The Guild's Village Idiot is Actually the Strongest.
In a world where the "System" grants incredible powers, Silas is branded an Aberrant—a cosmic mistake. His "Paradoxical Path" doesn't give him magic or strength. It gives him impossible, humiliating quests.
Get pecked by five chickens.
Let a squirrel steal your lunch.
Get slapped in public by the Guild's golden boy.
Everyone in the backwater village of Oakhaven laughs at the boy with the useless System. But with every absurd challenge completed, Silas earns a hyper-specific, seemingly worthless reward: unshakeable heels, the ability to retrieve stolen items, legs that can't be knocked down.
When the arrogant Stormcaller Sir Alaric and his elite squad become trapped by a dungeon's monstrous vines, they're saved not by a mighty warrior, but by a "useless" Aberrant throwing a rock in the most inexplicable way possible.
Forced into the Guild's most despised division—Branch C, "Miscellaneous Problems"—Silas must now navigate a hierarchy that despises him, using his growing arsenal of bizarre abilities to solve problems no one else can (or wants to): a cursed oven, a whispering river, a cat in a tree guarded by an axe-wielding hermit.
All while fending off the schemes of a noble rival determined to prove he's just a lucky fool.
For Silas, every impossible quest is a stepping stone. Every humiliation is a hidden strength. And the Guild is about to learn that the greatest threat to the status quo isn't a mighty hero, but the village idiot who sees a different set of rules entirely.
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Chapter: The Geometry of GriefThe journey to the Verdant Pool was tense and silent. Silas's core team—Lyra, Pell, Hargin, and Liana—traveled together, a unit of shared purpose. Sir Alaric rode ahead, a solitary figure of gleaming disapproval, accompanied by two of his own, silent retainers.The Whispering Woods lived up to their name, but the usual sighs of wind through pines were now punctuated by strange, rhythmic clicks and hums. They found a fox hunting; it moved in a straight line, pounced with mechanical precision on a mouse, and then stood still, as if waiting for its next programmed action. The sight filled Lyra with palpable sorrow.The Verdant Pool was not a pool, but a vast, sun-dappled clearing centered around a small, crystal-clear pond. At its heart stood the Weeping Willow, but it was unrecognizable. Its once-flowing, chaotic curtain of branches had grown rigid, forming a perfect, geometric dome of interlocking leaves. Its trunk was etched with spiraling patterns that looked grown, not carved. The a
Last Updated: 2026-01-21
Chapter: The Cost of ClarityThe aftermath of the Spire mission was a whirlwind of muted acclaim and sharp scrutiny. Initiate Marla was taken into the care of the Guild's healers, her mind fragile but her own. The Spire returned to dormancy, its black glass once more inert.For Silas, the victory was twofold. The official report, co-signed by Hargin and Lyra, credited "applied paradoxical theory and empathic disruption" for the success. The jargon was impressive enough to satisfy the bureaucrats while obscuring the true weirdness. He received his [Field Command Protocols] authority—a small, bronze token that let him formally request personnel and resources for missions.More importantly, the dynamic of his tiny team solidified. Pell looked at him with unwavering loyalty. Liana, who had held the perimeter, greeted him with a solemn nod of recognition. Hargin, the gruff artificer, now addressed him as "Lead" without sarcasm, and would sometimes corner him to ask bewildered questions about "non-linear problem-solv
Last Updated: 2026-01-21
Chapter: The Song of One NoteInside the Spire's field, the world became a sterile nightmare. The sounds of the city muted into a uniform, distant hum. Shadows fell with geometric precision. Silas's own breath seemed to sync to a metronome only he couldn't hear. The pressure to think in a straight line was immense.Hargin cursed, fiddling with a brass divining rod. "My tools are giving me perfect, useless readings. Air density: constant. Magical potential: zero. It's like reading the specs of a void."Pell was breathing heavily, leaning against a wall. "The song... it's inside my head now. It's trying to make my heartbeat match its rhythm."Lyra looked pained. "The life... it's so quiet. It's not gone, it's... suppressed."They reached the Spire's base. There was no door, only a seamless surface of black glass. Hargin scanned it. "No seams, no hinges, no magical lock. It's not meant to be opened. It's a monument."< LOGIC-LOCK PRIME. PARADOXICAL PATH... SEARCHING FOR
Last Updated: 2026-01-21
Chapter: The Architect's GambitThe days following the Hall of Records incident were a study in quiet tension. Silas received his reward—20 silver crowns and 75 GMP formally deposited—with no ceremony from Kevan. No official commendation came from Torvin, but no penalty either. It was a void of an outcome, as if the Guild had collectively decided to pretend the metaphysical attack on its legal memory hadn't happened.Silas, however, couldn't pretend. The system's update about "External Protocols" was a constant, silent hum in the back of his mind. It wasn't a challenge or an ability; it was a category now, a new lens through which to view the world's weirdness. Was the Ditchwater Amalgam an accidental byproduct, or a crude attempt at a "Subsystem" by a madman? Was the Quarry's resonance a natural flaw, or the echo of something else?He found himself in the Branch C common room—a dusty alcove with mismatched chairs—more often. Pell and Liana were there too, drawn by the unspoken bond of having faced the unwriting tog
Last Updated: 2026-01-21
Chapter: The Unwritten LawThe Hall of Records was pandemonium. Scholars and clerks ran between towering shelves, grabbing scrolls and ledgers only to watch in horror as the ink on them shimmered and dissolved into faint, grey smudges. The air smelled of panic, old paper, and a strange, ozone-like emptiness. In the center of the chaos, Guildmaster Torvin stood like a stone in a river, his face grim."About time," he grunted as Kaela's group entered. "It started in the east wing, section for property disputes. Now it's in the main Guild contract archives. It's not random. It's following a pattern."Silas's senses were assaulted. His [Empathic Diagnostics] was overwhelmed by a sucking void, a profound sense of absence where meaning should be. It felt like listening to a lie so complete it erased the truth. His [Eyes of the Root Cause] saw nothing physically wrong with the parchments. The anomaly was metaphysical, targeting the information itself."What pattern?" Kaela demanded, already summoning a diagnostic sphe
Last Updated: 2026-01-20
Chapter: The Arcane InquisitionThe Hall of Resonance felt different by daylight. The same circular, marble-lined chamber where Silas had endured his affinity test now held an air of judicial solemnity. Instead of testing stations, there was a semicircular table of dark wood where five figures sat. In the center was Arcanist Kaela, her severe face framed by the high collar of her Branch A robes. To her left sat two older mages—one from Branch S with storm-grey hair, another from Branch B with the calloused hands of a practical artificer. To her right were two administrators, including the pinched face of Arciclerk Mordred, the Guild's chief bureaucrat.Sir Alaric stood at a lectern to the side, looking every inch the noble petitioner. Silas stood alone in the center of the room, the sole focus of their combined gaze. The air smelled of beeswax, old parchment, and cold judgment."Specialist Silas of Branch C," Kaela began, her voice crisp and devoid of warmth. "You are brought before this Oversight Committee on compl
Last Updated: 2026-01-20
