Philip stared at him with one eyebrow raised, still standing with his arms crossed."So… you're the System, but you look like a perfume model. Don't tell me you glow in the dark too?"
Seravion — the "System," as Philip insisted on calling him — sighed."I can, if you wish."
Philip lifted his hands."No, for God's sake, don't start glowing, there's already too much light here. Just… explain, please. What is this place? And what exactly are you?"
Seravion gazed into the void for a moment, as if tuning into a celestial frequency."It all begins with Aureon."
"Uh… bless you?"
"Aureon," the angel repeated patiently. "The Supreme God of Worlds. Creator of matter, magic, order, and chaos."
Philip blinked."Right. And he's the one running this whole thing?"
"In a way," the System nodded. "But even a god needs… rest."
"Rest? Like… divine vacation time?" Philip asked, suspicious.
"Reading," the angel corrected, quite naturally. "Aureon discovered something called novels — stories written by mortals, full of fantastic worlds, heroes, villains, and… systems."
Philip's eyes widened."No. You're telling me the Creator of the multiverse started reading isekai?!"
"Yes," Seravion replied without blinking. "And he enjoyed them greatly."
"Of course he did." Philip dragged a hand down his face. "The Almighty created the universe, looked at everything that existed, and thought: 'You know what's missing? A protagonist with a user interface and daily quests.'"
The System ignored the sarcasm."Inspired by those stories, Aureon decided to test the concepts in real worlds. He sent fragments of his divine light — shards of consciousness — to oversee the experiments. Thus were born the Solaris, messengers of light."
Philip stared at him, torn between fascination and pure disbelief."So… you're one of those Solaris?"
"Yes. Seravion of Aureon's Third Guard. Assigned as interdimensional technical support."
"Technical support," Philip repeated, with a dry laugh. "The brightest angel in the cosmos is a celestial call center agent."
Seravion met his gaze with unshakable seriousness."The role is crucial. When a world develops instability, magical corruption, reality collisions, or an excessively incompetent protagonist, I am summoned to stabilize the system."
Philip raised a finger."Wait, wait. 'Excessively incompetent protagonist' is an actual registered error type?"
"Unfortunately, yes. We have an entire folder dedicated to it."
"Fantastic." Philip shook his head, laughing without humor. "So the Supreme God made a universe based on fanfics, outsourced maintenance to angels, and tossed me into one of them. This isn't a magical world — it's a closed beta of a celestial MMORPG."
"A curiously accurate metaphor," Seravion admitted. "And you, Mr. Hartwell, were assigned as the human observer of the process."
Philip blinked."Observer? I thought I was just the designated idiot."
"Equivalent functions, in a sense."
Philip sighed, gaze drifting."You know what's worse? Deep down, it actually makes sense."
Seravion tilted his head."What do you mean?"
"That the universe is basically a big company, God's the programmer who pushed broken code to production, and you're the intern fixing what he broke."
Seravion stared at him for a moment and — to Philip's shock — smiled. A calm, luminous, almost human smile."And yet, the system still runs."
"Barely," Philip snorted.
"As does everything that involves humanity," Seravion replied simply.
Philip crossed his arms again, trying to hide how that serene glow made him uncomfortable."Alright then, angel of tech support, I get it. Aureon's God, you're the helpdesk, and I'm the walking bug. That just leaves one little thing…" He pointed a finger. "How do I resign from all this?"
Seravion looked at him with the calm of someone who had been expecting that question."I'm afraid that's not possible, Mr. Hartwell. The contract is lifetime."
Philip blinked, surprised."Lifetime?"
"Until the end of your second cycle of existence."
Philip frowned."Second cycle…?"
Seravion smiled faintly."Ah. I suppose I forgot to mention — when you died, it wasn't the end. It was merely the restart."
Silence.
Philip blinked again."...Right. Great. So I'm basically a human backup with an infinite contract."
"Precisely."
Philip let out a long sigh, looking up at the ceiling."You know," he muttered, "I'm starting to understand why even God needs a vacation."