I quickly arrived back to my dorm after class.
There wasn't much time before orientation would start so I needed to check my stats,
"Status"
I blinked at the notification, watching as the faint glow of the system interface flickered in and out, like it was hesitating to fully show itself.
Then it happened.
A sharp buzz rattled at the back of my skull—faint, but unmistakable. Like a frequency just slightly out of tune.
// Eclipse Charm activation complete. //// System Level 2 Access Granted. //// Story Mod Functionality Unlocked. //
The window shifted. A new tab opened in the corner of the interface. Sleek, dark, and humming with potential.
[Story Mod]Description: Modify minor narrative elements within the boundaries of your current arc.Warning: Excessive tampering may result in narrative instability. Repercussions are unpredictable.
A pulse of cold traveled down my spine.
So it was real. All of it.
Not just the transmigration. Not just the chip. But the fact that this system wasn't just some stat tracker—it was tied directly into the fabric of the story.
And now it was offering me an edit button.
I stared at the screen, fingers twitching like they wanted to touch something that wasn't even physically there.
Change the story.
Survive.
That was the goal, right?
I wasn't a protagonist. I wasn't even an antagonist. I was an extra—someone written to fill space, to prop up the arcs of more important people. My existence was meant to be forgettable.
But now?
I had leverage.
The Phantom Charm gave me presence. But this—this Story Mod? It was my scalpel. A tool to carve a path through the narrative minefield I'd been dropped into.
I opened the tab and scrolled.
There were options. Limited, sure, but real.
[Minor Mod – Redirect Attention: Temporarily lower the likelihood of narrative convergence events.]Cost: 1 Mod Point. Side Effect: Increased background surveillance by system administrators.
[Minor Mod – Delay: Postpone major character encounter by 24 hours.]Cost: 1 Mod Point. Side Effect: Fate Compensation increases next arc difficulty.
[Minor Mod – Bias Injection: Subtly influence a supporting character's disposition.]Cost: 2 Mod Points. Side Effect: Risk of triggering narrative backlash if used repeatedly.
Tempting. So tempting.
I had no idea how often I'd get these points or if they refreshed. Right now, it said I had one. Just one. A single thread to pull in this tangled web of power dynamics, elite egos, and razor-thin politics.
But I didn't use it.
Not yet.
Instead, I closed the window and leaned back on my bed, eyes tracing the lines of the ceiling.
Orientation was in less than an hour. The rest of Class A would be there, nobles and prodigies all bristling in their tailored uniforms and million-credit chips. The room would reek of pride and paranoia.
And I'd walk in as the guy who made Hector Blackwood tap out.
It was a bold way to start a story.
Too bold, maybe.
I rolled my shoulder, the bruise still tender from the fight. Even without chips, Hector hadn't been a pushover. His fundamentals were good. Strong base. Aggressive tempo.
But he hadn't adapted.
That was the difference.
I'd spent years fighting in rings that didn't allow second chances. People always underestimated the conman until they were coughing blood and wondering where their teeth went.
Still... I could feel it.
The tension. The quiet hate.
They weren't going to forget what happened. Class A didn't take humiliation well—especially not from someone with no family name worth mentioning, no aristocratic backing, no titles.
Sure, my parents owned a chip company—but it wasn't top-tier. Slick industries made solid mid-market products, stuff for city guards and civil security. Not flashy. Not elite.
To them, I was just a mistake in the system. A fluke result that slipped through the cracks.
And they'd correct it if they could.
I stood up and walked toward the narrow mirror by the dresser.
Desmond Slick.
I still didn't know who he was meant to be in the original novel. If he had any relevance at all, it was buried so deep that even my memory of the book didn't surface it.
That made him dangerous. Or maybe it made him free.
Either way, he was mine now.
I tapped open the [Status Window] again. Just to look.
Name: Desmond SlickRank: F
Strength: F-
Dexterity: E
Intelligence: D
Charisma: SS
Endurance: F-Chip Traits: Phantom Charm, Eclipse CharmSystem Synchronization: 12%
The synchronization was increasing. Slowly. I didn't know what happened at 100%, but if unlocking Story Mod came at just 12%...
Then this was just the start.
I exhaled slowly and grabbed my uniform jacket from the chair.
The cloth was stiff, the Academy's emblem stitched in a silver thread that shimmered when it caught the light.
I'd earned it. Barely. Technically.
But it still didn't feel like it belonged to me.
Not yet.
A knock at the door jolted me from my thoughts. I glanced at the clock.
Orientation time.
I opened the door.
A student stood there. Tall. Slicked-back blond hair. Wearing the uniform like it was tailored from his own ego.
"Desmond Slick?" he asked, his voice neutral but sharp.
"That's me."
He extended a small, thin card with a holographic edge. "Your seat assignment. Orientation begins in twenty minutes. You're expected to be punctual."
I took the card. "Thanks."
He hesitated before leaving. Just long enough to look me up and down, as if trying to figure out what species I was.
Then he left without a word.
I shut the door and slipped the card into my pocket.
Alright.
Time to meet the rest of the elite world I'd just upset.
And maybe... rewrite a piece or two along the way.