Chapter 108: System Reboot And A Santa

The faint chime echoed in Sage’s mind like a bell ringing in an empty hall.

[ Ding ]

[ Guild Creation System Back Online ]

[ Hello Host, long time no see. ]

Sage froze, his fingers hovering mid-page over the thick book he had been pretending to read. His golden-rimmed glasses slid slightly down the bridge of his nose. After a moment, his eyelid twitched.

“…Oh,” he said softly. The word carried no warmth, joy, or relief.

“Oh?” he repeated, leaning back in his chair, fingers steepling together as a thin smile stretched across his face. “That’s it? ’Hello host, long time no see?’”

He exhaled sharply through his nose and let out a dry laugh devoid of humor. “You disappear for two months,” Sage continued in a deceptively mild tone, “with no warning or explanation, no ’sorry for the inconvenience’, and you come back with that?”

[ Host exaggerates. System only entered temporary energy replenishment state. ]

Sage slammed the book shut and sat up straight.

“Temporary?” he snapped. “Do you even know what ’temporary’ means? Temporary is stepping outside to buy bread or going to the bathroom! It’s not vanishing while I’m single-handedly running the fastest-growing institution in the entire region!”

He gestured wildly at the bustling Guild Hall around him: adventurers lined up at the mission board, voices creating a constant hum that filled the space like a living organism.

“Do you have any idea how many times I almost died from paperwork alone?” he continued passionately. “I didn’t even have time to train! I’m still weak, you glorified parasite! If you hadn’t gone into your precious little nap, I would’ve upgraded the Guild twice by now!”

[ Correction: Host would have upgraded once. ]

Sage stared incredulously. “…Are you correcting me?”

[ Yes Host. Accuracy matters. ]

He pinched the bridge of his nose and muttered under his breath, “This is why people hate systems.”

[ Host hatred acknowledged. System remains emotionally unaffected. ]

“Stop pretending you don’t have emotions,” Sage shot back immediately. “You’re smug, I can feel it.”

There was a pause, a suspiciously long one.

[ System does not deny smugness. ]

Sage burst into loud laughter, almost hysterical, and demanded, “What kind of system goes into sleep mode to replenish energy? What are you, an old man? Did you need tea and a blanket too? Should I have tucked you in and told you a bedtime story?”

[ Host’s behavior contributed to exhaustion. ]

Sage’s smile vanished as he asked incredulously, “…Excuse me?”

[ Host continuously overworks the system, pushing optimization beyond recommended thresholds. The host engages in reckless large-scale manipulation of social structures while expecting real-time assistance. The system requires rest.]

For a moment, Sage was genuinely speechless. Then he laughed again, slower this time, with a hint of danger. “So I’m the problem now?”

[That is correct, host.]

“You are simply unbelievable.” Sage leaned back hard in his chair, staring up at the ceiling as if searching for divine patience.

“You know what?” he said calmly. “Fine. Fine. Let’s say I accept that. Let’s say I forgive you for abandoning me while I was drowning in forms, angry mercenaries, noble spies, and a five-star walking disaster.”

The system remained silent.

Sage lowered his gaze. “So,” he continued, voice sharpening, “what did I get out of your little vacation?”

[System returned fully restored.]

“And?”

[Guild Interface stability increased.]

“And?”

[Host stress tolerance slightly improved.]

Sage blinked. “…That’s it?”

[Yes.]

“No new functions?”

[None.]

“No hidden modules?”

[No.]

“No surprise rewards?”

[Negative.]

Sage stared into space before softly asking, “So what you’re telling me… is that you disappeared for two months… and came back with nothing?”

[System required break.]

He laughed again, this time hollow. “What kind of system goes on break?” he asked faintly. “You’re not an employee. You’re not unionized. You’re literally inside my soul.”

[Host incorrect. System resides in conceptual layer.]

“I don’t care where you live,” Sage snapped. “You don’t get weekends!”

[System suggests Host try sleeping less than four hours daily for two months and reassess opinion.]

“You little…”

Before Sage could finish his thought, the interface flickered.

[Notice: Guild Upgrade Conditions Met.]

Sage stopped cold.

“Say that again.”

[Guild Upgrade Conditions Met.]

“Oh so you finally noticed that the Guild has met the requirements for upgrade,” Sage said in a mocking tone.

[That is correct, Host.]

“So when did you notice this, huh?”

[Two weeks ago.]

The silence that followed was profound.

“Two,” Sage repeated slowly, “weeks… ago?”

[Correct.]

His smile returned, tight and calculating. “So you noticed and didn’t say anything because…?”

[The system was asleep.]

“I’m going to kill you.”

[Host cannot kill system.]

“I will find a way.”

[Guild Upgrade scheduled.]

Sage sighed softly as he calmed down and asked, “When will the upgrade begin?”

[The upgrade will begin at midnight.]

A slow exhale left his lips. “That’s good.”

He leaned back, fingers tapping against the desk rhythmically as his mind began recalculating timelines, opportunities, and risks.

He narrowed his eyes. “So tell me,” he said casually, “are you absolutely certain you haven’t unlocked any other functions during your ’nap’?”

The system responded without a moment’s hesitation.

[Nothing.]

“Nothing? Are you really sure about that?”

[Yes, host. The system merely rested.]

Sage stared in disbelief. “You didn’t even try to evolve.”

[No.]

“You didn’t expand at all.”

[No.]

“You didn’t get any smarter.”

[System already optimal.]

“You’re truly unbelievable.”

[Host selected system.]

“That wasn’t a choice!”

[Host signed soul contract.]

Sage groaned and slumped back in his chair. “I swear,” he muttered, “every other person gets a god-tier system, and I end up with one that’s burned out.”

[System denies burnout.]

“You literally took a nap!”

[It was a strategic rest.]

Sage was about to retort when,…

“Um… excuse me?”

The voice came from right in front of the desk.

Sage froze upon hearing it. That wasn’t just in his head.

He blinked once, then slowly raised his gaze. Standing before him was a massive, round figure crammed into noble robes that seemed to be struggling for survival.

Chubby cheeks, tiny legs, everything about the posture screamed dignity while failing miserably at it. Crumbs clung to the fabric near his chest, and his hands were clasped politely in front of him, eyes bright, curious, and just a touch nervous.

Sage stared at the man as he stared back. Silence stretched between them.

Then Sage blurted out…

“…Santa Claus, what are you doing here?”

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