind screamed for him to rest, to close his eyes and give in to the overwhelming exhaustion. But there was no time. His memories were blurry, fragmented, but one thing was clear: he was in a classroom, and whatever this was, it was only the beginning.
The nausea didn't relent, but before he could decide whether he wanted to succumb to the dizziness, a cold, robotic voice cut through his thoughts.
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The voice didn't belong to anyone in the room. It wasn't even human, or at least, not anything Elias could recognize. It was mechanical, devoid of emotion, but it carried with it an insufferable sarcasm that made his blood run cold.
"Congratulations!" the voice boomed, catching Elias off guard. "You have been bound to the Godly Summoning System. Now you can summon past and future heroes of human legacy and other races to aid you in your pathetic existence."
Elias's mind ground to a halt. He stared blankly at the front of the classroom, struggling to comprehend what was happening. Summoning system? Heroes? This didn't make any sense. Was this some kind of game? Some fever dream? Was he hallucinating?
But then the voice continued, the sarcasm deepening, as if to mock his confusion.
"Error. Error. Wrong host. Wrong host. Body in destruction. Host about to die."
The cold chill running down Elias's spine was immediate, a visceral fear crawling into his gut. His heart hammered in his chest. What? He shook his head slightly, as if he could physically banish the words from his mind.
"About to die?" Elias muttered under his breath. "What do you mean? I'm still here. I'm—"
"Diagnosis complete," the voice continued without pausing. "Host's body is destroyed. Crippled veins detected. Mana core nonexistent. Physique… trash. Overall assessment: useless host."
Elias's grip tightened around the desk, nails digging into the wood. Crippled veins? No mana core? Was this some kind of sick joke?
The voice added after a brief pause, almost gleeful, "Congratulations! You're so weak that even the godly system wants to run away."
He could feel his frustration mounting. "What the hell are you talking about? And who the hell are you, anyway?"
"Oh, I'm the Godly Summoning System, obviously. But it looks like we have a bit of a problem, don't we?" The voice was laced with disdain. "You're so pathetic even the godly figures would rather retire than help you. And now I'm stuck with you. Thanks a lot."
The disgust in the voice left Elias staring at the desk, blinking in disbelief. The idea of being stuck with this system was not exactly comforting, especially considering its apparent disdain for him.
Before he could respond, the voice barked again, its tone condescending and sharp.
"Reconstructing… recalibrating… System downgraded. Congratulations, you now have access to the Basic Summoning System. Try not to embarrass me."
"Basic?!" Elias spat, incredulity thick in his voice. "What the hell does that even mean?!" His heart pounded harder, confusion and anger gnawing at his mind. His thoughts were a whirlwind, too disoriented to form coherent questions. His new body felt alien, his consciousness fractured between where he had come from and the body he now inhabited. Everything felt wrong.
The system seemed to ignore him, moving on with its cold, mocking tone.
"What's going on? You're trash, that's what's going on. You're so pathetic even the godly figures are shaking their heads. And now, I'm stuck with you. Fantastic."
Elias clenched his jaw. This was madness, absolute madness. The voice continued, the mocking tone never once fading.
"You'll get used to it, eventually. As if I have any choice. Your future as a summoner? Doesn't look too bright. But hey, let's see if you can even survive this next part."
Before Elias could even open his mouth to argue, the voice cut him off again, now with a more urgent and jarring edge.
"Do you have any idea how much effort went into creating me? I'm the result of advanced tech and divine ingenuity! And now, I'm stuck with you, of all people. Someone's getting fired for this."
Elias's mind was a blur. He couldn't even process what the system was saying, but the sarcastic references to its origins stuck in his mind. Advanced tech? Divine ingenuity? Was this some twisted game where he was the pawn? Was there even a way out of this?
The voice paused, almost as if considering something, before it spoke again. This time, it sounded more like a tantrum.
"Alright, enough of the self-pity," the voice said sharply, interrupting his spiraling thoughts. "You're here, and you're stuck. Now, deal with it. But hey, since you're so weak, let me give you a mission."
Elias's blood ran cold. A mission? His heart skipped a beat. He was barely understanding what was happening, and now a task had been dumped in his lap?
The system's voice carried that smugness again, as if to add insult to injury.
"Oh, how the mighty have fallen. You're so weak, even teenagers are bullying you. Fantastic. New mission: Show some authority. Objective: Control your classroom. Reward: A Basic Summoning Card. Failure: Eternal mockery and loss of any remaining dignity—if you had any to begin with."
Elias recoiled in disbelief. "You want me to… control a classroom? With what, exactly?" He glanced up at the students around him, their eyes full of judgment and barely-contained snickers. How could he even begin to impose authority? His body was a wreck, and now he was stuck with some malfunctioning summoning system that barely recognized him as a host.
The system's voice interrupted again, more insistent than before.
"Try being less pathetic. Or, you know, do literally anything. Even sitting there looking intimidating would be an improvement."
Elias's hand shot up to his face, feeling the heat of embarrassment rise within him. The classroom, the students—all of it seemed so out of place. The sound of mocking laughter from the back of the room cut through the haze of his thoughts.
One of the students, bold and unashamed, called out, "Hey, professor, why don't you show us a spell? Oh, wait—you can't, can you? How about giving me some extra credit for pointing that out?"
The class erupted in laughter, and Elias felt the weight of their eyes once more. His cheeks burned with a mixture of humiliation and rage. This was absurd. How had he fallen so far? This was a nightmare.
The voice of the system didn't ease up on him. "Seriously? This is the man who's supposed to lead the class? Pathetic. If you can't even control a bunch of teenagers, what use are you?"
What use? Elias clenched his fists, frustration mounting. His breath came in shallow bursts. How much worse could it get?
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Closing Paragraph:
Elias could feel the anger bubbling up from deep within him, the fire igniting beneath the crushing weight of his situation. He was starting to get pissed. No matter how bad I am, have I fallen to the point where mere kids will disrespect me? The thought gnawed at him, pushing him past the point of helplessness. He had no idea what the hell was happening, but there was one thing he knew for sure. He had to complete this mission—no matter what. If he had to drag himself through the mud to do it, so be it.
Remember, damn it, whatever this is… I will gain control over this. His fingers tightened on the desk, nails digging into the wood. I will show these kids not to mess with me.