The Talentless Sovereign

Chapter One: The End

“How many times do I have to repeat it, proofread your works!” A swift kick and Jett was sent flying with a bunch of papers flying after him.

“I am sorry Ms. Jane. I am sorry!” he repeated over and over again as he crawled on the floor picking up the files that were scattered across the ground.

“Get out of my office and don't come back here until that work has been perfected!” Ms Jane tossed a folded piece of paper at him.

Jett crawled out of the woman's office in haste and closed the door carefully behind him. Everyone in the office room was peeping at him from their cubicle. He clutched his files with his back bent and walked awkwardly to his own compartment.

He was almost past the last cubicle to his own when he collided with someone else’s leg and landed on the floor, papers flying around. The entire office bursted into laughter.

“Jett the man.” Someone quipped from a corner.

“The most experienced floor man!” Another added and laughter continued to rain down on him like piercing arrows.

He rose from and stepped into his cubicle. The space was small, holding little more than a basic computer and a framed photo of his girlfriend beside it.

When he saw the picture, he smiled. With her, at least, things always felt easier.

He was about to leave when someone appeared at the entrance to his cubicle. He glanced up.

“Hey, man. I heard Jane was on your case again today,” his best friend, Zach, said, leaning against the doorway in a rather expensive suit.

“Please. I don’t want to talk about it.” He shook his head. “I just need to finish the work she dumped on me.”

“Come on,” Zach replied. “It’s already break time. Let’s go grab a drink or something.”

“A drink? Zach, I need to finish Jane’s work. Unlike you I can't just process this sum of data by just staring at the screen, please. Let me do my work! People like me don't get breaks, we work until our bones are broken!” he ranted, releasing a bit of the anger that had been welling up inside me.

Zach shook his head. “Don’t be so moody about everything. You need to relax. If you don’t, every insult they throw at you will get under your skin.”

“Easy for you to say,” Jett snapped. “A C-Class Analyst with an adept physical status. I’m nothing in this world. I’ll never be anything more than this, so just leave me alone!”

He was exhausted with his miserable existence. Everyone in the world possessed some kind of ability, from D-Class all the way to S-Class.

Everyone except him.

Jett had nothing. Not a single ability to his name.

That was why he worked as a floor man in one of the lowest companies around. Even here, he was the worst employee in the room. No talent, no recognition, nothing that could define who he was.

Jett sighed. “Look, things will get better. The government has been making cures for those without abilities, maybe if you gather enough, I promise I will help. We will get you an ability pill and maybe you might even get a B class.” his friend smiled.

Sometimes Jett wondered what this man saw in him. “I am sorry for lashing out at you. Thank you.” he said. “I really have to work though…”

“No… go out, clear your head. Let me work on this for you. I am quite free.” he smiled.

Jett smiled. “Thank you. Please, it has to be perfect.”

“Don't doubt the prowess of a C class Analyst. I am more than perfect for this job!”

Leaving his friend, he headed to the bathroom with his head down, still conscious of the scorn he received a few minutes ago.

“You can do this. A day at a time.” he told himself as he stared at the bathroom mirror.

“Ehh, look at what the cat dragged in,” someone said from behind him.

Jett spun at the sound of the voice, recognition flashing across his face. Before he could react, a hand clamped around his throat.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you.”

The man’s brown eyes gleamed as he grinned, tightening his grip.

“H-Hansel… stop…” Jett wheezed, clawing at the hand around his neck. It was useless. Even an ordinary person could choke the life out of him. Against a D-Class Reaper, he had no chance.

“Oh, you want me to stop?” Hansel chuckled. “You didn’t miss me? I’ve been gone for three whole days and not once did you think about me?”

Jett heard the tap turn, and a second later his head was shoved beneath the running water.

“Talentless bastard,” Hansel muttered

Jett stopped struggling and let the water rush over his head, flooding his nose and mouth. Fighting back was pointless. Hansel was the chairman’s son.

After a moment, Hansel let go. Jett’s head struck the sink before he collapsed onto the floor, coughing and gasping for air.

Hansel brushed his brown hair from his face and smiled down at him.

“We’re going to have a lot of fun this week,” he chuckled before walking out.

Jett slid back against the restroom wall, cold and shaking.

Hansel had started picking on him months ago, and each encounter had grown worse. Even as a mere D-Class, his father’s influence made him untouchable.

The man was the company’s assistant manager and soon to join the board of directors. The corporation itself was barely functional, but in this small stronghold it still meant power. Whoever ran it effectively ruled the community.

After a while, Jett forced himself up and dried his hair. He tried not to think about what had just happened.

Then he returned to his cubicle, shoulders slumped and eyes dull.

One of the staff slammed into him while he walked between the row of cubicles. “Watch it, talentless bitch!” The words stung him but he kept moving.

When Jett reached his cubicle, Zach was gone. The unfinished work still sat on his desk, along with a sticky note.

“Sorry, I got called by the boss. I had to leave.

—Zach.”

Jett sighed and turned to the pile of documents. He was working on a dull exposition piece.

The company, C&G Group, was a subsidiary of a larger entertainment corporation. Their department monitored finances and occasionally provided creative writing services.

As a talentless, Jett couldn’t work in finance. Creative writing was the only position he could hold, and even then an average D-Class Analyst could outperform him.

Still, he kept working.

Hours passed before a commotion stirred outside. Curious, he glanced out of his cubicle.

Three heavily built guards were heading straight for him.

“Are you Jett, two one five seven?” The head guard asked.

“Yes.” Jett replied.

“Come with us. The manager wants to see you!”

“I have a few things to fini…”

The guard grunted. “Stop talking and move!”

The minimum requirement to serve as a guard was being a C-Class Reaper. Any one of them could snap Jett in half without effort.

They escorted him to the top floor of the building and into the office of the C&G Group’s general manager. Three others were already inside.

Charlemagne, the head of security.

Hansel, the assistant manager.

And Eider Mane, the company’s strongest talent user. An Instigator, B-Class. The most powerful woman in the entire stronghold, second only to Hansel’s father, who owned the corporation.

Charlemagne glanced at Jett the moment he entered.

“So this is the brat who wired the funds?”

The general manager removed his glasses and looked him over. “Which department does he work in again?”

“He’s a floor man, sir,” one of the guards replied. “Creative department.”

“How did he get into our system? How was he able to embezzle that much funds?”

“Embezzle?” Jett blurted. “I didn't…” a kick from one of the guards crashed into his abdomen and he wheezed as he sprawled to the ground in pain.

“No one asked you a damn thing pissant!” the guard yelled.

For a moment, Jett couldn’t breathe. His throat locked as panic crept in.

Eider Mane rolled her eyes. “Try not to kick him too hard. I don’t want blood on that floor.”

The general manager rose and walked over slowly. “Where did you wire the money? Which offshore account?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, sir,” Jett said quickly. “I didn’t touch any money.”

“Beat him.”

The guards moved before he could say another word.

The first punch folded him. The next felt like a truck slamming into his ribs. They were holding back, he could tell, but it hardly mattered. By the time they finished, he could barely see straight.

“Dump him outside,” the general manager said with a dismissive wave. “And stay here. I may need you again.”

They dragged Jett into the corridor and left him slumped against the wall before returning inside.

Voices carried faintly through the door as the four of them argued about what to do with him.

No guards watched him.

So Jett did the only thing he could.

He ran.

Jett fled the building. Luckily, no one seemed to know yet, which gave him a small head start.

He flagged down a transport and shoved every bit of money he had into the driver’s hand. “Home. Fast.”

Going home probably wasn’t smart. But he needed to warn Monica before they came for him.

When he arrived, he rushed inside.

Pain screamed through his body with every step, but he pushed on. “Babe!” he called.

No response. Loud music blasted through the house. He hurried to the bedroom and threw the door open.

“Babe, I need to talk to—” The words died in his throat. “What… is this?” he said hoarsely.

“Jett?” Monica looked startled. “You’re not supposed to be home.”

His eyes filled with tears. “Monica… what is this?”

She rolled her blue eyes, completely unimpressed. “Oh, stop crying.”

Her arm slipped around the naked man beside her. Jett’s breath caught.

It was Zach. His best friend.

“What? What are you doing?” Jett yelled!!

“Why are you shouting? "Did you really think I loved you?" Monica said. Her voice was steady and cold. "Every time I held your hand, every night I let you cry on my shoulder about whatever new humiliation you'd collected, I was performing, Jett. You were just too desperate to notice."

She tilted her head. "Zach needed someone clean. Someone no one would question. A talentless floor man with no allies and no record." Her eyes moved over him slowly. "You were perfect for it."

"And you—" she gestured vaguely at him— "you made it so easy.”

The words settled in like poison. “You… used me?” Jett whispered.

Instead of answering, Monica leaned down and kissed Zach. He pulled her close, returning it without hesitation.

Something inside Jett snapped. “I’LL KILL YOU!”

He lunged forward.

Zach didn’t even stand. One hand shot out and shoved Jett back like he weighed nothing.

Jett crashed into the floor. Zach calmly pushed Monica aside and walked over, then drove a fist into Jett’s face. Another followed. And another. Jett barely felt the last few.

Then sirens wailed outside the house. Zach froze. “Damn it. The cops.”

“This idiot knows too much,” Monica said coldly. “We can’t let him talk.”

Zach glanced at her. “Do it.”

Monica reached beneath the sheets and pulled out a gun.

Jett stared at it, dazed. “What are you—” The gun fired.

He didn’t even hear the shot. Only the sharp burst of pain in his skull… before everything went dark. There were a few seconds that one experienced before they completely died and all Jett could think of was vengeance.

“If I ever get a second chance, I will hurt you all! Hansel, Monica, Zach, the board! All of you! And I will live my life to the fullest without caring! What a failure I am!!” All these thoughts permeated his head as he breathed his last!

[Congratulations, you are dead!] A screen flashed before his eyes.

[Do you want a second chance? YES OR NO]

He selected YES without thinking.

[Congratulations, you have successfully been selected by the Sovereign System.]

Then he opened his eyes!