Lucas blinked awake.
"Aw… my head is hurting."
The dull throb in his temples made him groan. He pressed his palms to his forehead.
"I really had a bad nightmare… I was reading a novel, some weirdo author sent me spam messages, and a portal appeared out of nowhere and—"
He swung his legs off the bed and stretched. The creak of the mattress echoed faintly.
"Wow… I feel… so much more energetic today. And… a bit lighter, too."
His eyes flicked around the room.
A modest inn room. The walls were rough-hewn timber, faintly stained. A small, crooked table rested in one corner with a rickety chair shoved beneath it. Faded curtains let in streams of morning light that cut across the dust motes floating in the air. The smell of damp wood and old ale clung to everything.
A moment of silence.
Wait.
"Where… am I?"
He glanced down at his hands. Smaller. Slimmer. Different.
His feet. Same story.
Hands trembling, he touched his face. Smooth. Sharp.
Something… wrong.
He bolted toward the bed. His phone—gone.
"No mirror either…"
He tore the room apart, searching every corner, under the bed, behind the table. Nothing.
Then his eyes caught a small wooden tub filled with water.
He leaned over, heart hammering, and stared at his reflection.
A boy. Sixteen, seventeen at most.
Jet-black hair streaked with silver. Crimson red eyes—like flames in a dark pit. Lips slightly parted, revealing sharp canines. His features… exquisite. Predatory. Terrifying. Beautiful.
"This face… crimson red eyes like flames from hell itself. Beautiful face, like a sleeping beauty. Teeth meant to tear through flesh. Black hair with silver streaks, like a moon slicing through the night sky…"
He swallowed hard.
"This… is definitely Lucas. And this place… the inn he used to live in before the academy."
How could this be?
"I… am inside TLFS?"
Then realization hit.
The lunatic author.
"He… must be responsible for all of this."
Anger curled in his chest. Fists clenched.
His jaw tightened, teeth grinding lightly as he paced the small room, the wooden floor creaking beneath him. Heat flushed his face. His mind raced, replaying the absurdity of it all—the portal, his body shrinking, the missing phone. Every thought sharpened the fire in his chest.
"What the hell… could this lunatic author have done… or is it something else entirely?"
He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. Frustration bubbled up, but a strange, almost thrilling thought tickled the back of his mind. Maybe… just maybe… this is going to be fun.
Yet a faint, mischievous smile tugged at his lips.
"Well… first, let's try out my magic. After all, this is a world of swords and magic."
---
He struck a ridiculous, exaggerated pose.
"Here goes nothing."
He flung one arm upward, the other swinging wide in an exaggerated arc. Fingers splayed, hair falling in his eyes dramatically. He twisted his body with flair, as if announcing to the world, "Behold! The greatest explosion ever!"
"Explosion!"
Nothing. Silence pressed against him, thick and mocking. The room remained stubbornly… normal.
Blink. Blank face.
"No… start with basics, I suppose."
He crouched slightly, legs apart, one hand stretched forward, the other bent at his side. Fingers splayed like shaping an invisible orb. Hair fell over his eyes, eyes narrowed in intense focus.
"Fire Ball!"
Yep. Nothing again.
He stomped one foot forward, knees bent, torso leaning slightly back. One arm shot skyward, fingers splayed as if pulling electricity from the clouds. The other hand pointed straight ahead, palm open, as if aiming the strike. Hair flew over his face dramatically, eyes narrowed in concentration
"Lightning Bolt!"
And… still nada. Confusion settled over him.
He flailed both arms wildly, palms open, pretending to pull water from thin air. One foot stomped for "stability," hair in his eyes.
"Water Ball!"
Not a thingh.
"Really?" He scrunched his nose, irritation creeping in.
He stomped one foot as if punching the earth with it, wildly flailed his arms, and made exaggerated punching motions toward the ceiling
"Stone Bullet!"
Still.... nothing.
A shout from outside: "Shut up your damn noise!"
"Sorry!" he called back, voice apologetic.
He spun in place wildly, arms flailing like a leaf in a storm, one hand slicing the air at random angles. His hair whipped into his face, and he stumbled a little on his feet.
"Air Cutter!"
Zero reaction. Eyes staring, mind spinning.
"…What did I even hope for?"
Then a spark of confidence. A grin.
"I knew it… this has to be something special."
He spun in a circle, flinging his arms in every direction as if wrestling invisible shadows. Knees bent, one foot slipping slightly on the floor, hair stuck to his forehead.
"Shadow!"
Not a flicker of darkness.
"One last try…" He forced a small, awkward smile.
He clasped his hands together awkwardly, swaying side to side like an overzealous performer.
"Flash!"
Right, because that worked… not
"…What?"
His chest tightened with a mix of frustration, worry, and bitter irritation, eyes darkening as a frown twisted his feature.
"I'm doomed."
Frustration exploded.
"What the fuck! Is this his skill?!"
Emotions vanished. Blank expression.
Wait.
"Wait… what if I've been doing it wrong this whole time? Magic… sure, it makes sense, this world is full of it. But in the novel, Lucas never used magic. It always said… skill. Just… what if?"
His heart raced.
"Just… what if?"
He straightened.
"Open."
"Open… system."
A soft blue holographic interface appeared, floating smoothly in front of him. Transparent panels, clean lines, subtle glowing edges. Professional. Functional. Elegant.
A satisfied, excited smile spread across his face.
"I just knew it… let's see."
---
[Oracle System]
Unique Skill – Unlucky Gift
Description — Once there was a Goddess who was granted a sacred blessing from the higher heavens. It was called a divine gift, a power meant only for gods. She was told it would make her greater than all others. But when she received it, she realized the blessing was flawed. The miracles she could perform were small, almost meaningless. Petty tricks. Worthless wonders. The other gods mocked her. Yet the gift carried a cruel condition. If she refused to use it, if she ignored it, pain would consume her divine body and tear at her existence. So she was forced to perform trivial miracles endlessly, enduring ridicule while pretending it was her will. Over time she grew bitter. She began giving the same blessing to mortals — tasks that seemed pointless, rewards that felt disappointing, and suffering when ignored. Thus her divine blessing became known as Unlucky Gift — a power that promises greatness, yet delivers hardship.
Simplified Description: Assigns tasks to the user. Upon completion, a reward will be granted each time. Failure results in a penalty.
Reward: Random skill
Penalty: Experience of random pain. Does not affect physical body.
Current Skills Acquired: Motherly Warmth, Blink
Current Task: None
---
Leon stared at the skill description, his brows knitting together.
"What the hell is this supposed to mean?" he muttered.
Lucas blinked at the system display.
"Unlucky Gift…?" He snorted, a wild grin spreading across his face. "Unlucky? Are you kidding me? This is totally insane!"
"This skill is… overpowered. I can't believe the author described it as the 'Shittest thing, even shittier than shitty shit itself.' Are you joking?!"
He laughed, bright and free, exhilarated.
"In this world… I have only two wishes."
First—wealth. Enough to live a luxurious life without lifting a finger.
Second—and most important—
"To beat that lunatic to a pulp."
A dangerous, wide smile spread across his face.
"Just you wait, you lunatic—I'll make you regret this!"
---
One month later.
Lucas swung his pickaxe against jagged stone. Clang!
The dungeon smelled of iron and wet earth. Jagged rocks jutted from walls, moss faintly glowing in eerie green. Distant echoes of other miners reverberated in the tunnels. Every swing threw dust into the air. Sweat ran down his brow, hands blistered, clothes caked in grime.
He leaned against the wall, staring down the endless corridor.
"At least… that's what I thought."
He looked at the pickaxe in his hands. Then at the dark, twisting tunnel ahead.
"So… how did I end up here?"
Sarcasm dripped from his voice. Really. How?