[8:00 A.M. – Hero Academy Courtyard]
There were announcements, and then there were declarations made via magical megaphone by a floating administrator wearing a cape made of academic citations.
This was the latter.
"STUDENTS OF HERO ACADEMY," the megaphone bellowed across campus. "Your MIDTERM EVALUATIONS begin… TODAY."
Alex, halfway through a croissant he found in his hoodie pocket (still warm, somehow), squinted up at the sky.
Voidica hovered next to him, sipping black coffee like it owed her rent. "Midterms already? They haven't even taught us anything."
Cryflame, flaring slightly, gasped. "Do you think we'll be tested on feelings?! Because I have so many right now!"
Mistopher floated over upside-down. "I dreamed we'd all fail, but then I woke up, and I think I failed that too."
Alex took another bite.
"I am not emotionally available for midterms."
***
[8:15 A.M. – Orientation Tent (a.k.a. Damage Control Zone)
Inside a glowing blue dome labeled "Orientation: Please Don't Panic", students from all classes sat in neatly arranged rows, though Class WTF's corner was actively vibrating with cursed energy.
A hologram flickered on above the stage.
The administrator from earlier—a man in a suit stitched from story prompts—appeared.
"Welcome to your Midterm Evaluation," he said, far too cheerfully. "This is your opportunity to demonstrate growth, cohesion, and whether or not you can function in a reality-warping simulation designed to stress-test narrative integrity."
Several hands went up.
He ignored them.
"You will be placed into randomized genre zones within our Multi-Trope Sim Arena™. Your objective: complete your mission, maintain team integrity, and avoid irreversible genre corruption. Any questions?"
Alex raised a hand.
"Yes?"
"What's our objective?"
The administrator smiled. "Good question. You'll find out when you get there."
Mistopher whispered, "That's not ominous at all."
***
[8:20 A.M. – Team Assignments]
Holograms lit up in front of each student, spinning like prize wheels until they snapped into position.
Team 19: Plot Armor, Cryflame, Voidica, Mistopher.
"Worst-case scenario," Voidica muttered.
"I'm honored to die with you all," Mistopher said solemnly.
Cryflame burst into tears. "We're gonna trauma-bond SO HARD."
Alex finished his croissant. "Do we have a plan?"
"We never have a plan," Voidica said.
"Cool. Just making sure nothing changed."
***
[8:30 A.M. – Penny's Unofficial Briefing]
Five minutes before launch, Penny grabbed Alex by the collar and pulled him behind a large cardboard cutout of the Hero Academy mascot, Captain Curriculum.
"Midterm missions are usually low-stakes training arcs," she said, whispering fast. "But the moment they added you, it turned into a live test of plot resistance."
"Neat," Alex said, clearly not listening.
"Alex. They want to see if they can shove you into a growth arc. I've already intercepted memos. Keywords: 'forced vulnerability', 'team trust collapse', and 'romance bait attempt.'"
Alex blinked. "...Romance what?"
"I cannot stress this enough: do not let anyone emotionally connect with you during the beach episode. It will trigger a subplot."
He saluted with a juice box. "No bonding. Got it."
Penny handed him a scroll. "This is an emergency genre exit spell. Use only if things go full mecha-opera."
He tucked it into his hoodie. "You've seen the future, haven't you?"
She nodded. "And it has musical numbers."
***
[9:00 A.M. – Launch Sequence]
Class WTF stood on the glowing teleport pads, now labeled:
DESTINATION: MULTI-TROPE SIMULATION ZONE 7BGENRE CYCLE RATE: 10 MINUTESMISSION: RETRIEVE "PLOT CRYSTAL" & ESCORT TO EXTRACTION
Cryflame bounced on his heels. "Plot Crystal?! That sounds incredibly dangerous and also collectible!"
Mistopher faded in and out of visibility. "I feel like I already failed this in another life."
Voidica drew dark energy into her palms. "Can I punch the genre directly?"
Alex tightened his hoodie strings. "Let's just hope it's not a dating sim."
A countdown began.
5…
4…
3…
2…
1…
[MIDTERM SIMULATION INITIATED]
Everything turned to light—
—and a whistle blew.
[SIM START – GENRE: SPORTS ANIME]
Alex landed on grass, surrounded by screaming fans, scoreboards, and a full soccer field.
His hoodie now had a team logo. Mistopher had a jersey. Cryflame had a headband. Voidica had warpaint.
A referee floated in midair, holding a glowing whistle and shouting, "YOU HAVE TEN MINUTES TO SCORE A GOAL AND WIN THE HEARTS OF THE CROWD!"
Alex stared across the field.
On the other team stood a six-foot flaming hedgehog, a team of shirtless gladiators, and a small child with psychic cleats.
Cryflame gasped. "Oh my gods. It's the Championship Arc."
Alex sighed.
"Let's lose quickly."
***
[SIMULATION TIMER: 00:00 – GENRE: SPORTS ANIME]
Alex was already sweating, and it wasn't from exertion.
"Why is the sun more dramatic?" he muttered, eyeing the perfectly circular sun above. "It has lens flares. The sun has lens flares."
Voidica cracked her knuckles, black mist coiling around her. "Can I just vaporize the ball and end the game?"
The referee blew his whistle. "NO POWERS. ONLY FRIENDSHIP-BASED STRATEGY."
Cryflame gasped. "Oh no. We have to believe in each other!"
Mistopher had already floated into the air and started narrating his backstory.
Alex sighed. "If we win this by montage, I'm leaving."
***
[00:05 – The Game Begins]
The opposing team moved like choreographed lightning.
Psychic Cleats Boy kicked the ball at 80mph. One of the gladiators did a somersault that should have been illegal in every dimension. The hedgehog roared fire.
Meanwhile, Cryflame passed the ball backward—into Mistopher, who was mid-monologue, and didn't see it hit his face.
Voidica tried to charge, then remembered she wasn't allowed to use reality distortion and got stuck playing midfield.
And Alex?
Alex tripped.
Not on the ball. Not on a player.On absolutely nothing.
But his fall redirected the ball into the air. A seagull grabbed it. The seagull dropped it into the goal.
The crowd screamed.
GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOAL.
The announcer's voice cracked with excitement. "UNORTHODOX TACTICS! UNEXPLAINED STRATEGY! TEAM WTF SCORES!"
Alex sat up in the grass, blinked, and muttered, "I hate everything about this."
[GENRE SHIFT IN 3… 2… 1…]
The whistle blew.
The air turned purple.
The soccer field rippled like a bad mood.
Grass became stone. Goalposts melted into banners. Cryflame's headband turned into a wizard hat mid-sob.
A new voice boomed:
"WELCOME TO… ISEKAI FANTASY ZONE!"
***
[SIMULATION TIMER: 00:10 – GENRE: ISEKAI FANTASY]
Team WTF now stood on a cobbled road. In the distance: a town, some mountains, a castle in the sky, and a goblin merchant selling anime t-shirts for some reason.
Alex looked down. His hoodie had transformed into a fur-trimmed cloak. His soda was now a tankard of sparkling cider.
A glowing fairy NPC appeared.
"Adventurers! You must retrieve the Sacred Plot Crystal from the Caverns of Chaotic Lore!"
Alex nodded. "Cool. Which direction?"
The fairy blinked. "Whichever path you believe in most."
Voidica: "Kill it."
***
[00:12 – Party Dynamics Breakdown]
As they navigated the enchanted forest:
Cryflame tried to tame a unicorn. It immediately kicked him into a bush.
Mistopher attempted to speak to the trees. The trees requested privacy.
Voidica summoned a crow made of pure sarcasm that scouted ahead.
Alex found a sandwich in his pocket.
He ate it. The forest shifted around them.
They accidentally skipped half the dungeon.
Penny's voice buzzed in his comm:
"Alex. You are breaking the genre's cause-and-effect logic. Again."
"I was hungry," he said.
"That shouldn't solve puzzles."
"Tell that to the sandwich."
[GENRE SHIFT IN 3… 2… 1…]
Everything shattered.
Swords became circuits.
Trees unfolded into metal towers. Music changed to dubstep mixed with ancient chanting.
Mistopher transformed into a hover-drone.
WELCOME TO: MECHA DRAMA SIMULATIONPilot your emotions. Or die trying.
***
[SIMULATION TIMER: 00:20 – GENRE: MECHA/DRAMA HYBRID]
The team now stood inside a crumbling war city, surrounded by towering mechs and burning friendship speeches.
An operator voice shouted:
"Each of you must pilot a mech powered by your unresolved trauma!"
Alex looked up at his mech.
It was just a big metal chair.
"...Is mine defective?"
The operator replied:
"Your trauma is unwritten. Processing error. Assigning default coping mechanism: apathy."
His chair spun once, then hovered lazily forward.
Voidica was already launching missiles made of metaphor. Mistopher's mech wept in binary. Cryflame's cockpit played his emotional mixtape on loop.
Alex hit a button that said "Do Not Press."
It disabled all enemy mechs instantly.
Penny's voice returned:
"You just ended the entire fight sequence in five seconds."
"Cool," he said, yawning. "I'm gonna take a nap."
[GENRE SHIFT IN 3… 2… 1…]
The battlefield dissolved into pink skies.
Flower petals swirled in the breeze.
A sparkling beach appeared, complete with volleyball nets and oversized sodas.
Swimsuits materialized.
Someone somewhere played a lute.
GENRE: BEACH EPISODE / SLICE-OF-LIFE / ROMANTIC TENSION HIGH RISK
Alex froze.
"Oh no."
***
[SIMULATION TIMER: 00:30 – GENRE: BEACH EPISODE]
Everyone looked fantastic.
Too fantastic.
Cryflame was posing in the surf like he was in a dating sim ad. Mistopher had shades and an existential floatie. Voidica—who never smiled—was calmly reading a book under a cursed umbrella.
Alex refused to take off his hoodie. It now had tropical flower prints.
He sat on a towel and pulled out a snack.
No one spoke.
This was the most dangerous moment yet.
The system pinged:"Warning: Romantic Arc Trigger Level: 87%."
"Do not say anything heartfelt," Alex warned.
Cryflame looked up, teary-eyed. "You're like the big brother I never—"
"NO."
Alex hurled a coconut.
It bounced, knocked over the volleyball net…
…and landed perfectly on a buried objective crystal.
Everyone stared.
The system voice chimed:
"Plot Crystal Acquired. Mission Nearing Completion."
Voidica blinked.
"...How the hell did that work?"
Alex looked dead at the camera drone.
"Skill."
***
[SIMULATION TIMER: 00:35 – GENRE: POST-APOCALYPTIC CYBER-GRIT]
Dust storms swept through twisted steel towers. Flames flickered across the ruins of vending machines. NPCs in tattered clothes limped past while violins played softly in the background.
Alex sat on an overturned fridge, eating neon-blue jerky. He hadn't asked where it came from.
"I hate this genre," he muttered. "Everything tastes like emotional damage."
Mistopher hovered nearby, his new digital cloak glitching in and out of frame. "This is where backstory reveals usually happen."
Cryflame looked like a sad anime protagonist. "Do I monologue now or wait until betrayal?"
Voidica stared into the distance, eyes glowing faintly. "Something's wrong. This part of the sim… it's too polished."
Alex squinted.
She was right.
There were no errors. No awkward transitions. The genre was holding steady.
Which meant someone was guiding it.
***
[00:36 – The Saboteurs Appear]
Two figures emerged from the digital haze.
The first was a tall woman in a red-and-gold cape, floating with arrogant grace.Her name tag blinked: CHARMSTORM – Class S, PR DivisionKnown for triggering romantic rivalries and "emotionally upgrading" plotlines.
The second floated behind her, eyes glowing silver. Muscular. Clean-cut. Boring in the dangerous way.POWERPLAY – Class A+, Tactical EnforcementSpecializes in emotional suppression and plot control.
Mistopher gasped. "They're League-sponsored students! They're not supposed to be in our sim!"
Alex raised a hand. "Hi, can I help you?"
Charmstorm smiled. It could've melted satellites.
"Plot Armor. The anomaly. The walking spoiler." She touched down, voice syrupy. "We're here to guide you toward your true arc."
"Nope," Alex said, biting into more jerky.
Powerplay crossed his arms. "The Board wants to see if your 'ability' holds up against structure. We're here to provide resistance. Controlled escalation."
Voidica conjured a dagger of shadow. "You mean sabotage."
"Assisted narrative realignment," Charmstorm corrected.
Cryflame was already crying. "They're here to push us into heartbreak and despair!"
Alex stood slowly.
And for once, he looked... irritated.
"You're not part of this story," he said.
Powerplay smirked. "We are now."
***
[00:40 – Sabotage Begins]
Charmstorm struck first—her aura bathing the scene in sunset lighting. Her voice shifted the tone to something slower, more personal.
"I wonder… what makes you smile, Alex?"
Alex blinked.
Then turned, walked away, and fell directly into a conveniently-placed hole.
"HE'S TRIGGERING A MELANCHOLY SPIRAL!" she shrieked.
Powerplay moved in. His power surged, locking the area into a duel-type format. The sky dimmed. Rules hovered in the air:
1v1: Hero's Resolve ChallengeArc Type: Awakening Fight
He pointed at Cryflame.
"You first."
Cryflame stepped forward. "I-I don't want to fight you, but if I have to—"
Powerplay raised a hand.
Cryflame's fire vanished.
Completely.
He fell to his knees, gasping. "He's... suppressing my arc!"
Voidica attacked next. Her blades of darkness sliced through air and light.
Powerplay blocked them with walls of glowing script. "Your power has no purpose. You're a sidecast. You don't matter."
She faltered.
Mistopher tried to charge.
Powerplay simply deleted the ground under him.
He crashed into the scenery below, which folded over him like a disappointed plot twist.
The simulation around them started to unravel—tightening into genre wires, pulling focus toward a single point: Alex.
***
[00:45 – They Want a Hero's Awakening]
Charmstorm approached the hole Alex fell into.
"Come on out," she said sweetly. "Don't you see? This is your moment. You've been drifting. Avoiding connection. But now your friends need you. The pressure is rising. The stakes are set. This is where you stand up—transformed."
She threw a sparkle-drenched sword into the hole.
"Take up your destined weapon. Declare your resolve. Let the music swell. Become the hero."
Silence.
Then Alex's voice floated back up.
"No thanks."
She blinked. "Excuse me?"
"I said no thanks. I'm not taking the sword. I'm not monologuing. And I'm not awakening."
He climbed out—dragging a completely different weapon: a shopping cart.
"I found this instead. It squeaks."
Charmstorm actually short-circuited.
"You're rejecting your arc?!"
"I never signed the plot agreement," he replied.
Then, still holding the shopping cart, he turned to Powerplay.
And tripped.
***
[00:46 – The Collapse Begins]
The shopping cart flew forward.
It collided with a simulation control node disguised as a mailbox.
The node shattered.
Powerplay's suppression field blinked.
Cryflame re-ignited.Voidica launched her rage into a sky-destroying bolt.Mistopher rose, quoting poetry and exploding something important.
The rules in the air burned away.
[Awakening Arc: Canceled][Narrative Integrity: Low][Tone: Unstable]
Alex stood in the middle of it all, slightly dusty, drinking from a bottle labeled "Plotade: Hydration for Protagonists."
Charmstorm screamed.
Powerplay raised his hands.
And the genre began to collapse.
***
[00:47 – PLOT FIELD DESTABILIZATION: CRITICAL]
The world was breaking.
Literally.
Genre filters peeled like paint off a wall. The sky flickered between pink cherry blossoms, space battles, storm clouds, and a black-and-white noir overlay that smelled vaguely like trench coat sweat.
"THIS IS NOT IN THE CURRICULUM," cried a nearby NPC who rapidly shifted from wizard to cheerleader to detective in a span of three seconds.
Alex stood in the epicenter of it all, eating a cookie someone dropped during the mecha phase.
He chewed slowly as genre debris fell around him like sparkly ash.
"...So this is probably my fault."
***
[00:48 – NARRATIVE DENSITY SPIKE: PLOTSYNC INITIATED]
Warning text began flashing midair.
[PLOTSYNC EVENT – TYPE: UNSTABLE]Narrative Gravity Exceeding Safe LimitsAll arcs converging on Anchor Point: PLOT ARMOR
"Define 'anchor point,'" Alex asked.
Reality answered by spawning a dozen plotlines at once.
***
[00:49 – FUSION: EVERYTHING. ALL AT ONCE.]
A DRAGON descended from the heavens—made of sorrow and also somehow fried rice.
A GIANT MECHA burst from the ground, yelling about justice and debt.
A LOVE INTEREST appeared in slow motion, surrounded by sparkles, music swelling.
"Alex," she whispered, "I've loved you since we were assigned seats together three scenes ago—"
A volleyball slammed into her face.
From the beach zone.
The camera spun.
Flashback filters activated.
Everyone paused as images of Alex's past flashed around them:
Him napping during orientation.
Him eating ramen in a collapsing building.
Him high-fiving a squirrel.
Steelheart the sentient sword suddenly appeared, floating nearby, dramatically whispering:
"Your story is converging. Accept the arc. Take the blade."
Alex stared.
Then picked up a baguette instead.
Steelheart screamed in sword agony.
***
[00:50 – SIMULATION: FULL GENRE COLLAPSE]
Cryflame was mid-musical number.
Voidica was dual-wielding swords and making enemies cry with flashbacks they didn't remember.
Mistopher narrated his existential spiral in Shakespearean verse.
The dragon mecha combo screamed, "YOU CANNOT ESCAPE YOUR ROLE!"
Alex, still holding the baguette, pointed it like a wand.
"Plot twist."
He stepped forward.
Tripped.
Fell directly into the fusion core powering the sim.
There was silence.
Then a loud "DING!"
***
[00:51 – SIMULATION RESET DETECTED]
All around them, reality folded inward like a chapter break.Light swirled. Dialogue faded. Music stopped.
One by one, the fused elements vanished—dragon, mech, sparkles, unresolved romance—all sucked into a single glowing point hovering above Alex's head.
PLOTSYNC ABSORBED.NARRATIVE THREAT CONTAINED.SIMULATION: STABILIZING.
[00:52 – Aftermath]
Alex lay on the ground, slightly smoking.
"Did I win?"
Cryflame flopped beside him. "We saved the world!"
Mistopher floated down. "The simulation tried to give you every arc at once."
Voidica stood over them all, arms crossed. "And you beat it with a baguette."
Alex held it up weakly. "It was structurally sound."
The sim administrator's voice crackled through speakers across the field:
"TEAM 19… MISSION SUCCESSFUL.EVALUATION: PASSED (AGAINST ALL REASON).PLEASE AWAIT EXTRACTION."
***
[00:55 – Exit Portal: Broken and Glitching]
As the team gathered near the glowing exit gate, a final flicker of static rippled through the air.
A single line of red code hovered in front of Alex:
"Congratulations. You have denied the arc. But the arc denies nothing."– R
Penny's voice came through the comms:"Alex… that wasn't simulation code."
He exhaled slowly. "Great. Now the cutscene's talking back."
***
[1:00 P.M. – Hero Academy: Evaluation Hall]
The hall smelled like paperwork, regret, and coffee with trust issues.
Class WTF stood in the center of a glowing podium while a projection screen hovered above them, ticking through scores like it was calculating taxes on destiny.
Alex leaned against the wall, hood up, eyes closed.
Cryflame was vibrating. "Do you think we passed? I think we passed! I feel like we passed so hard they'll make us teachers!"
Mistopher phased in and out of existence like he couldn't commit to being optimistic.
Voidica just stared at the projection, arms folded. "If we failed, I'm setting the grading rubric on fire."
The screen chimed:
TEAM 19: FINAL SCORE – 1,000,000 POINTS[Evaluation: "Narratively Inexplicable but Functionally Successful"][Team Cohesion: "Extremely Stable in Spite of Itself"][Arc Resistance: "Off the Charts"][Genre Interference: "Catastrophic. We're So Sorry."]
Rank: A+ (Provisional)Special Note: Please stop doing things.
Alex blinked. "Cool. Do we get pizza or something?"
***
[1:15 P.M. – Hero Society Boardroom: Meltdown, Round 2]
"HE BEAT THE SIMULATION WITH A BREAD PRODUCT."
Lady Vector's fist slammed into the table.
Across from her, the Hero Ranking Board tried to explain that no, this wasn't technically cheating, and yes, the simulation core had since been retired for therapy.
"He doesn't train. He doesn't strategize. He trips, and the universe rewrites itself to suit him."
"Public opinion loves him," a PR rep mumbled. "And his merch is selling out."
Lady Vector stared into the middle distance.
Then whispered, "Bring in the Rewrite Candidates."
***
[1:20 P.M. – Class WTF Lounge: Post-Mission Recovery]
Back in their weird little corner of campus, Class WTF celebrated with discount cupcakes and mysterious soda that kept changing flavor mid-sip.
Cryflame had already designed team badges. "We're gonna be legends!"
Voidica refused to admit she was proud of anyone, but she didn't leave, which meant everything.
Mistopher wrote a poem titled 'Sneeze Against Fate'.
Alex lay on the couch with a cold pack on his forehead and the weight of expectation sitting on his chest like a smug cat.
Penny sat next to him, scrolling on her tablet.
"They're calling you a symbol now," she said. "Some think you're a miracle. Some think you're a threat."
"I'm neither," he muttered. "I'm just tired."
"Yeah," she said softly. "But you're tired in public now."
***
[1:30 P.M. – Redline's Office: Somewhere Between Canon and Chaos]
In a dark space made entirely of deleted subplots, Redline stood before a chalkboard filled with narrative threads.
A new name had appeared.
"Plot Armor – Resistance: Absolute."
He stared at it.
Then circled it three times.
"Time to escalate."
He turned to the shelf behind him.
Pulled out a dusty file labeled: "Original Protagonists – Dormant."
He opened it.
And smiled.
***
[1:45 P.M. – Post-Credit Scene (Because Of Course)]
Alex stood alone on the roof of the academy, wind ruffling his hoodie.
He held the weird scroll Penny gave him—the emergency genre escape spell. He hadn't used it. He'd meant to.
But deep down, some part of him wondered if maybe…
Just maybe…
He was part of the story now.
Then a pigeon pooped on his shoulder.
And just like that, the mood shattered.
"Cool," he muttered. "Thanks, narrative."