Chương 1: Just another day?

Prologue The alarm buzzed at 6: 45 AM, like it had every day for the past six years. Joshua Steel groaned, slapped it silent with the grace of a dying walrus, and blinked at the ceiling with the expression of a man who had once dreamed of becoming something cool—like an astronaut or a novelist—but somehow ended up in payroll services. Princess, his golden retriever, yawned at the foot of the bed and thumped her tail lazily. At least someone looked forward to mornings.

"Morning, Your Majesty," Josh muttered, stretching until his spine protested.

"How did we sleep? Dream of bones and squirrel diplomacy again?" She yawned in response, regal and unbothered. The kettle whistled as he shuffled into the kitchen, stepping over a chew toy shaped like a dragon. The tiles were cold, the light was gray, and the coffee was bitter because he always forgot to buy the good stuff. He stood there in his threadbare blue robe, sipping and staring blankly at the neighbor's half-frozen garden. Glasgow in November was a gray poem of drizzle and sighs.

He left the house at 8: 02, same as always, locking the door twice (just to be safe), Princess watching from the window with mournful eyes. His car, a red 2002 Ford Focus, wheezed as he turned the key.

"Don't worry, girl," he said, patting the dashboard.

"You've got another five years in you." The drive to the office was uneventful, save for a small victory when he merged successfully without getting honked at. It was the kind of thing he would've told his online friends about… if he thought they'd care. 9: 13 AM, desk 17B, second floor. The office was a parade of neutral tones and fluorescent lights. His cubicle had a small calendar of famous castles, a plastic cactus, and a sticky note on the monitor that read: "Smile. They pay you for this." He didn't smile.

Sally from HR passed by and waved. Josh gave her his best attempt at a charming grin, which looked more like a confused grimace. She didn't stop. He opened his work software, glanced at the inbox, and sighed. Another fifty payment requests. Some flagged as urgent. None actually were. Halfway through lunch, he told a joke about a time-traveling accountant to the group at the vending machines. No one laughed. One guy coughed politely. 5: 32 PM, he clocked out and bought groceries.

The cashier called him "sir," which made him feel both respected and strangely old. On the way out, he held the door open for a young couple. They didn't say thank you. Back home, Princess greeted him like he was a returning war hero. She barked, circled him, and brought him a sock he hadn't seen in a week.

"You're the only woman who loves me," he said with mock solemnity, scratching behind her ears. Dinner was beans on toast and a leftover sausage. He considered watching a movie, then opted for a gaming session instead—voice chatting with a few online friends from Germany and Canada. It was the only time of day he could really talk without pretending. At 11: 18 PM, Joshua crawled into bed. The room was cold, but the dog was warm. He stared at the ceiling.

"Maybe tomorrow," he whispered.

"Something different." Princess gave a sleepy huff. And with that, the world turned another page in the dull, decent, quietly lonely life of Joshua Steel. - - - - - - - - - - Josh woke up the way he always did, half-dreaming, half-falling… and almost sent the alarm clock crashing to the floor. His hand slapped at it blindly until it stopped its shrill beeping. Another morning, another perfectly average Thursday.

Princess, his golden retriever, wagged her tail at the edge of the bed, ears perked, eyes wide with expectation. She didn't need an alarm. Her internal clock ran on a strict schedule of breakfast, backyard chaos, and tail-chasing marathons.

"Alright, alright, hold your furry horses," Josh mumbled, rolling to his feet. By the time he shuffled into the kitchen, Princess had already run three laps through the hallway and was poised at the back door like an Olympian at the starting line. He let her out into the yard, and she exploded into motion… leaping, spinning, barking at imaginary squirrels. Zoomies in full swing. Josh made a sandwich without much ceremony, cheddar, pickles, two slices of semi-stale bread.

The first bite was halfway to his mouth when his phone buzzed. The caller ID read: Palmer – Boss. He sighed, thumbed the screen.

"Morning, Mr. Palmer." Palmer's voice came through like always—sharp, nasal, and joyless.

"There's been an issue at the company. A fire broke out in the archive room. We're halting operations for a few days. This does not mean paid leave. If you want that, you can burn your vacation days. Otherwise, suck it up like the rest of us." Click. Josh stared at the now-black screen for a beat.

"Rude bastard," he muttered, then took an angry bite of his sandwich.

"As if I lit the damn place on fire…" Still, part of him was a little pleased. Unexpected time off wasn't the worst thing in the world. He wasn't struggling for money, and being frugal to the point of martyrdom had its perks. The 2002 Ford rattling in his driveway still ran. His shoes had holes, but his savings account was healthy. He could afford a break. And Princess would be thrilled. Twenty minutes later, he laced up his running shoes and grabbed the leash. Princess pranced like she'd won the lottery.

The park was crisp with late-autumn chill. Leaves crunched underfoot. Princess ran wide, looping circles of golden joy while Josh kept a steady, if slightly wheezy, pace. For a brief moment, things felt simple, like his life wasn't an endless stretch of spreadsheets, instant coffee, and awkward silences.

"All right, girl. Let's head back. I'm losing feeling in my toes," he said, rubbing his hands together. They returned home in good spirits. Josh kicked off his shoes, turned the lock behind him, and… the world glitched. - - - - - - - - - - - - Gaix Tahinor was born into a lesser mage family. Both of his parents and his two older siblings possessed respectable magical talent, and from the time he could walk, he dreamed of following in their footsteps. There had never been another future in his mind.

That dream shattered on his tenth birthday. The family gathered as the crystal used to measure magical affinity was placed before him. His siblings had watched theirs glow with gentle colors years before. His parents had expected at least one element. Instead... nothing happened. The elder overseeing the ceremony frowned and repeated the test twice more before quietly announcing the result. Zero. The word struck like a bucket of ice water.

Gaix had always been a thin, bookish child who preferred dusty libraries over training yards. The thought of becoming a swordsman was laughable. Yet the alternative was even worse in his eyes. To abandon magic entirely… to become a common laborer or, heaven forbid, spend his life tilling fields made him bite his lip until he tasted blood. Eleven years had passed since that day. He had long since accepted that he would never cast magic as a wizard. Yet acceptance was not surrender.

After years of searching, he had concluded there was only one remaining path. Become a warlock. Warlocks were an odd breed. Some were brilliant scholars, others cheerful lunatics, and many deserved every terrifying story told about them. Their power did not come from years of study but from Patrons… immensely powerful beings willing to lend fragments of their strength. The nature of those Patrons varied wildly. Ancient fae offered power wrapped in impossible bargains.

Eldritch entities granted terrifying gifts while slowly reshaping the minds and bodies of those foolish enough to accept them. Even divine beings could become Patrons, though they were every bit as demanding as the rest. The problem was that Patrons were notoriously selective. Or rather... the better ones were. The eldritch horrors and many of the fae welcomed almost anyone willing to bargain, but the price was always the same.

Sooner or later, their warlocks ceased to be themselves, twisted into reflections of their Patrons' incomprehensible desires. Gaix wanted magic more than anything. He simply wasn't willing to lose himself to obtain it. So he worked. Every copper earned from unloading wagons, copying ledgers, carrying supplies, cleaning workshops, and dozens of other odd jobs disappeared into a small lockbox hidden beneath his bed.

Whenever he had enough money, he traveled to another town or city, searching every library willing to let him inside. Seven libraries later, in the forgotten corner of a monastery's library, he found a book that looked as though it should have crumbled into dust centuries ago. Its leather cover had rotted away, its pages were yellow with age, and countless holes showed where moths had feasted upon it over the decades. Yet within those fragile pages was a chapter dedicated to nearly forgotten Patron gods.

Most had vanished from history entirely. One entry, however, caught his attention. Unlike the others, this Patron demanded neither blood nor souls, nor impossible acts of devotion. The surviving text simply mentioned worldly offerings and sincere prayer. It was faded and hard to read, but it was enough to awaken hope. Carefully, Gaix copied the damaged page before returning the ancient tome to its shelf. If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road.

Please report it. Now, several weeks later, he knelt before a crude stone altar he had carved himself deep within an abandoned quarry. Chiseling it from solid rock had taken considerably longer than he cared to admit, and his hands still bore faint scars from the effort. Half a liter of Basiliscus blood in a crystal flask, five Heart Rubies which was cost ninety percent of his savings and a rare Golden Beetle Wing Gaix swallowed nervously before unfolding the copied page.

The ink had faded so badly that entire sections were little more than stains. Even the Patron's name had suffered the worst of it.

"... J... o... s...?" He squinted harder. Several letters had dissolved into meaningless smears.

"I'll... have to guess." He let out a long, anxious sigh.

"Well," he muttered to himself, "at this point, I'm mostly just winging it." - - - - - - - - - - - - In front of Joshua a shimmer of light unfolded in the air before him like a blooming scroll. No sound. No warning. Just... presence. A window appeared, as if summoned from a video game. On the left side: golden text, elegant and glowing. On the right: a flickering live image—like a recording, or worse, a call. Josh stared. [Congratulations!] [You have become the patron of a Warlock.] [You are now approved to grant your power and blessings into his world.] [#1 Warlock: Gaix Tahinor] On the screen, a shaggy, scarred young man knelt before a crude altar of stone. A skull lay upside down atop the platform, in it a vial filled with blood, glittering gems, and something that looked disturbingly like a severed insect wing. Josh could hear the young man's voice as if he were in the same room.

"Mighty Lord, hear me. Grant me thy power, and I shall offer sacrifice in thy name!" Josh blinked.

"I think this is a mistake." he blurted out without thinking. Another window popped up, clean, chirpy font. ["Apologies, Patron. As your Level is currently 1, you may only grant blessings via the Menu. Voice transmission unlocks at Level 5. Thank you for your service!"]"I need a drink," Josh muttered. Despite his better judgment, curiosity… and a twinge of adrenaline, led him to pull open the glowing "Menu." A small icon blinked: Offer Sacrifice. He rifled through his hallroom drawer.

A nearly-empty box of matchsticks, and a AAA battery. He pushed the items toward the flashing slot on the screen and with a shimmer of light, they vanished. On the other side of the connection, the warlock's eyes widened. He grinned, revealing far too many teeth. With a guttural cry, he smashed his forehead into the dirt and shouted something in a language Josh didn't recognize… but the tone was reverent. Then the screen cut out. Josh stood there, alone in his entryway, holding lint and a half-eaten sandwich.

He looked down at Princess, who had flopped onto the rug with a sigh.

"... Right. I did wish for something to change…" Princess sneezed. Josh half-suspected this was all in his head, a vivid daydream brought on by stale cheese and mild unemployment. But then he noticed it… a small, blinking icon in the corner of his vision. No matter where he looked, it hovered there, persistent and unnatural.

"What the hell…" he muttered, squinting. On instinct, he thought about opening it. It worked. [You have 1 incoming sacrifice to convert.]"A what?" he said aloud, frowning. He tapped the message, and it expanded into a glowing list: [Received: – 0. 5 liters of Basiliscus blood – 5 Heart Rubies – 1 Golden Beetle Wing] [Convert to Earthly Value? [Yes] / [No]] Josh blinked.

"Convert?" He barely finished the word when the window shimmered. The listed items burst into motes of golden light, and a moment later… Thud. Five enormous stacks of fifty-pound notes slammed onto his kitchen table with a satisfying weight. Neat, rectangular, and very, very real. The sheer sound of it startled Princess, who let out a suprised bark. Josh's eyes nearly popped out of his head.

"Bloody hell…" He lunged forward, grabbing one of the stacks with both hands. The notes were thick, crisp, and unmistakably authentic. He peeled one off, held it to the light, then opened a bundle at random. Everything checked out—holograms, watermarks, the Queen's disapproving glare. It was all real. Half a year's wages, sitting right there in cash. He grinned like a lunatic.

"Well screw being frugal!" he laughed, tossing a note in the air like a game show winner.

"Princess, today you're getting the finest dog chow fit for royalty!" Princess barked again, tail thumping excitedly on the floor. She didn't understand a word, but her human was happy, and that was all that mattered. - - - - - - - - - - - Gaix Tahinor knelt in the dimply lit quarry.

"Mighty Lord, hear me," he called, lifting his hands to the cloudy heavens.

"Grant me thy power, and I shall offer sacrifice in thy name!" The silence that followed was deafening. Was the carved name wrong? Did he fail? He stared at the altar, heart sinking. Perhaps the sacrifice had been too small. Or perhaps he was, once again, simply… not good enough. Then, just as he began to lower his arms in defeat… a golden window shimmered into view before his eyes. [Congratulations. You have successfully made a pact with your new Patron:] [Joshua Steel] [Granted Boons:] [– Fire Spearg] [– Electric Shock] Gaix blinked.

"Joshua... Steel?" his scar he got along the right side of his face in a jog gone wrong twitched. He glanced back at the book. The name inscribed within was more like Josshu Astrell. That was... not even close. Still, power surged through his veins. Real, tangible magic. It was a feeling he could never imagine. The spells filled his mind like old memories returning. Fire Spear. Electric Shock. Spells most novices wouldn't touch for years. Also, what was that wierd window?

He nerver heard nor read about this kind of a communication with a patron god. Still, he didn't question it. He didn't dare. With wide eyes and a trembling smile, he dropped to his knees and slammed his forehead into the earth.

"Thank you, great patron," he whispered, voice thick with awe.

"For your mercy. For your blessing. I am yours." - - - - - - - - - - - Joshua arrived home just after noon, the boot of his battered Ford Focus stuffed to bursting. It took him nearly ten minutes and three trips just to unload everything. Two new pairs of shoes, five shirts that actually fit, a set of plush lounge pants, and a proper winter coat—one without a hole under the shoulder like the old one that had let the November wind poke him in the ribs for the past two winters.

Princess, his ever-faithful golden retriever, was bouncing with excitement as her spoils piled up on the kitchen floor: a mountain of squeaky toys, five bags of the most absurdly expensive gourmet dog food he could find, and a fresh ribeye steak, already defrosting.

"Don't say I never spoil you," Josh said, tossing her a new stuffed rabbit. She grabbed it midair and bolted into the hallway, tail sweeping everything in its path. Feeling victorious, he flopped into his computer chair, cracked his knuckles, and opened Steam. One by one, he ticked off his wishlist. Every game he'd wanted for the last year… bought in a single glorious binge. One started downloading immediately, and he leaned back with a grin, already imagining the afternoon ahead. Then a popup appeared...

Not gold this time, but green. Josh blinked. [Your Favoured Warlock, Gaix Tahinor, has defeated:] [– 2 Black Wolves] [– 1 Phase Puma] [– 1 Human: Pell Striker] [All kills made using your Boons.] [+17 Patron Points Earned.] He raised an eyebrow.

"Hold on... So if he uses my blessings, I level up?" He rubbed his chin, suddenly curious.

"What did that box of matches and a battery do for him, anyway?" No answer came, of course. The system was tight-lipped. Josh sighed.

"Let's just hope he's not using his powers to roast villagers... and that 'defeat' doesn't necessarily mean 'kill.'" He hesitated a moment, then pressed his palms together in mock prayer.

"Bless you, Gaix Tahinor. May your enemies be ugly and your conscience cleaner than mine." With that, he closed the window and mentally filed the warlock away under NPCs I Probably Shouldn't Think Too Hard About. It helped with the moral ambiguity. That afternoon passed in warm indulgence. He played fetch in the yard with Princess. Ate an entire gourmet meal courtesy of a delivery app he normally avoided like the plague. Lost two hours to an RPG where he wasn't someone's patron.

And by midnight, full and content, he collapsed into bed face-first—already snoring before his leg stopped twitching. - - - - - - - - - - - Gaix arrived back from his first mission covered in blood—thankfully, none of it was his. The adventuring party he had joined turned out to be a disaster. A young noble, eager to play the hero, had ignored every warning, while another member had secretly been waiting for the perfect opportunity to murder him.

When neither the wolf pack nor the elite puma managed to finish the noble off, the assassin finally made his move, driving a dagger toward the boy's back. Only the party's shield bearer, who had remained close to his charge, managed to intercept the strike in time. The assassin was frighteningly powerful, which raised the obvious question of why he had waited until now. The answer quickly became clear. The battle with the monsters had left the rest of the party exhausted, their mana reserves nearly depleted.

This was the moment he had been waiting for. Gaix, however, discovered something impossible. While everyone else struggled to squeeze out the last remnants of their mana, his own reserves felt… bottomless. Every Fire Spear he cast was immediately followed by another, then another, until the air itself shimmered from the relentless heat. The assassin was fast, weaving between the blazing projectiles with practiced skill. But no one expected a novice warlock to unleash an endless barrage of deadly spells.

Sooner or later, even the quickest feet would falter. One spear caught the man square in the head. There wasn't even time for a scream. His head vanished in a burst of flame and ash, while the rest of his body crumpled to the ground like a sack of potatoes. The reward Gaix received for saving the noble was generous. He needed every coin of it. Although the magic itself never burned him, repeatedly conjuring Fire Spears had taken its toll.

The scorching air surrounding each spell had baked the moisture from his skin. By the time he returned home, the palms of his hands were painfully dry and cracked, feeling less like skin and more like the parched earth of a desert. - - - - - - - - - - - The following days passed without much fanfare. No golden popups. No strange voices.

Just the occasional soft green window blinking in the corner of his vision, reporting the defeat of some obscure beast—names like "Gore Hound" or "Glassback Boar" earning him a modest handful of Patron Points. Joshua paid them little mind. More notably, his workplace had reopened. And so, like clockwork, he returned to his cubicle on the second floor, prepared for another round of gray lights, cold coffee, and lukewarm greetings. Only… something was different. People didn't look through him anymore.

He caught his reflection in the glass of a vending machine and blinked. For a brief moment, he barely recognized himself. He looked alive. Clean-shaven. Hair slicked back with a touch of care. His new cobalt-blue suit fit like it belonged on someone who didn't hate mornings. The gray, slouched shadow of a man who once drifted through these halls seemed to have vanished overnight.

"Was it the suit?" he muttered under his breath, adjusting his collar.

"Morning, Josh." Sally from HR passed by—and smiled. Smiled. He watched her go, stunned. Scott, one of the more sociable coworkers, appeared beside him a moment later with a grin and a thump on the shoulder.

"Looking sharp, man. Had a glow-up? Or is there a secret girlfriend you're not telling us about?" Josh chuckled.

"Nah. Just decided to get out of my shell, I guess."

"Well, about damn time. You should come bowling with us Friday… whole crew's going." Josh paused, then nodded.

"Yeah. Sure, why not?" Even the office coffee tasted better that morning. Later, at home, he pulled on his favorite hoodie and joggers, cranked the thermostat a little, and sank into the couch with a sigh.

"Nice," he muttered, scratching Princess behind the ears as she flopped across his lap with a happy groan. The glow-up wasn't just on the outside. He felt it, too. Also, he had a strange warm energy in himself almost nudging him to be more active. - - - - - - - - - - - Gaix Tahinor had never known power like this. His spells weren't absurdly destructive—but they were persistent. Tireless. So long as he focused, he could summon fire and lightning without end. And that made him invaluable.

He had been invited to join an elite expedition into the contested borderlands of the Fanahx Empire. The plan was simple on paper: fifty dungeon raiders would cross the frontier, strike deep into the empire's flank and withdraw before reinforcements arrived. It was supposed to be a swift, decisive operation. As the youngest member of the expedition, Gaix endured no shortage of jokes from the veterans.

Most doubted he would survive his first real campaign, while others simply found amusement in the "scar-faced warlock kid" carrying enough supplies for an army medic. They weren't entirely wrong. Before departing, Gaix had spent a good portion of his recent reward on a pair of fire-resistant gloves and a dozen healing potions. The expedition reached the border by wagon, joining dozens of other raiders gathering beneath the cover of night.

His real reason for volunteering, however, had little to do with patriotism or adventure. Ever since forming a pact with his Patron, the strange blue window… whose name he had eventually learned was simply, the System… had become an almost constant companion. It tracked his actions, rewarded his accomplishments, and, most importantly, issued quests. Unlike ordinary guild contracts, these quests paid no gold. They rewarded Wish Points.

According to the System, Wish Points could be exchanged for blessings from his Patron whenever he lacked suitable sacrifices. They were unimaginably valuable. The moment Gaix overheard talk of the expedition, a blue window had appeared before his eyes. [Hard Difficulty Quest] [Participate in the Fanahx Border Raid.] [Reward: 500 Wish Points.] He had accepted without a second thought.