If life had a difficulty slider, mine would be stuck on "Cosmic Joke."
And if that wasn't bad enough, the universe slapped a "MAX CHARISMA" label on me and then left me to deal with the fallout.
My name is Charisma Langston.
Yes, Charisma.
No, I didn't name myself.
Yes, I've asked my parents why.
No, they didn't give a straight answer.
I'm seventeen years old, from one of the richest families in the city, and currently a third-year student at the prestigious Luxis Academy—a school so elite they have a separate building for students who've unlocked their "heroic bloodline." I do not belong in that building.
You'd think being filthy rich would come with perks like peace, privacy, and maybe a personal dimension where no one could find me. But no. My entire existence is basically a cosmic magnet for weirdos, drama, and falling flower pots.
It all started 3000 years ago.
Earth cracked open like a half-boiled egg, and out of the yolk came magic. Portals to other worlds—"realms," as the scholars like to call them—opened randomly across the globe. Unnatural disasters followed. Volcanoes erupted where there were no mountains, oceans flooded deserts, and dragons casually flew over New York City like pigeons with wingspans the size of buildings.
Naturally, humanity did what humanity does best.
We declared war.
Apparently, the people on the other side of the portals weren't too fond of being blamed for our doomsday panic. A global war broke out between Earth and the magic-wielding realm of Eldara. It was a hot mess. Think spells versus tanks, swords clashing with fighter jets, and some guy named "King Thalorin the Flame-Eyed" yelling in ancient runes while riding a lava horse.
But eventually... peace happened. Some hero saved everyone. The portals stopped being death traps and started being... doorways. Now we coexist with them. Humans and Eldarans live together, go to school together, complain about rent together.
It's been about fifty years since that all settled. So if you were expecting this to be a story about the war, sorry. I wasn't even born. I just read about it on wiki-scroll.
What matters now is this:
Magic is everywhere.
Technology fused with spells.
Dragons deliver packages.
And even your grandma might have a wand license.
Me?
I have none of that.
No powers. No bloodline. No secret prophecy.
Just… whatever this aura is that makes people emotionally unstable around me.
"Langston! You're late!"
I looked up from my locker, headphones still in, music blasting some melancholic flute-hop remix. Standing a few feet away was my class rep, Talia Rayne—half elf, full control freak, and someone who once declared I was "a walking social hazard."
"I'm not late," I said, voice flat. "I'm standing."
"You were supposed to be in homeroom ten minutes ago!"
"I was mentally there."
"You can't mentally attend class!"
"Says who? You're not a Thought Mage."
She groaned. "Why are you like this?"
"Born this way. Blame the universe."
Despite my lack of effort, I got dragged to class. Not literally this time, though I have been physically towed by a wind mage before. I took my usual spot near the window—because that's where peace is supposed to exist in anime, right? Lies. All lies.
The window shattered twenty seconds into roll call.
A rogue fire imp flew straight through it, cackling and launching sparks like confetti.
"CHAOS IS MY DESTINY!" it screamed.
It was instantly vaporized by our Defense teacher.
I didn't flinch.
Just turned to Talia.
"That's the third imp this week," I said.
"That's because you radiate interdimensional disruption."
"I radiate chill."
"You radiate main character with plot-magnet energy, and I hate it."
The school bell rang—though it sounded more like a harp being drop-kicked down a stairwell thanks to our new Eldaran sound enchantments—and everyone filed out to head to Magic Integration Studies.
I tried to skip.
Really, I did.
Tried to slip out the back, hoodie up, steps light like a rogue in an RPG.
But of course.
I ran into a transfer student.
More specifically, I ran into her sword.
It wasn't drawn or anything. It was just sticking out of her bag like some cursed antenna of doom. It clocked me square in the ribs.
She gasped.
I wheezed.
"Oh no! I'm so sorry!" she said, panic in her voice. "You must think I'm a monster!"
"No," I rasped. "Monsters are predictable."
She blinked, then turned bright red. "W-What does that mean?! Are you flirting with me?!"
I looked directly at the reader.
I'm not flirting. I'm dying.
By lunch, a rumor had spread that I was engaged to the new transfer student, had tamed a fire imp, and once battled an interdimensional shadow beast with just a toothpick.
I did none of those things.
I had rice and chicken for lunch.
Then tripped on a levitation rune someone accidentally activated in the cafeteria.
Landed on a table full of noble bloodline kids.
One of them started crying and called me "his destined rival."
I wish I could tell you this was the worst day of my life.
But tomorrow exists.
And tomorrow is Tuesday.