Ascended by Accident: My Luck is a Joke

Chapter 7

The clearing of the Black Vulture Sect was not a welcoming place.

Dead oak trees clawed at the darkening sky like skeletal fingers, and the heavy scent of damp earth and rotting leaves hung thick in the cool air.

Dimas took a deep breath, instantly regretting it as a stray bug flew directly into his nostril. He coughed violently, trying to mask the sound by aggressively clearing his throat.

Mei Lin glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, her hand resting firmly on the hilt of her silver sword.

"If you are going to die, Ancestor, please do it quietly," she whispered, her voice barely carrying over the rustle of the wind. "The enemy is already here."

Dimas adjusted his peeling dragon-print pajamas, trying to look like a man who was not currently suffering from a mild asthma attack.

"I am merely clearing my throat to prepare my spiritual channels, General," Dimas wheezed, wiping his nose with his sleeve. "A true master must always be fully ventilated."

Before Mei Lin could offer a scathing reply, a rustling sound echoed from the dark foliage.

A dozen figures emerged from the shadows of the ancient trees, their dark, feathered cloaks billowing behind them. They moved with a synchronized, eerie grace that made Dimas’s stomach do a slow, painful flip.

In the center of their formation stood a young man who looked far too muscular to be a teenager.

His arms were the size of small tree trunks, wrapped tightly in leather bandages that did little to hide his bulging, pulsing veins.

This was Zhao, the self-proclaimed "Prodigy of the Iron Claw." He wore a smug, lopsided grin, and his fingers ended in sharp, metal-tipped claws that glinted wickedly in the fading twilight.

"So," Zhao sneered, stepping forward and cracking his knuckles with a sound like snapping branches. "This is the legendary Ancestor of the Cloud-Step Sect."

The young prodigy stopped a few paces away, his arrogant gaze sweeping over Dimas’s mismatched attire.

"He looks... remarkably fragile," Zhao continued, a low chuckle escaping his chest. "Are those sleeping garments, or does the great master simply dress like a peasant who has lost his mind?"

Dimas felt a cold sweat break out across his forehead. He desperately wished he was back in Jakarta, arguing with angry customers over late internet installations.

"Actually, these are high-performance loungewear," Dimas replied, trying to project a voice of supreme confidence. "They are designed for optimal aerodynamic efficiency. You wouldn't understand the fashion of the higher realms."

The Black Vulture disciples murmured among themselves, clearly unsettled by his total lack of fear.

Mei Lin took a subtle step to the side, her eyes tracking the movements of the surrounding guards. She was ready to draw her blade at a moment's notice.

Zhao raised a single, bandaged hand to silence his followers, his grin widening into something predatory.

"I do not care about your strange garments, old man," Zhao spat, pointing his gleaming metal claw directly at Dimas’s nose. "I, Zhao of the Iron Claw, challenge you to a duel of honor! Let us see if your bones are as strong as your tongue!"

Dimas’s heart hammered against his ribs like a trapped bird.

He needed a way out, and he needed it now.

With a subtle flick of his wrist, he summoned the blue holographic Customer Support screen.

To any outsider, he was simply staring blankly into space, but to Dimas, a glowing window of pure, buggy options had just materialized before his eyes.

The screen flickered violently, emitting a soft static noise that only he could hear.

CUSTOMER SUPPORT V1.04 - SPECIAL OFFERS ACTIVATED!

He swiped his finger through the air, trying to find anything that could save his skin.

Option 1: Ultimate Flying Sword Technique (Locked - Insufficient Karma).

Option 2: Celestial Thunder Barrier (Locked - Subscription Expired).

Option 3: 1995 Neon-Blue Light-Up Feature (Active - Free Trial).

Dimas blinked in utter disbelief at the floating text.

He looked down at his "divine sneakers," which currently resembled cheap, synthetic sports shoes from a discount bin.

"Are you serious?" he muttered under his breath, his eyes darting between the screen and the muscular teenager. "Light-up shoes? What am I supposed to do, dance him to death?"

Zhao took a heavy step forward, his boots crushing a fallen branch into splinters.

"Are you ignoring me, Ancestor?" the teenager demanded, his face flushing with sudden anger. "Or are you too cowardly to face a true prodigy?"

Dimas quickly tapped the screen, hoping against hope that the system had some sort of hidden combat application.

"I am merely... consulting the ledger of your fate," Dimas lied smoothly, his eyes still darting across the holographic screen. "The heavens are currently calculating the exact percentage of your survival. Spoiler alert: it's not looking good."

Mei Lin let out a soft, sharp breath, clearly impressed by his audacity, though she still kept her hand on her sword.

"Bold words for a man who smells faintly of stale tea and fear," Zhao grunted, crouching into a low combat stance.

Dimas’s finger hovered over the blue "Activate" button on the floating screen. He didn't have any other choice.

If he died here, his free room and board at the Cloud-Step Sect would go up in smoke. Worse, he would actually be dead.

He pressed the virtual button.

Nothing happened for a long, agonizing second.

Dimas shifted his weight from one foot to the other, feeling incredibly foolish as the wind whistled through the clearing.

Then, he took a tentative step forward.

STOMP.

A blinding, electric-blue flash erupted from the soles of his sneakers, casting a harsh, artificial light across the dark clearing.

STOMP.

As he took another step back in surprise, the other shoe flared to life with an equally violent, pulsating neon-blue glare.

The twilight was instantly shattered by a rapid, rhythmic strobe-light effect. Every time Dimas moved even an inch, his feet emitted a high-frequency flash that illuminated the trees, the grass, and the terrified faces of the Black Vulture Sect.

The sheer intensity of the light was jarring, casting long, erratic shadows that danced wildly across the clearing.

"What is this magic?" one of the Black Vulture disciples shrieked, covering his eyes with a dark sleeve.

"My eyes! It burns like the sun!" another cried out, stumbling backward into a thorn bush.

Zhao froze in his tracks, his massive arms raised defensively to block the blinding blue flashes.

The rhythmic strobe light bounced off the metal of his iron claws, creating a dizzying, hypnotic reflection that made it impossible to focus.

"An illusion spell!" Zhao roared, his voice trembling slightly despite his bravado. "He is casting a high-level illusion! He is bending the light itself!"

Mei Lin stared at Dimas’s feet in absolute, unadulterated shock.

She had expected many things from the "Ancestor," but a spell that turned his very footwear into blinding beacons of heavenly energy was not one of them.

"So this... this is the true power of the divine shoes," she whispered, her eyes wide as she watched the neon-blue pulses paint the forest in surreal shades of electric azure.

Dimas realized, with a sudden surge of adrenaline, that they were actually buying it.

He began to bounce lightly on his heels, causing the sneakers to flash in a rapid, dizzying sequence that looked like a 1990s rave in the middle of a medieval forest.

"You dare challenge the master of the Neon Path?" Dimas boomed, trying to sound as majestic as possible while holding his arms out.

"Behold the Starlight of the Nine Heavens!" he shouted, his voice echoing through the trees. "One wrong move, and your soul will be dissolved into the azure void!"

He took a dramatic step forward.

FLASH. FLASH. FLASH.

The blinding blue light pulsed with the force of a small lightning storm.

Zhao took a panicked step backward, his depth perception completely ruined by the flashing strobe.

"He... he is shifting through dimensions!" Zhao gasped, his eyes darting frantically as he tried to track Dimas's movements through the strobe-like darkness.

"Every flash represents a leap through space and time!" a disciple yelled from the back, his voice cracked with terror. "He is not even standing where we see him!"

Dimas suppressed a laugh. He was literally just standing there, vibrating slightly because his knees were shaking so hard.

The sheer absurdity of the situation was almost too much to bear.

He was defeating a martial arts prodigy with the power of cheap, battery-operated sneakers.

"General," Dimas whispered loudly to Mei Lin, keeping his eyes locked on the trembling Zhao. "How does the illusion look from your side?"

"It is... terrifyingly chaotic," Mei Lin replied, her voice filled with a rare sense of reverence. "The rhythm is unnatural. It defies the flow of worldly Qi. I cannot even tell where your feet touch the ground."

"That's because they barely do," Dimas said, flashing a grin that was hidden by the darkness between the strobes. "It's all in the soles, baby."

Zhao’s confidence was completely shattered.

He looked at his own massive, iron-shod hands, then at the flashing blue light that seemed to swallow the very shadows around them.

"This is not a duel," Zhao muttered, his voice cracking slightly. "This is... this is a trap."

"Of course it's a trap!" Dimas shouted, taking another heavy step that triggered a double-flash. "The heavens do not tolerate the arrogant! Submit now, or face the full power of the 1995 Neon Storm!"

The Black Vulture disciples began to murmur in panic, some of them already taking tentative steps backward into the safety of the dark forest.

They had come to defeat a weak, aging sect, but instead, they had run headfirst into a glowing, pajama-clad deity who commanded the very lightning under his heels.

"Stand your ground!" Zhao yelled to his men, though his own legs were shaking. "He is just one man! He cannot blind us all!"

"Are you sure about that, kid?" Dimas asked, giving a little hop.

FLASH-FLASH-FLASH-STRIKE!

The clearing erupted in a synchronized burst of brilliant, neon-blue light that reflected off the leaves like a thousand miniature suns.

Several disciples threw their weapons to the ground, screaming about their impending spiritual blindness.

Mei Lin stepped forward, her silver blade fully drawn now, the cold steel catching the blue flashes in a terrifying display of readiness.

"Your prodigy has lost his sight, and your men have lost their courage," Mei Lin declared, her voice cold and commanding. "Will you yield, or shall the Ancestor erase your very existence from the annals of the province?"

Zhao looked at Mei Lin, then at the blinding, flashing nightmare that was Dimas's feet.

The young prodigy swallowed hard, his metal claws trembling.

"We... we shall meet again, Cloud-Step Sect!" Zhao yelled, though it sounded incredibly weak as he turned and began to sprint away.

"Run! The azure void is consuming the forest!" a disciple screamed, tripping over his own cloak as the entire group scattered into the dark trees.

Within seconds, the clearing was dead silent, save for the wind and the rhythmic, silent flashing of Dimas's shoes.

Dimas stood still for a moment, letting out a long, slow breath.

"Well," he said, looking down at his feet, which were still pulsing with a steady, blue light. "I think that went rather well, don't you?"

Mei Lin slowly sheathed her sword, her eyes never leaving his blinking footwear.

"You are a very strange man, Dimas," she said quietly.

"I prefer the term 'innovative,'" Dimas smiled, turning to walk back down the path, his every step lighting up the dark forest like a neon sign.