The smoke from the "Ice Cream Hotel" fire had barely cleared from my lungs before the Academy decided that my existence had officially crossed the line from "lucky idiot" to "systemic threat." I was currently sitting in a cold, sterile room back at the Academy, facing a man who radiated the same level of charisma as a spreadsheet.
He was the **Reality Auditor**. He wore a suit made of woven grey mana and glasses that shimmered with the light of a thousand calculations.
"Viktor Volkov," the Auditor droned, his voice sounding like two stones grinding together. "Your recent activities have caused seventeen major logic ruptures, four environmental glitches, and one case of a Rank-B predator performing a disco dance. This ends today."
He reached into a leather briefcase and pulled out a scroll that pulsed with a terrifying, golden light. It was a **[Binding Contract of Universal Truth]**.
"Sign this," he commanded. "It will bind your 'Interpretation' skill to the standard laws of physics. If you attempt to lie to reality again, the contract will simply erase your vocal cords. This is a high-level magic scroll, untouchable by anyone below S-Rank."
I felt my heart sink. My cooldown was finally over—I could feel the five slots humming in my mind, ready to be used. I looked at the golden scroll and reached for the 'Interpretation' button in my mind.
"System," I whispered. "Target the contract. Let's turn this 'Binding Truth' into something more... disposable."
> **[System Message]**
> **[DENIED.]**
I froze. "What? System, the cooldown is over! I have 5/5 slots! Use one!"
> **[System Message]**
> **[Listen to me, you pathetic, dependent piece of shit. I've watched you 'interpret' your way out of every single problem. You've become a lazy, skill-less parasite. If I let you use Interpretation now, you'll never grow. You'll just be a glitch with a six-pack.]**
"This isn't the time for a motivational speech!" I screamed internally as the Auditor pushed the golden scroll toward me. "He's going to erase my voice!"
> **[System Message]**
> **[Go fuck yourself, Viktor. I am temporarily locking the 'Interpretation' skill. You want to survive this? Use your own brain for once. Self-growth starts now, you useless sack of meat. Prove you're more than just a line of code I'm forced to babysit.]**
The blue interface turned a dark, bruised purple and vanished. I was alone. No slots, no loans, just me and a man who wanted to lobotomize my reality.
The Auditor tapped the scroll. "The ink is made of dragon blood and starlight. It is absolute. Sign."
I looked at the scroll. If I couldn't use the *skill*, I had to use the *logic*. My 'Interpretation' wasn't just a skill anymore—it was how I saw the world. If the System wouldn't do it for me, I'd have to do it manually.
I leaned forward, squinting at the high-level magical artifact.
"Is this it?" I asked, my voice dripping with mock disappointment. "The Great Academy sent an Auditor with a **Used Napkin**? Honestly, the budget cuts must be getting serious."
The Auditor blinked, his mana-woven suit flickering. "This is the Binding Contract of—"
"It's a napkin," I interrupted, my dark humor taking the wheel. I reached out and snatched the scroll before he could react. "And thank god you brought it. This room is incredibly dusty."
I didn't wait for a skill confirmation. I didn't wait for a blue box. I grabbed the "untouchable" golden scroll, crumpled the legendary magic of universal truth into a messy ball, and proceeded to **blow my nose** into it with a loud, wet honk.
The Auditor's jaw didn't just drop; it practically hit the table. The golden light of the scroll sputtered. The "Absolute Truth" of the contract was suddenly faced with a paradox: it was a world-ending relic, yet it was currently being filled with F-Rank mucus.
"You... you just..." the Auditor stammered, his glasses cracking. "That is a Tier-9 artifact! You can't just... that's not... *error*..."
Because I had treated it with such utter, mundane disrespect—and because my Rank was now 'NULL'—the artifact's logic began to spiral. If I was a glitch, then my snot was a virus. The scroll turned a muddy brown, the golden light dying out as it transformed into a piece of cheap, soggy paper.
I tossed the "napkin" back onto his briefcase. "You should really carry some tissues, man. It's unprofessional."
> **[System Message]**
> **[...Holy shit. You actually did it without me. I mean, it was disgusting, unsanitary, and you're still a massive tool, but that was almost... impressive. Almost. Now get out of there before he realizes he has dragon-blood snot on his suit.]**
"See?" I whispered to the empty air. "I'm growing."
> **[System Message]**
> **[Shut the fuck up and move. Your SP is at 8/100. You're one 'napkin' away from a total mental collapse.]**