Seducing the Guideverse With My System — Raising an Anomaly [BL]

Phoenix Flight HQ

"Well, being honest apparently sucks ass." Ambrose kissed his teeth after sitting in silence for hell knows how long. "And not in a good way either."

[I could’ve warned you about that—oh, wait. I did.]

"I’m really not in the mood for your robotic sarcasm, Aura." Ambrose got off the sofa, snapping his neck before stretching out his limbs with a relaxed sigh. "I can’t continue sulking and hoping Devon and Viktor don’t abandon me for life. They obviously need space... and I need a distraction."

He recalled something just then.

The black mask!

"Pull out the black mask from the system inventory."

A holographic blue screen flickered briefly in front of his face—flashing all kinds of codes and numbers. They glitched before disappearing completely from the screen.

The next second, a black mask appeared. It landed between Ambrose’s waiting hands; its almost metallic material was cold to his touch.

He caressed the artefact’s edges, admiring how equally simple and unsettling it felt. "I guess I can’t avoid testing this thing out anymore."

Without hesitation, he brought it to his face. The mask fit perfectly, stretching from his chin to the bridge of his nose while brushing lightly against his ears.

All that was left as spacing were holes where his eyes, mouth and nostrils were.

Ambrose waited as his arms rested beside him. Seconds turned into half a minute... which then turned into a minute. Soon, his brows furrowed.

"Don’t tell me the system gave me a fucking accessory as a reward." He scoffed. "And Aura, I seriously don’t understand how you don’t have much details on the black key first and now this. It’s suspicious and—"

He didn’t get the chance to spiral further.

Like a cruel joke from the universe, a sharp pain slammed into his temple. He doubled over, clutching his head as the piercing feeling covered the entirety of his skull.

His first instinct was to peel off the mask—but he couldn’t.

It was fucking stuck!

"Shit." He hissed, falling to his knees. "Make it stop. Make it fucking—argh!"

His back arched in an almost unnatural angle, his eyes widening as he gawked at the ceiling. The silver in his irises gave way to a pitch-black hue that swallowed his eyeballs completely.

With his vision blotted, the mask took his consciousness through a rapid sea of memories. Memories that weren’t his.

The first one showed a familiar landscape. Grey sand. Massive skeletal remains popping out of the earth. A vast glass sky stretched farther than eyes could detect.

This... this was the very first dimension the black key transported him to.

"How—" he choked on his own voice as the scenery immediately shifted into something new.

That same landscape was once a flourishing oasis. The skeletal remains—were actually titanic beasts, each emitting a power that rivalled the Echo Rift Leviathan.

In this vision, Ambrose stood at the centre of all this. Tiny. Insignificant.

Yet he had a feeling he’d barely scratched the surface. He was correct.

A blinding blue light pierced through the sky, descending to the forest as a pillar. The pillar twirled, gradually receding until all that was left was a humanoid figure standing in its place.

Ambrose’s pulse stuttered. The forest itself held its breath, every nearby creature turning its head to the new arrival.

He couldn’t make out most details about this figure from this distance. But one thing caught his attention. One bone-chilling thing that made him want to piss his pants.

The figure... was wearing the same black mask he had on right now!

Suddenly, the vision trembled, rippling and unravelling around him. The scene shifted again until all that was left was an empty stretch of blackness.

"You’ve come far." A voice, deep as it was grating, resounded in his ears. "But you’re still far from ready... other worlder."

Ambrose swung his head, desperate to find the source of the voice. The obvious suspect would be the figure in the black mask but they’d—

—His heart skipped a beat.

Several meters away at the opposite end of the darkness was the figure. Their black mask slowly melted off their face. Ambrose got a glimpse of their lips... sadly, he didn’t get to see more.

The vision shattered with a flash of white light, pulling his consciousness back to his body. He rasped, his palms slamming against the cool marble floor of his suite.

Tremors spread through every cell in his body like he was being electrocuted. He ignored the way his stomach churned, using his right hand to take off the mask.

It clattered to the floor, the sound soft—nothing at all like the chaos it had just caused.

"Fuck..." he cursed, pressing his eyes shut for a beat. "W–what the fuck was all that? Aura, you’ve got to have an explanation. Right?"

[ERROR: System functions buffering.]

[Estimatedtimeofrecovery: 2 Minutes.]

Ambrose almost couldn’t believe the words floating on the system screens. He rubbed a hand down his face, dragging himself off the floor only to collapse onto the nearest sofa.

"Terrifying won’t cut how crazy that felt." He murmured, barely able to catch his breath still. "And that... person. Or at least, they felt like a person."

He paused, his eyes sliding to the mask which still lay on the ground. A crazy thought slipped into his head.

What if the person he saw in that vision was the original owner of the black mask? Or worse... what if they were somehow linked to the damn system itself?!

"No way for me to really know." He shook his head, his focus fixed on the system screen.

It was still glitching with static lines.

If this mask was going to temporarily shut down the system anytime he wore it then he might just abandon it forever.

’But wait...’ he frowned. ’That vision was definitely something from the past. Or a different timeline. Could the mask be a guide in helping me understand something?’

The person in the vision had told him he wasn’t ready yet. Whether that was a jab at his Rank or lack of knowledge he didn’t know.

Just when Ambrose was about to lazily reach for the mask, his phone buzzed. He flipped it out in a rush, squinting when he saw the notification.

A text.

He was close to ignoring it when he saw it came from an unsaved contact. Then—he skimmed through it and saw a name that locked his throat.

"Ambrose, darling. This is Mrs Irina Morozov. I’m inviting you to my private manor. Tonight. Would be a pleasure to have you over so we can talk."

"I do hope you have time for this invite. There’ll be a messenger with more details at your door shortly."

Ambrose lowered the phone with a distant glint in his eyes.

The mother of the man he created a permanent link without his consent with... wanted to see him. So urgently and out of the blue too.

’My life has to be a cosmically terrible soap opera at this point...’

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