“Can’t move...”

  Helier collapsed onto the ground, limbs limp and powerless.

  Both stamina and Soul Paint were utterly drained. According to the system, this state would persist until the end of the first round.

  As for being eliminated? Not a chance. Helier had a solid exploration score, secured one Stellar Pigment, and even took down a Star-Eater. Most importantly, he’d now completed a trial.

  In short—time to rest.

  “By the way, Mister System, you still haven’t told me what that trial was.” He had just been looking to fight a Star-Eater—how’d things escalate to this? He glanced up at the beast above him. The letters floating atop its head glowed white, unlike the red used for Star-Eaters.

  “Mhm. First, we’ll need to start with the current state of this star—no, of the entire Aurigel System.” The system paused for a beat before continuing. “Most of the stars are dead. Forces dispatched by the Black Hole devoured them.”

  Helier jolted in shock. Then what was this land beneath his feet? The sky he saw? Everything he’d collected?

  “All of it,” the system explained, sensing his doubt, “is a reconstruction of the past—replicas brought back using the last vestiges of stellar light by the Witch Association. It’s real, yes—but also dead. These things should not exist here and now. Illusion and truth are interwoven, forming an unstable existence.”

  “To become stable, they must anchor themselves to something real.”

  The system’s tone struck firm and true. Even the beast nodded solemnly in agreement.

  “So the stars... they’re searching for hosts? And that’s what the trials are about?”

  “Not bad. Quick on the uptake.” The system pasted a gold star sticker on his status screen. “This creature is the will of a fallen star, acting as its vessel. Since you’ve passed its trial, it now hopes you’ll become its host.”

  “Of course!” Helier replied without hesitation.

  “Well, you’re certainly quick to agree. Not even gonna consider the consequences?”

  “It’s all thanks to you, Mister System—my strongest support!”

  “No worries. If you die, I’m outta here first.” Not giving Helier a chance to argue, the system cut straight to business. “Focus. Stay sharp. You must not lose concentration during what’s about to come.”

  With those words, thousands of holographic screens materialized, encircling Helier and the beast. Equations and symbols flickered in a dizzying blur, and without warning, the system siphoned half of Helier’s remaining energy.

  Nearly passing out, he clenched his fists and cursed the system in his head to hold back the overwhelming dizziness.

  The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  Minutes later, the calculations were complete. The screens converged into a single display showing two objects: a pure white orb the size of a fist, and a small, glittering, crystal-clear bead tinged with soft green light.

  The system pointed a maple leaf pointer at the white orb, then Helier’s nose. “This, you.” Then at the bead and the beast. “This, it.” Most minimalist explanation ever. A new screen popped up in front of Helier.

  “Name and Oath?” Helier raised a brow at the words.

  “This star has long since been forgotten. You must rename it—serve as its anchor.”

  “Rename, huh... What about Tingmanel?”

  “...Why’d that come to mind?” The system paused.

  “Dunno. Just popped into my head. Is it terrible?” Helier stole a glance at the beast. It blinked. No nod, no shake.

  “Fine. Tingmanel it is. Now recite the oath.” The system pushed a single line of text to him.

  Helier read it over, then took a deep breath and spoke with sincerity.

  “From this day forth, I am your sun, eternal and unwavering. I shall carve Tingmanel’s name into the paths of the stars.”

  As the oath rang out, the beast cried. On the screens, the green bead began circling the white orb—contract complete. A pale green star twinkled faintly in Helier’s eyes.

  The beast gently swept Helier’s hair with its tail before vanishing, leaving behind a beautifully illustrated card depicting its form. It landed softly in his hand.

  “What’s this?”

  “A feature unlocked after completing the first round. I’ll explain later. Just keep it for now.”

  “Got it.” Helier stashed the card.

  Then—something felt off.

  “Hey, Mister System, do all players know about the trials?”

  “Of course. But they only know they exist—not where or how to access them. The Witch Association won’t offer that information. And just so you know, each star has trials. Varying numbers.”

  “And Tingmanel’s trial...”

  “Only had one. You get it now?”

  Helier gasped. No wonder the system kept warning him not to attract too much attention early on.

  “Mister System, you’re the best support I could ever ask for.”

  “Yeah yeah, said that already. Got anything new?”

  …

  Time passed in a blur—six hours vanished in a flash, mostly because Helier had taken a nap.

  The system woke him just as he was teleported back to the original plaza by the Witch Association, along with other players.

  He immediately noticed that the number of players had been reduced—only those who passed the first round were here now.

  Everyone glanced around, sizing up their remaining rivals.

  That’s when a girl with shoulder-length purple hair descended from the sky. She wore a pointed hat and all-black attire—clearly marking her identity.

  “The first round is over! Thank you all for your hard work!”

  “I’m Enna, an apprentice witch from the Association. Just call me Nana!”

  She beamed with energy, smiling brightly… but her legs were trembling like mad.

  “The second round starts in a day, so take this time to rest. The Association has opened the rest area and marketplace. Feel free to explore, restock supplies, and get ready!”

  With a clap of her hands, the area beyond the plaza exploded into action. Storefronts opened in unison, booths sprang up in ten seconds flat—a bustling street born in an instant.

  “Oh! During this period, your system’s customer service will be temporarily unavailable due to heavy data processing.”

  “So if you have any questions, I’ll be here in the plaza. Feel free to come ask!”

  She rattled off her whole speech, then summoned a table and two chairs, plopping down nervously. Her legs were shaking even harder. Please, don’t come talk to me... Curse those senior witches! Why send a social-anxious wreck like her out here?

  But fate was cruel. Within seconds, hundreds of players surged forward to line up.

  Tearfully, Enna poured tea as she braced for a long day.

  …

  Helier, far from the crowd, quietly made his way toward the rest area.

  At the moment, nothing mattered more than taking a shower. He needed to feel clean again. Immediately.

  After checking in and grabbing his room key, he headed up—only to spot a familiar figure at the entrance.

  It was that reporter.

  Helier couldn’t help but gasp.

  “Wow, you’re still here?”

  The reporter spat blood on the spot.

  What, I’m not allowed to be?!?