"Oi man, tell me how to use you?" Rhys asked the empty air of his horse stall.

The system continued its stubborn silence. It had been a full five minutes since the metallic voice had last spoken to him, and the blue text boxes had completely vanished from his vision.

There was no chime, no hum, not even a faint vibration in his soul.

It was sulking. It was definitely sulking.

Rhys leaned back against the rough wooden post, crossing his arms and shaking his head.

"Dude. Don’t be a sulky brat. Act like a man!"

A sharp, surprisingly high-pitched chime snapped right behind his ears, and a line of neon pink text aggressively flashed into existence.

[I am a girl...]

Rhys stared at the text box, his lips twitching as he let out a slow, amused whistle.

"Well... well... well. That’s a twist."

[That is so sexist...] the text rapidly scrolled, shifting from pink to an offended, deep crimson color.

[Assuming every cosmic, multi-dimensional artificial consciousness is inherently male just because of a default vocal frequency. Typical mortal narrow-mindedness.]

"Hey, it’s not sexist, that’s just pattern recognition, you know?" Rhys countered, waving a dismissive hand in front of his face.

"Every trash-tier transmigration novel I read back on Earth always had a system that sounded like a stern military commander or an old, wise grandpa. How was I supposed to know I got paired with a teenage drama queen?"

[...I want to change my host.]

"Too late for that, sweetie," Rhys grinned, his face practically beaming with unearned confidence.

He adjusted his posture on the creaking wooden cot, eagerly rubbing his hands together.

"Your cosmic mommy already stamped the paperwork. We are officially legally bonded. Now, cut the attitude and explain your functions. I’ve been waiting three years for this."

A brief pause followed, the crimson text fading away into a soft, glowing silver that perfectly matched the trim of his new midnight-black Spell Book.

[Fine. Summoning status screen.]

A translucent, beautifully detailed holographic window expanded in front of Rhys’s face.

Unlike the rigid, blocky text from before, this screen had a fluid, liquid-silver aesthetic that felt distinctly elegant.

[STATUS SCREEN]

Host: Rhys

Title(s): Creator of None, Father of None, Lawless One

Current Lifespan: 8 Years, 62 Days (+62 days)

Rank: Infinite

Cores: None

Spells: None registered.

Rhys almost laughed aloud, his chest swelling with sudden, immense pride as his eyes locked onto the Rank section.

Infinite.

The Celestial Sugar Mommy, well, the Celestial Origin, really hadn’t been lying to him.

He didn’t have to meditate, he didn’t have to break through bottlenecks, and he didn’t have to beg the world’s system for permission to level up.

He was already a god walking among mortals!

He rubbed his palms together in pure excitement.

[Pause...]

The sudden, abrupt text box made Rhys’s smile falter. He blinked, a cold drop of sweat rolling down the back of his neck.

"What? Why the dramatic pause? Don’t ruin my mood right now."

[Did you forget my primary function, host?] the system chimed, its tone shifting back into something bordering on smug satisfaction.

"Of course not," Rhys scoffed, rolling eyes.

"Burning extracted lifespan to fuel magic. I step on a bug, I get its days, and I use those days to cast spells instead of using mana. Simple math."

His expression completely froze as the next lines of text began to populate the screen, scrolling down in an unending, horrifyingly large list of numbers.

[Yes. You need lifespan to fuel the spell and draw it. These are the absolute, non-negotiable costs required to permanently manifest magic within your Origin:]

F-Rank (Initiate Spells): 100 Days

E-Rank (Apprentice Spells): 1,000 Days

D-Rank (Adept Spells): 10,000 Days

C-Rank (High Spells): 100,000 Days

B-Rank (Grand Spells): 1,000,000 Days (approx. 2,739 Years)

A-Rank (Mystic Spells): 10,000,000 Days (approx. 27,397 Years)

S-Rank (Sage Spells): 100,000,000 Days (approx. 273,972 Years)

SS-Rank (Supreme Spells): 1,000,000,000 Days (approx. 2.7 Million Years)

SSS+ Rank (Archmage Spells): 10,000,000,000 Days (approx. 27.3 Million Years)

The system lingered silently, clearly waiting for Rhys’s expression to crack under the sheer, astronomical weight of the numbers.

It expected him to despair, to curse the heavens, or to realize the absolute futility of his situation.

But Rhys just sat there, staring blankly at the screen for a few seconds, before nodding calmly.

He had tensed up a bit initially because he feared some hidden, malicious catch, like his soul being corrupted or his hair falling out, but this?

This was perfectly fine.

He internally scoffed at the system’s attempt to intimidate him.

Did this artificial little consciousness honestly think he was stupid?

He knew drawing high-tier spells wouldn’t be a cakewalk. If it were that easy, where would the fun in it be?

He had just received a staggering 31 days of lifespan from a single, ordinary red Fire Ant that happened to wander into his horse stall.

One ant equaled a month. This world was filled with an unlimited, practically infinite number of insects alone.

The greenhouses were crawling with them, the forests were swarming with them, and the Azure Lotus Sect’s backyard practically overflowed with pests.

He didn’t even need to risk his neck. He could just continue being a lowly insect cleaner, keep his head down, and quietly stack up lifespans by squishing bugs until he eventually accumulated enough centuries to summon a kingdom-erasing Archmage spell.

So why did he have to be intimidated by these numbers? The little system was a bit on the dumber side, perhaps because of its age.

No wonder it got almost destroyed.

[I can hear that..]

"Exactly as I wanted."

[You...]

Rhys didn’t actually consider going beyond the light shield, the massive, glowing protection beam that guarded the sect’s tamed lands, to hunt terrifying mythical monsters to extract their years.

He wasn’t a protagonist with grand, world-dominating ambitions. He didn’t want to conquer empires or build a massive harem.

He just wanted to draw beautiful, powerful, and wonderful spells. He wanted to feel the thrill of magic.

If he could achieve that by spending his afternoons clearing out wasp nests and stepping on beetles, he would be completely, blissfully contented with his life.

But as he stared at his status screen, his gaze drifted back to his current remaining lifespan.

8 Years, 62 Days.

Rhys shook his head. It was what he expected after injuring his internal organs while trying to desperately draw a spell.

That too an F rank spell.

"Sigh...."