Interface Sucks

666,666 Years Later

A woman knelt before a man who sat on a throne crafted from skulls.

"Your Majesty, we have discovered hundreds of Giants in hiding. The general is currently bringing them over." She said.

Michael stood from the throne, his black hair neatly styled, and his red eyes appeared hollow yet keen, as if they could see everything.

"Good job, Hela. Once I leave this place, you'll take control of this realm until I free you all." He said solemnly.

"Of course, your majesty!"

Michael left the area and made his way to his room.

He had lost all sense of time in this place. During his stay, he made numerous attempts to kill himself in hopes of ending his suffering. Yet, his stats had become so high that he found himself unable to even scratch himself, let alone the monsters.

Upon reaching level 5, Michael was presented with a choice of several distinct classes: Warrior, Mage, Summoner, Beast, Swordsman, Tank, and Archer.

Michael's initial choice was Summoner, enticed by its cool name, but he quickly realized its limited use in a place like this.

So he ultimately chose Mage, a decision that proved to be both the best and worst of his life.

For half of his time in this place, the monsters were driven solely by bloodlust. However, once he reached a certain level of strength, the monsters began to exhibit intelligence.

It was at that moment that Michael decided to let himself have fun a little. He formed an empire of loyal monsters who loved him (they didn't) and would die for him (they wouldn't).

Word spread among the monsters, causing some to go into hiding and refuse to pledge allegiance. In response, Michael ordered his soldiers to hunt them down and bring them to him.

As a result, his exp gain slowed to a crawl.

A few hours later, his general returned with hundreds of Hell Giants, towering so tall that their heads reached above the clouds.

"Finally, I can leave this place." Michael said.

He sensed 455 Hell Giants and, using telekinesis, compressed all of them into the size of a pebble in an instant.

[455 Trillion Exp]

[[C0ngratulation$ 0n L҉e҉v҉e҉l҉ 20! 100 Quintillion Exp f0r th3 next Level!]

[Y0u have reach3d the m1n1mum level t0 teleporT to yOuR kind! Will yOU TeLeport?]

[Y/N]

Without hesitation he pressed Y, but an error message appeared.

[Can't ǝʇɐɔo˥ other Eartlings?!!? ₜₑₗₑₚₒᵣₜᵢₙg to nearest planet!!?!]

At this point, Michael wasn't surprised by any flaws in the interface. His sole focus was on leaving this place.

[Teleporting to Planet: Aurelia]

Michael's vision faded to black, and he lost consciousness—a sensation he never thought he would miss.

***

Opening his eyes, Michael was surprised to find himself inside a cell, surrounded by brick walls.

He tried to move, but the sound of metal chains clanging drew his attention downward to his hands.

He found himself chained at both his arms and legs.

Michael frowned, not because of the chains binding him, but because he noticed how unusually small his hands and feet had become.

They appeared to be the size of a child's hands and feet.

Michael glanced at the bucket of water beside him to see his reflection, confirming that he was indeed in the body of a child. It resembled him, but younger.

With messy black hair and piercing red eyes. Michael's new appearance resembled a younger version of himself. However, he was far from pleased.

"This face is too... cute." he said to himself.

Michael's old body and face had been covered with scars, which he intentionally left unhealed to remember his battles and because he believed it made him look like a seasoned warrior.

He sighed and attempted to tug at the chains to break free, but to his surprise, they didn't break. Instead, the effort caused him pain.

The chains rubbed against his cold skin, causing a slight cut to form.

[Interface Error! Interface ìղէҽɾցɾąէìղց: 5:00:00]

Seeing the error message, he sighed. He wasn't surprised by the interface error. What did surprise him, however, was the dull feeling he was experiencing.

He had thought that escaping that hell would bring him happiness, but instead, he felt the same deep emptiness in his heart.

'Did I spend too much time alone?' He thought. That's when he heard voices nearby.

"Did you forget about me already? We were the closest of friends!"

"I was your first friend, Michael! Don't tell me you forgot?"

He turned to face the voices, or rather, the monsters. During his time in hell, he had been so lonely that his subconscious had created hallucinations of these monster as friends.

He would chat with them and engage in activities, but as he noticed himself slowly losing touch with reality, he attempted to heal himself to make the hallucinations disappear. However, they persisted and remained with him.

"The only friends who didn't leave even when I wanted them to." Michael said. "How could I forget about you guys?"

The occupants of the cells opposite Michael observed him chatting with the empty air, even laughing at times.

"Poor kid. Seems like the lack of sleep and food has driven him to go crazy."

"Can't blame him. I'm starting to lose my mind too."

A few minutes later, a bald-headed man in armor walked to each cell and handed the prisoners a loaf of stale bread.

When he arrived at Michael's cell, he sighed upon seeing him seemingly chatting with nobody.

"This one's already damaged goods. Now he'll sell for cheaper." Baldy said with a sigh.

Michael heard him and forced a laughed. "Am I just a discounted slave now?"

The bald man raised his brow. "Human? Listen here, kid. You were a good catch because of your looks. I'm sure some disgusting old man or woman would love to have you, but now you're nothing but damaged goods."

Michael locked eyes with the baldy, causing him to shiver. "Damaged goods are bad for business. How about you kill me, huh? After all, this will be your only chance."

The bald man remained silent, sweat sliding down his face. When he had first captured the kid, he had always been terrified. Every time he brought a loaf of bread, he would retreat to a corner out of fear.

However, now it seemed that something had changed. The boy spoke with the gravity of a grown adult, his eyes empty and devoid of emotion. There was something missing in him that everyone else carried in their hearts—the fear of death.

The man left Michael's cell and continued distributing food to the other prisoners.

Michael sighed. "Now, where were we?"

"We were talking about how you became the emperor of hell, my friend!"

"Ah, that's right." Michael said.

Meanwhile, elsewhere in the building, the bald man was speaking with his partners.

"We have to kill that red eyed boy!" Baldy said.

"Why? He's our 2nd best catch."

"You guys know me, right? My instincts are always right, and this time they're telling me that something is wrong with that boy!" Baldy said to his companions.

"Now y'all just settle down. Ain't nothin' gonna trouble us here. With the boss around, we're as safe as a newborn babe."

"Cooter, with all due respect you're new here, so keep quiet." Baldy said.

"Now listen here, buddy. You're just being way too dang paranoid 'bout all this."

Baldy, already on thin ice because of Michael, snapped when Cooter spoke. He threw a punch, but instantly felt immense pressure pressing down on him, forcing him to drop to his knees.

"Relax, Jim. Cooter's right. With me here, nothing's going to happen." The leader reassured. He was a giant muscle-head man with a one-eyed patch and no shirt, revealing numerous scars.

"Well, I done told ya, you're just bein' too dang paranoid."

Jim clenched his jaw tightly. "Yes, boss," he managed to say, his words strained.