The Secretary's God-Tier Glitch

Chapter 3: The Wrong Hero Arrives

"Is he coming for your stapler?" Henderson whispered, backing into a shelf.

"I think he’s coming for my soul," Bimo muttered, his grip on the golden-flecked stapler tightening until his knuckles turned a ghostly white.

The man in leather armor—Arka—didn't stop at the lobby glass. He slammed a gauntleted palm against it, and the tempered pane spiderwebbed, then shattered inward. Silence didn't follow; instead, a low, tectonic hum vibrated through the floorboards.

"You," Arka said, pointing his broadsword at Bimo. "The one with the amateur's aura. Where did you learn that stance?"

Bimo blinked, retreating toward the elevator. "Stance? I’m currently leaning against a photocopier because my life is falling apart. Can you just... not?"

"Don't play coy, filth," Arka spat, his eyes glowing with an internal, violet flame. "That shadow-slaying technique. That focus. It's a Master’s form, but you use it like a common street brawler. Who trained you?"

"I trained at the University of YouTube and a failed liberal arts degree!" Bimo shouted, tapping his car keys against his thigh. "Look, man, I have a pizza arriving at my apartment in twenty minutes. It’s thin crust, pepperoni, and it’s non-refundable. If you want to fight, go find a gym."

Arka paused, his sword lowering an inch. "Pizza? Is that some sort of forbidden alchemy?"

"It’s bread, cheese, and grease. The foundation of modern civilization. And you’re currently standing in my way."

"You mock me?" Arka lunged, the heavy broadsword whistling through the air with enough force to rearrange the office cubicles.

Bimo didn't think; he ducked. His body moved with a fluidity that shocked him, his legs pivoting like a seasoned dancer. He skidded across the carpeted floor, ending up in the hallway toward the emergency exit.

"Stop!" Arka barked, chasing him into the deserted parking garage. "Face me, coward!"

"I'm not a coward! I’m hungry!" Bimo scrambled toward his dented sedan, his fingers fumbling with the key fob.

"You hold the Skill of the Aegis, yet you run?" Arka stepped into the center of the garage, the red glow of his eyes casting long, flickering shadows against the concrete pillars. "I have tracked that signature across three rifts. Do you have any idea how rare your bloodline is?"

"My bloodline is 'Type A-Positive' and 'Easily Stressed'!" Bimo swung the driver's side door open. "Are you done yet? Because if you’re not a debt collector or a demon, I really don't have the bandwidth for this."

"A demon?" Arka laughed, a harsh, jagged sound. "You think you’ve seen a demon? You’ve seen pests. We are standing on a thinning veil, boy. And you, with your stapler-bound magic, are currently the only thing keeping the gate shut."

The parking garage lights exploded in a shower of sparks, plunging them into a suffocating, unnatural darkness.

"What was that?" Bimo hissed, grabbing a tire iron from the trunk. "Please tell me that was a fuse box."

"That," Arka said, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper, "was the sound of reality giving up."

A massive tear appeared in the air—a jagged, pulsing rift that leaked thick, violet smoke. From within, a chittering sound echoed, accompanied by the distinct, heavy thud of something massive landing on the concrete.

"Is that a... giant spider?" Bimo asked, his voice trembling.

"An Abyss Stalker," Arka said, gripping his sword with both hands. "And it’s hungry. I’ll take the legs. You keep its attention."

"Why me? I’m the guy with the car keys!"

"Because you have the shield, fool! Use the stapler!"

The Stalker lunged, its barbed limbs piercing the concrete floor like needles. Bimo dove behind a concrete pillar, the creature's claw raking the stone and sending a spray of debris into his face.

"I don't know how to use a shield!" Bimo yelled, clutching his chest as a blue screen flared into existence.

[NOTIFICATION: THREAT DETECTED. ACTIVATING 'GOD-TIER' PASSIVE: AETHERIAL BULWARK.]

"Oh, great! A passive! That sounds lazy!"

The creature opened its maw, a concentrated ball of void-energy forming between its mandibles. It fired. A beam of pure, annihilating force surged toward Bimo.

"Die, you pizza-thief!" Bimo screamed, holding the stapler out like a prayer.

A shimmering, golden dome erupted from the stapler, expanding to the size of a garage door. The beam hit the shield and shattered like glass hitting a diamond. The shockwave sent the Stalker hurtling backward, slamming it into the wall with enough force to crack the foundation of the building.

Silence returned, save for the hum of the cooling shield.

Bimo stood there, breathing hard, the stapler glowing so brightly it illuminated the dark garage.

Arka stood near the cooling carcass of the beast, his sword tip resting on the ground. He looked at Bimo, his expression shifting from rage to something akin to profound, agonizing confusion.

"That," Arka said, his voice shaking, "was a Tier-Ten Defensive Art. That technique could save a kingdom."

Bimo looked at the stapler, then at Arka. "So... I just press the button?"

Arka stared at him, his mouth agape. "You don't know the chant? You don't know the Aether-flow sequence? You didn't even... you didn't even aim?"

"I was just trying to close the gap!" Bimo groaned, sliding down the pillar. "Does this mean my pizza is going to be cold?"

Arka walked over, leaning down until their faces were inches apart. His eyes were wide, scanning Bimo as if he were a malfunctioning puzzle.

"You are an idiot," Arka whispered. "A reality-bending, god-tier idiot."

"I prefer 'entry-level employee with a lot of baggage,'" Bimo retorted.

"Bimo," Arka said, his voice deadly serious, "that wasn't just a shield. You just signaled every predator in the void. And you haven't the faintest clue how to fight back."

A low, guttural roar echoed from the rift, far louder than the one before.

Bimo looked at the rift. Then at his stapler. Then at his car. "So, you’re saying I should call in sick tomorrow?"