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Waking up in another man's body is a classic trope. Lukas Belmont, a transmigrant with a library of webnovels in his head, knows exactly how this is supposed to go. Waking up as the powerless, orphaned ward in a house of super-powered heroes, with a system interface demanding he get laid to level up? That’s just another day. He’s the Unmarked son of dead legends, three months from the entrance exam for Halloran Academy. His stats are garbage, his social status is ‘charity case,’ and his only path to power is the Scumbag System. And the System is a passive-aggressive, trolling interface that offers him reality-bending powers through a gacha mechanic funded by one thing: raising the ‘Temptation Gauges’ of the women around him. His first quest? It’s to smack the ass of Sloane Fitzgerald—his fiery, super-powered psuedo-sister who sees him as a brother and a pervert in equal measure. The penalty for failure? A fifty-percent reduction of his manhood. Permanently. In a California city where heroes are the new celebrities, Lukas must navigate the brutal politics of the super-powered elite, hide a power system nobody can detect, and survive an academy that eats the Unmarked for breakfast. He’s got the meta-knowledge of a webnovel addict, the tactical mind of a survivor, and a system that’s half-tutor, half-blackmailer. But can an insect with a gacha system really climb a ladder built for gods? He's about to find out, one humiliating quest at a time. ------------------------------ The first thing that should have told me this wasn't my room was the curtains. I didn't have the luxury to ever have curtains of any kind in my room it was half torn up window blinds or nothing most of the time. The second thing is that this bed was far too big to be my full sized bed. It was King sized at least with comfortable sheets and a mattress that felt like it should be illegal to get out of. "What the…" I mumbled, pushing up to my elbows and yawning as I tried to chase away the last bit of sleepiness. The room came into focus slowly, there were cream walls with minimalist furniture and a desk with a sick gaming setup tucked neatly into the corner. This was not my room, not even close. I patted around for my phone but couldn't find it anywhere. Damn, had I gone drinking last night or something? My brain scrambled for any semblance of memory but it was all just a fuzzy static. Ding. A notification sounded from somewhere but with my skull currently feeling like it just got split open it was pretty low on my priority list. "Water," I croaked while swinging my legs off the bed, My feet hit plush carpet instead of the chicken scratch carpet I was used to. I stood up shakily, nearly tripping at the unfamiliarity of my long legs. Why was I so tall? The door felt like it was a million miles away as I shuffled to it. I grabbed the handle and pulled it open to reveal a hallway that looked like it belonged on Architectural Digest. There were hardwood floors that gleamed under the recessed lighting with paintings that hung the walls and sculptures that filled up the empty void. Some of them looked like superheroes wearing capes. Huh, must be big Marvel fans. Another door stood slightly ajar down the hall and I went towards it. Hopefully the bathroom is here. I opened the door and the bedroom was thankfully unoccupied but obviously belonged to a girl. The walls were a soft purple and there was a vanity with makeup scattered across it. Posters of what I could only describe as a KPOP group who had a super hero aesthetic filled the walls as well. "Okay, wrong room. Wait… a girls room?" I rubbed my eyes and looked again. Yeah, it was still a girl's room. "Holy shit," I whispered. "Did I end up at a sorority house? Did I actually lose my virginity my first semester?" I grinned despite the headache. "Fucking champion move! But why can't I remember any of it?" The next door revealed what looked like an office. Expensive furniture, shelves of books, framed certificates on the walls. I closed it quickly. Door number three: a linen closet packed with towels. Fourth door: finally, a bathroom. Massive, marble-countered, with a shower that could fit five people. I staggered to the sink, twisted the fancy faucet, and splashed cold water on my face repeatedly. The shock of it helped clear my head a little. I took a deep breath and looked up at the mirror. A stranger stared back at me. "WHAT THE HELL?!" I clapped a hand over my mouth before slowly lowering it, watching the reflection do the exact same thing. The face in the mirror looked nothing like the me I remembered. This guy was tall and skinny with sharp cheek bones and dirty blonde hair. Amber eyes—who the hell has amber eyes?—stared back at me, wide with shock. "Who the fuck are you?" I whispered, watching the stranger's lips move in perfect sync. I touched my face and the skin felt real underneath my fingertips. I pulled at my cheeks and stuck out my tongue watching the mirror do the exact same movements. "This is a dream," I decided. "A very weird, detailed dream. I'm going to wake up in my dorm room with a hangover any second now." Ding. That notification again. This time, something flashed across my vision like a heads-up display in a video game. Text floated in the air: [SCUMBAG SYSTEM: Welcome, Host. System initialization complete.] I blinked hard, but the text remained. [SCUMBAG SYSTEM: Memory integration beginning. Please stand by.] "What the actual—" My head felt like it was exploding with the influx of information entering my brain. Names, places, years of memories that I now currently have ownership of in someway. I was the ward of Diane Fitzgerald and the unmarked son of dead heroes. I was Lukas Belmont. I gripped the counter as the bathroom spun around me with these foreign memories flooded my brain. He was in a city called Verano aspiring for a school named Halloran Academy. The society was filled with people that had superpowers called Aspects that were registered with something called the IHL. And there was me, Lukas Belmont who had no powers at all. "Holy shit this can not be happening," I whispered, but even as the words slipped out of my mouth I knew it was real. Somehow, I had woken up in someone else's body, in a world where superheroes were real and licensed and ranked. [SCUMBAG SYSTEM: Memory integration complete. Host identity: Lukas Belmont. Status: Unmarked. Current mission: None.] "Mission? What mission?" [SCUMBAG SYSTEM: Mission queue empty. Processing...] The text hovered for a moment, then changed: [SCUMBAG SYSTEM: New Main Quest unavailable.] "Alright then." I looked back in the mirror to see the stranger, well, myself now. Lukas wasn't bad looking at all he just looked tired. Those amber eyes of his carry so much weight and now they carried mine too. I splashed some more water on my face and then grabbed the softest hand towel I'd ever had to dry off. Okay, time to get my bearings and figure out who Lukas Belmont truly was. I headed back to what I now understood was Lukas's bedroom, my bare feet silent on the hardwood. As I walked, another notification pinged: [ORACLE FEED ACTIVATED] [Current threat assessment: None] [Local points of interest: Kitchen (occupied) - Sloane Fitzgerald present] Text appeared in my peripheral vision, listing information about the house layout and current occupants. Apparently, part of this "system" was an awareness feed that told me where people were and what they were doing. "That's not creepy at all," I muttered, pushing open the door to Lukas's room. Inside, I found the closet and pulled it open. Rows of clothes hung neatly—expensive-looking but understated. I grabbed jeans and a dark hoodie, both of which fit perfectly. Of course they did. This was supposedly my body now. As I dressed, I caught sight of a photo on the nightstand. A man and woman in colorful uniforms smiling proudly at the camera. Lukas's parents. Damn, this kid had lost his parents and now it seems like I took over his life. That's rough buddy. I picked up the photo to study the faces of Varen and Reina Belmont. Heroes who died saving civilians. "I'm sorry," I whispered, though I wasn't sure if I was apologizing to them or to Lukas himself. I set the photo down and headed for the door. Time to face whatever this world had in store for me. As I stepped into the hallway, another notification flashed: [ORACLE FEED UPDATE] [Subject: Sloane Fitzgerald] [Location: Kitchen] [Status: Irritated] [Temptation Gauge: 22%] "Temptation gauge?" I whispered. "What the hell is a—" [SCUMBAG SYSTEM: The Temptation Gauge measures a woman's attraction level to the host. Current subject: Sloane Fitzgerald. Current level: Curious (22%)] I stopped dead in the hallway. "You're telling me this system tracks how much women want to sleep with me?" [SCUMBAG SYSTEM: Affirmative. Temptation Gauges generate System Points when increased. System Points purchase Gacha pulls. Gacha pulls award abilities.] "So, a dating sim's reward loop bolted onto a gacha mechanic," I said to the empty hall. "All set in a superhero world where main only path to power is getting women hot enough to fund my slot machine pulls. Fantastic." [SCUMBAG SYSTEM: Correction: The system awards real abilities through the Gacha. Abilities are not detectable by conventional Aspect scans.] I leaned against the wall, trying to process this. "So I can get powers, but nobody will know I have them because I'm registered as Unmarked?" [SCUMBAG SYSTEM: Correct.] "And I get these powers by..." [SCUMBAG SYSTEM: System Points are generated through relationship progression. Temptation Gauges track progress. Missions accelerate progression.] I pushed off from the wall, shaking my head. "This is insane. I'm stuck in someone else's body, with a system that wants me to seduce women for gacha pulls, in a world with actual superheroes." [SCUMBAG SYSTEM: Assessment accurate.] "At least you're honest," I muttered, continuing down the hallway toward where the Oracle Feed said the kitchen was. ... I made my way into the kitchen and immediately got blessed with a beautiful sight. Sloane Fitzgerald stood at the fridge with her back to me, bent forward slightly as she rummaged through the refrigerator. She was wearing a black sports bra and booty shorts that showed off her peach shaped ass. Her pink ponytail swung as she moved with loose stands falling around her face. Fuck, those thighs could crush watermelons. Her ass was… exceptional. It was round and firm, but it still jiggled a little when she shook her left foot on the ground. The scene was so hypnotic I was frozen in the doorway like an absolute idiot. Don't stare. Don't be that guy. You're better than this. I wasn't better than this. [ORACLE FEED UPDATE] [Subject: Sloane Fitzgerald] [Status: Searching for post-workout protein shake] [Current attire: Minimal] [Threat assessment: High if she catches you staring] [Temptation Gauge: 22%] Thanks for nothing, creepy interface. Then another notification blazed across my vision, this one different. Bright red text with an obnoxious little peach emoji next to it. [🎯 NEW SCUMBAG QUEST ISSUED! 🎯] [HEROINE CANDIDATE DETECTED: Sloane Fitzgerald] [QUEST: Get That Peach! 🍑] [OBJECTIVE: Smack Sloane Fitzgerald's ass within 36 hours] [REWARD: Beginner's Gift Pack + 500 System Points] [FAILURE PENALTY: Host's manhood reduced by 50%] [TIME LIMIT: 36:00:00] I blinked. Read it again. Then read it a third time because surely I was hallucinating. "What the actual fuck," I whispered. Sloane straightened up, still facing away from me. "Did you say something?" "Nope." She pulled out a protein shake an kicked the door closed with her heel. Are we deadass? I have to smack her ass or my dick is gonna shrivel like a grape in the sun? Even a titan would become average with that penalty. [SCUMBAG SYSTEM: Quest refusal will result in automatic penalty acceptance. Timer has begun.] "No no no," I muttered under my breath. "I refuse. This is insane. You can't just—" [⚠️ WARNING: Refusal detected. Penalty will be applied in 5 seconds unless quest is accepted.] [5...] [4...] My hands clenched into fists. This fucking system. [3...] 'Fine! Fine, I accept! Jesus Christ!' [2...] [QUEST ACCEPTED] [Good luck, Host. You'll need it. 😊] Okay, whoever created this system deserved to get punched in the balls multiple times. Sloane finally turned around, sipping on her protein shake and her blue eyes narrowed when she saw me just standing in the doorway just staring at her like some creep. "How long have you been standing there?" "I just walked in a second ago." "Bullshit." She took another sip of her drink. "I could feel you standing there and staring at my ass like a pervert." Her sports bra was black with a logo I didn't recognize and had the midriff exposed showing off her abs with a thin sheen of sweat covering her skin, giving her body a glow with the morning light streaming through the kitchen windows. The booty shorts from the front showed off her thigh gap which I didn't know if that was better or worse than the view from behind. "Hey, I wasn't staring," I said while walking past her to the coffee maker. "You just happened to be in my way to get to the coffee maker." "So you just waited your turn while staring at my ass." I grabbed a mug from the cabinet using Lukas's memories to lead me to the location without needing to search. Damn, muscle memory was a hell of a thing. "Now why would I stare at your ass?" "Because you're a guy and it's there. Don't play innocent, I know I look good." She's got a point. I poured in coffee from a pot that someone had already made. "Narcissist much? Maybe I was just spacing out." "Spacing out while staring directly at my ass." "I wasn't staring at your ass, Sloane." "Then what were you staring at?" The quest timer in the corner of my vision ticked down. 35:58:43. 35:58:42. I took a sip of coffee. Black, because adding cream seemed like too much effort and Lukas apparently drank it this way. "Nothing. I was thinking about other stuff." "What stuff?" "None of your business stuff." She moved closer, setting her shake down on the counter with a thunk. "You're acting weird." "I'm always like this." "No, you're not." She crossed her arms under her chest, which made her modest sized breasts look even bigger. "Normally you'd have made some smartass comment by now. Instead you're just standing there looking like someone hit you with a brick." [Subject: Sloane Fitzgerald] [Suspicion level: Elevated] [Recommended action: Deflect with characteristic sarcasm] "Maybe I'm becoming a better person. Less smartass, more class." "You don't have class." "I have some class." "You wear the same hoodie four days in a row." "I have four identical hoodies." She snorted at that and finally some of the suspicion in her eyes faded away. Good, the last thing I needed was her to be wary of me. The quest notification pulsed again, reminding me of its existence like I could somehow forget. 36 hours to smack that ass or lose half my dick. This was the worst isekai premise in history. ... "Mom's already on a plane to New York," Sloane said, breaking the silence. "She said she would be back in a week." "Cool." "Are you going to make something or just stand there drinking coffee?" "Coffee is breakfast." "Coffee isn't good enough for breakfast dumbass. You're not an old man." I Shrugged. "Diane has coffee for breakfast all the time." "Diane is an old woman, they live by different rules." "She isn't—" I started automatically until I realized Lukas didn't know hold old Diane really was. Apparently it had been a joke between the three of them to try to find out how old their mother really was. Sloane's lips curved into a smirk. "According to what I found, she is anywhere from thirty-eight to fifty-seven." "Wow. glad you narrowed it down so much. Your deductive skills are scary Sloane." "Tch, shut up." I took another sip of coffee and watched Sloane over the rim of my mug. Sloane went back to drinking her protein shake. The Temptation Gauge in the corner of my vision was still at 22 percent. All that means is I had 34 hours to raise that number up and complete a quest that would get me badly wounded if I actually attempted it. Thanks for the quest system, really feeling like a golden middle finger right now. "Quit staring at me weirdo." Sloane said without looking at him. "I'm just thinking." "About what?" "If I want to make some toast and jelly to go with my coffee." "Even an idiot could see you aren't thinking about that." No shit! I'm thinking about how I can complete this mission to smack your ass and keep my manhood! I finished my coffee and cleaned the mug in the sink. "Well, I'm going back to my room now." "Why? You just got here." "Yeah and now I'm leaving." Sloane pushed off the counter and i tried my hardest to not notice how it made her breast jiggle. Task failed spectacularly. "You're being weird today," she repeated and stepped closer to me. "What's the matter with you?" "I feel fantastic." "Bullshit." Sloane was close enough that I could smell the citrus body spray she used after completing her workouts and see her full luscious lips. "You've been off since you came here and spent your time staring at my ass. You had a nightmare or something?" The concern in her voice under the insults caught me off guard. She actually seemed really worried about me. Well, about Lukas. I mean they did live together for nine years and she had a front row seat in seeing Lukas grow from a traumatized eight-year-old into… well whatever her opinion was of Lukas before he took over. "I didn't stare at your ass and I'm fine, just a little tired." "You went to bed early last night though." "Yeah, had a rough night of sleep." Sloane studied my face with those beautiful blue eyes of hers searching for something. "You'd let me know if something was wrong, right?" Shit, would Lukas tell her? Judging from his memories he seems like the type to keep his emotions close to his chest in order to not be a burden to anyone. "Sure," I lied. "Liar." She reached up and flicked my forehead hard enough to sting. "You're an idiot, you know that?" "Ow!! What was that for?" "For being weird and not explaining why." She stepped back, grabbing her shake. "I'm going to shower. Try not to be such a weirdo when I get back." She walked past me toward the doorway, and the quest timer pulsed again. 35:45:12. My hand twitched. The system really wanted me to do this right now with her back turned to me and her juicy ass right there for a smacking. Absolutely not. [ORACLE FEED UPDATE] [Optimal completion window detected] [Subject is distracted] [Success probability: 78%] [Consequence probability: 94%] That consequence probability seemed more relevant than the success rate. Sloane paused in the doorway, looking back over her shoulder. "What?" "Nothing." "You're staring again." "I'm not staring." "You're literally staring right now." She was right, I was staring directly at her ass. This was bad. "Just admiring the scenery," I said before my brain could stop my mouth. Her eyes went wide. "What did you just say?" Oh. Oh no. That came out wrong. Very wrong. "The kitchen," I clarified quickly. "The kitchen scenery. Nice counters. Good lighting." "You weren't looking at the counters, Lukas." "The floor then. Great tiles." "Try again." It felt like the temperature in the kitchen dropped about fifteen degrees despite being at 72 degrees. Sloane fully turned around, planting her hands on her hips. "Elaborate about what you meant by that." Her voice had gone lower. Lukas had heard that tone before. It usually came right before Sloane either literally or figuratively exploded at someone depending on how much they pissed her off. "I didn't mean anything by it." I said carefully. "It was just a quote I found on the internet and repeated without thinking." "You don't say things without thinking, dumbass. You never have." "Maybe this is character growth for me." "Growing into a pervert?" "I'm not a pervert." "Then why are you staring at my ass like one!?" 35:43:55. "I've already said I wasn't staring at your ass!" I replied, matching her energy. "And I'm saying you're full of shit!" "Maybe stop being so self-conscious!" "I'M NOT SELF-CONSCIOUS!" She gestured wildly at herself. "I LOOK LIKE THIS! Why would I be self-conscious?" Valid point. Very valid point. "Then why would you be mad if I was looking?" "Because you can't be!" "…why not?" "BECAUSE!" Sloane's face went red with embarrassment. "Because we live together and you're supposed to be… to be…" Sloane didn't finish that sentence and the red in her face spread down the neck. The Temptation Gauge increased to 23 percent. [ORACLE FEED UPDATE] [Subject emotional state: Flustered] [Recommended action: Press advantage] "What am I not supposed to be, Sloane?" "Nothing!" Sloane spun around. "Forget it! You're being so weird right now!" She stormed out of the kitchen, and I heard her footsteps thunder up the stairs. A door slammed somewhere above me. [SCUMBAG SYSTEM: Congratulations! Temptation Gauge increased by 1%. Current progress: 23%] "That's what you're focused on?" I muttered. "Not the fact that she almost blew up the kitchen?" [SCUMBAG SYSTEM: Emotional volatility indicates successful engagement with target. Continue this approach for optimal results.] "Optimal results being me getting murdered before the 36 hours run out?" [SCUMBAG SYSTEM: Death is not listed as a quest failure condition. You'll be fine.] So Sloane in the span of a few minutes went from suspicious to angry to finally being flustered. And her temptation towards him increased. So that's what the system considers a success… interesting. I decided to head back to my room with the only sound being my footsteps and the sound of a shower starting in the bathroom down the hall where Sloane was getting ready to shower. Don't think about how she looks naked. [ORACLE FEED UPDATE] [Subject: Sloane Fitzgerald] [Location: Second floor bathroom] [Status: Showering] "Didn't ask." I hissed at the interface. [ORACLE FEED: Information provided proactively for host awareness.] "Stop being so damn proactive." I made it back to my room and shut the door, leaning against it. The quest timer glowed in the corner of my vision like a countdown to my doom. This was fine. Everything was fine. I was going to die. === [A/N:] If you enjoyed this chapter, please consider adding this story to your library and leaving a vote. Your support helps me keep writing, release more chapters from my backlog, and speed up my updates. And if you have any thoughts, suggestions, or just want to share what you think about this chapter, feel free to drop me a message. I'd love to hear from you! See you in the next chapter! ☜(⌒▽⌒)☞ ... I slumped back on my comfortable bed to stare at the ceiling like it held all the answers to the universe. Unfortunately, it didn't. "Yo system," I said out loud. "Do I have a status screen or what?" [SCUMBAG SYSTEM: Status display initiated.] A blue panel materialized in my vision, floating there like some RPG menu screen. [ STATUS ] Name: Lukas Belmont Level: 1 DP: 0 SP: 0 [ ATTRIBUTES ] STR: 10 | AGI: 10 | DEX: 10 INT: 10 | END: 10 [ ACTIVE SKILLS ] (0/2) [ PASSIVE SKILLS ] (0/3) Tens across the board, huh? "Am I really this much of an NPC?" [SCUMBAG SYSTEM: Compared to registered Heroes with developed Aspects? Yes. You are statistically below average in every measurable category.] "Thanks for the ego boost." [SCUMBAG SYSTEM: Your current physical baseline would place you in the bottom 15% of Halloran Academy applicants.] "Damn it." I ran a hand down my face. "So this is an actual hero society? Like with real hero rankings and real villains?" I remembered some of Lukas' old memories where there were hero advertisements on billboards and rankings updated quarterly like sports standings. Kids would manifest aspects between the years of six to eight and get fast tracked into prep programs if they were strong enough. This was an entire economy and society built around people with the best powers and Lukas doesn't have shit. "I wonder how it's different from my world," I muttered. "Like, do they have normal celebrities still? Or is everyone just obsessed with Heroes? What about—" [SCUMBAG SYSTEM: Existential contemplation detected. Would you prefer to focus on immediate survival concerns instead?] "Right. Because I have bigger problems." I sat up. "Man, how badass would it be if I could become a Hero though? Like actually make it. Get into Halloran, graduate, hit the rankings..." The fantasy played out in my head. Standing on some rooftop, cityscape behind me, costume billowing in the wind. Getting interviewed by reporters. Having my own agency. Maybe a merchandising deal. Money. So much money. Then reality crashed back in. "But how the fuck can I be a Hero if I have to grope my benefactor's daughter for power?" [SCUMBAG SYSTEM: Clarification—the current quest only requires a smack, not groping. Though groping is permitted if you prefer that approach.] "Not helping, system." [SCUMBAG SYSTEM: Accuracy is more valuable than emotional support.] I fell back on the bed staring at the ceiling again as the timer kept ticking down in my peripheral vision 35:32:15 35:32:14 35:32:13 my worth as a man is literally at stake here! "Okay…" I rapped my fingers against my stomach. "How do I smack that ass if he's while having a good and natural reason to?" Say she has a spider on her ass? Nah… she'd freak out and then blast me through a wall because of lying to her about it. Or she might do it to kill the spider. But what if I just plant a spider on her ass? Fuck no. I hated spiders too I can't touch one. Trip and accidentally fall into her ass? What am I, a lucky pervert harem protagonist? Ask her to grab something and smack it while she's bent over? Yeah that's how you end up on them Diddy lists. "There has to be a way," I said to the empty room. "Some angle I'm not seeing. Some—" Wait. I put my hand on my face and grinned. "Heh, I'm a fucking genius!" [SCUMBAG SYSTEM: Your solution has been noted and probability of success calculated. Please proceed.] "Oh, you're going to love this." I got off the bed and exited my room. The hallway was quieter now without any water running. Looks like Sloane finished her shower. I walked down the hallway to Sloane's closed door and knocked. No answer. I knocked again at a harder and faster pace. "The fuck do you want?" Her irritated voice came through muffled. "I need to ask you something." "Fuck off." "It's important, Sloane." "Don't care. Didn't ask." I knocked again and the door yanked open so hard and fast I nearly lost my balance. Sloane stood there with her pink hair still damp and hanging loose, dressed in an oversized band t-shirt that fell to her mid thighs. Her blue eyes glared up at me. "What is it?" I met her glare head on. "Please teach me how to fight." Sloane stared at me with a blank expression. "What?" "Did I stutter?" I crossed my arms and leaned against her doorframe. "I want you to teach me the combat training you do for Halloran prep." "Are you insane?" "Does it matter?" Sloane stared at me like I grew a second head. "I don't know if you hit your head or something but you're unmarked. You don't have an aspect so what's even the point? "Self-defense?" "Self-defense." She repeated. "You want me to teach you self-defense." "Against people with Aspects, yeah." "That's not how it works, dumbass. An Unmarked person can't fight someone with a developed Aspect. The gap is too big. It's why the licensing system exists." "So you're saying I'm helpless?" "No, I'm saying to be realistic." Sloane shifted her weight putting one hand on her hip which caused her shirt to ride up a little. "There's no way an Unmarked can beat a strong aspect user. No way, no how. But you know this already so what the hell changed?" Damn, because the previous Lukas had been put down by the world with his unmarked status, he resigned to spend the rest of his life being in the shadow of those who mattered. Yeah, I'm not spending my new lease on life being an extra in someone else's story. "Maybe I just got tired of being so damn useless." I replied. Sloane took a half step back at my crass response, a flicker of pity crossing her face. "You're not totally useless." "Then prove it, just train me." "Lukas—" "What's the harm? You train every day anyway. Let me tag along. Worst case scenario, I embarrass myself and you get to laugh about it." She bit her lips slightly and creased her face, pondering on my offer. I'm so close to a yes I can feel it. [ORACLE FEED UPDATE] [Subject emotional state: Conflicted] [Interest level increasing] [Recommended action: Maintain pressure] "I'll make breakfast every morning for a week," I added. "You hate cooking." "I'll suffer through it." "You'll burn the kitchen down." "Then you can blast me through a wall. Win-win." The corner of her mouth twitched into a smile. "You're serious about this," she said. "Dead serious." "Why?" "Because I'm tired of watching from the sidelines," I said. "You're going to Halloran. You're going to become a top Hero. And I'm going to be... what? The guy who lives in Diane's house and has no future? Fuck that." === [A/N:] If you enjoyed this chapter, please consider adding this story to your library and leaving a vote. Your support helps me keep writing, release more chapters from my backlog, and speed up my updates. And if you have any thoughts, suggestions, or just want to share what you think about this chapter, feel free to drop me a message. I'd love to hear from you! See you in the next chapter! ☜(⌒▽⌒)☞ ... Her eyes widened slightly. I'd hit something. Some nerve I didn't know existed. "You really think I'm going to be a top Hero?" "Obviously." I shrugged. "You've got a Legendary rarity Aspect, early manifestation, nine years of training. You'd have to actively try to fail." "That's..." She looked away, cheeks going pink. "That's not how it works. Plenty of people with strong Aspects wash out." "You won't." "You don't know that." "I know you." The words came out before I could stop them. Lukas's memories supplied the conviction. "You don't quit. Ever. Even when you should. It's annoying as hell but it's also why you're going to make it." The pink spread down her neck. She tucked a strand of damp hair behind her ear, still not meeting my eyes. 25 percent. [ORACLE FEED UPDATE] [Subject emotional state: Flustered] [Vulnerability window detected] [Success probability increasing] "Fine," she said suddenly. "I'll train you. But I'm not going easy on you just because you're Unmarked. If you can't keep up, that's your problem." Victory. Sweet, unexpected victory. "Deal." "And you're making breakfast every morning for two weeks now. Not one." "Wait—" "Two weeks or no training." She crossed her arms, and the shirt rode up again. "Take it or leave it." I could argue. Should argue. Two weeks of cooking was going to kill me. But I needed this. Needed the access. Needed a reason to be close to her that didn't immediately scream suspicious creep behavior. "Fine. Two weeks." "Good." She stepped back into her room. "We start tomorrow. 6:30am. Meet me in the training room downstairs. If you're late, the deal's off." "There's a training room downstairs?" "Of course there is. Diane runs a Hero PR agency. You think she doesn't have facilities?" She paused in the doorway. "Wear something you can move in. And don't embarrass yourself too badly. I have a reputation to maintain." "Your reputation will be fine." "It better be." She started to close the door, then stopped. "And Lukas?" "Yeah?" "Thanks. For what you said. About me making it." The vulnerability in her voice caught me off guard. This wasn't the loud, aggressive Sloane from earlier. This was someone younger. Uncertain. Human underneath all that explosive power. "I meant it," I said. She nodded once and shut the door. I stood in the hallway, staring at the closed door, trying to process what just happened. [SCUMBAG SYSTEM: Congratulations! Quest conditions optimized. Subject trust increased. Physical proximity opportunities secured.] "I'm not doing this just for the quest," I muttered. [SCUMBAG SYSTEM: Your motivations are irrelevant to the outcome. Quest completion probability now estimated at 67%.] "Still not helping." I walked back to my room, mind racing. Training with Sloane meant regular contact. Close quarters. Sparring. Physical engagement that had a legitimate excuse attached to it. Which meant opportunities. Multiple opportunities. Across multiple days. I flopped back onto my bed, feeling better than I had since waking up in this body. "Okay system, real talk. What are my actual chances here?" [SCUMBAG SYSTEM: Of quest completion? 67% as stated. Of survival beyond the quest? 43%. Of successfully integrating into this household without arousing suspicion? 22%.] "Those are terrible odds." [SCUMBAG SYSTEM: You are an untrained civilian inhabiting the body of a trauma survivor in a world where superhuman abilities are normalized and regulated. Terrible odds are generous.] I laughed. Couldn't help it. The whole situation was so absurd it looped back around to funny. "What about becoming a Hero? Actual Hero. Licensed, ranked, the whole thing." [SCUMBAG SYSTEM: Current probability—insufficient data. Recommend completing tutorial phase before attempting advanced scenarios.] "Tutorial phase being the ass smacking quest?" [SCUMBAG SYSTEM: Correct.] "My life is a joke." [SCUMBAG SYSTEM: Your life is a calculated progression system designed to optimize growth through incremental challenges. That it resembles a joke is coincidental.] I closed my eyes, exhaustion hitting me all at once. Too much had happened in too short a time. Waking up in a new body. Meeting Sloane. Learning about the system. Accepting an impossible quest. Convincing Sloane to train me. And tomorrow I had to wake up at 5:30am and pretend I knew what I was doing. "Hey system?" [SCUMBAG SYSTEM: Query acknowledged.] "What happens if I actually fail the quest? Like worst case scenario, timer runs out, I haven't completed it." [SCUMBAG SYSTEM: Penalty enforcement is automatic and irreversible. Fifty percent reduction in specified anatomy. Physical modifications cannot be restored through System functions.] "So I'd be stuck like that." [SCUMBAG SYSTEM: Correct.] "Forever." [SCUMBAG SYSTEM: Correct.] "Great. No pressure then." [SCUMBAG SYSTEM: Pressure is the intended design. Motivational architecture functions optimally under constraint.] I opened my eyes, staring at that timer again. 35:12:08. Two days. I had two days to figure out how to complete a quest that should have been impossible, except now I had a training schedule with Sloane. Regular contact. Legitimate reasons to be close. "I can do this," I said to the empty room. "I'm smart. I'm adaptable. I've read enough light novels to know how progression systems work. This is just another challenge. But what happens after that?" [SCUMBAG SYSTEM: Additional quests will be provided as progression continues. Long-term objectives include Halloran Academy admission, Aspect ability acquisition, and heroine relationship development across multiple targets.] "Multiple targets." I processed that. "How many are we talking?" [SCUMBAG SYSTEM: Data insufficient. Heroine roster expands based on host interactions and story progression.] "So it's not just Sloane." [SCUMBAG SYSTEM: Correct. Current active heroines—two. Sloane Fitzgerald, Diane Fitzgerald. Additional heroines will be introduced as circumstances develop.] Diane. Right. Diane had a Temptation Gauge too. I'd seen it in the initial briefing. 8 percent. Ambient. Nothing active. "I don't think I can go there with Diane," I said firmly. "She took Lukas in. Gave him a home. I'm not repaying that by—" [SCUMBAG SYSTEM: Host autonomy is respected within quest parameters. No missions will force interactions with subjects you explicitly decline. However, declining heroine progression limits System Point generation and available Gacha pulls.] So I could refuse. But refusing meant slower progression. Fewer abilities. Staying weak longer. "We'll cross that bridge when we get there," I decided. "Right now, Sloane. Focus on Sloane." [SCUMBAG SYSTEM: Acknowledged. Primary target confirmed—Sloane Fitzgerald. Current progress—25%. Quest deadline—35:09:22.] === [A/N:] If you enjoyed this chapter, please consider adding this story to your library and leaving a vote. Your support helps me keep writing, release more chapters from my backlog, and speed up my updates. And if you have any thoughts, suggestions, or just want to share what you think about this chapter, feel free to drop me a message. I'd love to hear from you! See you in the next chapter! ☜(⌒▽⌒)☞ ... I spent the next few hours at my desk, laptop open, diving into this world's version of reality. The memories gave me context. The internet gave me the actual picture. I started with the basics. Hero rankings. Licensing requirements. The IHL Accord. All the institutional machinery that turned superpowers into a profession instead of chaos. The Hero Network had a public-facing website. Rankings updated quarterly. California alone had three hundred licensed Heroes across all ranks. Nationally? Over two thousand. That was just the ones who passed the exam and kept their license current. The top hundred got their own pages. Full profiles. Win rates. Case resolution stats. Public approval ratings that read like polling data for presidential candidates. I scrolled through the California rankings first. Recognized a few names from Lukas's memories. Stopped on number fourteen. Grande Dame. The profile photo showed a woman who understood exactly what she was selling. Jet black hair falling over one shoulder. Violet eyes that stared directly into the camera like she owned it. The costume was purple and gold, cut to emphasize curves that would make a mannequin weep with envy. Aspect: Paradigm Shift. Classification: Flux. Rarity: Epic. Size manipulation. She could go from eighteen inches to sixty-seven feet. The profile didn't mention the obvious tactical applications. It did mention her debut six months ago. I clicked the embedded video. The footage opened on a downtown street. Villain threat, some guy with a concrete manipulation Aspect tearing up the pavement. Standard property damage scenario. Three Heroes already on scene, struggling to contain him. Then Grande Dame arrived. She walked into frame at normal height, hips swaying in a way that made the camera operator forget their job for two full seconds. The concrete manipulator didn't even see her coming. She grew mid-stride. Twenty feet. Thirty. Forty. The growth didn't stop until she towered over the entire street, purple costume stretching with her, somehow maintaining perfect coverage at scale. The kick came next. She pivoted, leg sweeping out in an arc that probably registered on seismographs. The villain flew backwards into a wall hard enough to crater the brick. Combat over. Threat neutralized. And then she posed. One hand on her hip, the other brushing hair from her face, looking down at the cameras with a smile that said she knew exactly how good she looked doing this. The comment section was predictable. Half the posts were about her tactical performance. The other half were significantly less professional. "Damn," I muttered. "America's ass just got a new contender." The Oracle Feed stayed silent. Apparently it had no opinion on Grande Dame's posterior. I kept scrolling. Found the net worth estimates some financial blog had compiled for the top ten nationally ranked Heroes. Number ten clocked in at forty-two million. Endorsement deals, licensing fees, merchandise revenue. Being a top Hero wasn't just prestigious. It was obscenely profitable. The numbers climbed as the ranks descended. Number five: eighty-seven million. Number three: hundred and thirty million. Number two: Prominence. Two hundred and eighteen million. I clicked his profile. The photo showed a man built like a Greek statue come to life. Blonde hair, blue eyes, smile so perfect it looked photoshopped. The costume was white and gold with red accents, sun imagery everywhere. Aspect: Solar Flare. Classification: Channeler. Rarity: Legendary. Superheated plasma generation. Fire manipulation on a scale that made most other Channelers look like they were playing with matches. Based out of New York. Twelve years in the top ten. Never dropped below third place. Never made it to first. I scrolled to the top of the rankings. Number one. The number that every other Hero in the country measured themselves against. Radiant. Net worth: estimated over four hundred million, though the article noted his actual wealth was probably higher. Licensing deals alone put him in a different financial category. Add in government contracts, international consulting fees, and the fact that his face sold products in markets that had nothing to do with heroics, and the number became meaningless. He wasn't just rich. He was an institution. The profile photo showed a man who looked like propaganda made flesh. Seven feet tall even in the picture. Blonde hair swept back into those distinctive horn-like bangs. Blue eyes that somehow conveyed warmth and absolute confidence simultaneously. The smile was genuine. You could tell because fake smiles didn't reach the eyes like that. Costume: red, white, blue. Gold accents. Primary colors that screamed American iconography without being subtle about it. Aspect: Superpower. Classification: Flux. Rarity: Legendary+. The plus sign was unusual. Most Aspects topped out at Legendary. Whatever Superpower did, it exceeded standard classification. The description was vague. Physical enhancement. Durability. Strength on a scale that made standard metrics inadequate. He'd held the number one spot for over a decade. His approval rating hadn't dropped below ninety-eight percent in fifteen years. He was what every Hero candidate aspired to become. I noticed the video thumbnail below his profile. Purple link. Small text underneath. "You have visited this 47 times." The video quality was shaky. Phone camera footage from a civilian perspective. The timestamp put it at 11:43pm. The location tag said Eastside, Verano. Smoke filled the frame. Not just smoke. Fire. An entire apartment complex burning, flames pouring from windows on every floor. People screaming. The sound quality was terrible but the panic came through anyway. Heroes on the ground trying to coordinate. Trying to evacuate. Trying to contain whatever was happening inside. Then the camera panned up. Radiant descended from above like a meteor in reverse. He didn't fly. He fell with such control it looked like flying. The landing cratered the street, shockwave blowing out windows in adjacent buildings. He was already moving before the dust settled. The apartment entrance was an inferno. Radiant walked through it like the fire was theoretical. The camera lost sight of him for maybe fifteen seconds. When he emerged, he was carrying people. Four at once. Two over his shoulders, one under each arm. He set them down gently despite moving at speeds that should have made gentle impossible. Turned. Went back in. The pattern repeated. Out with survivors. Back in for more. The building was actively collapsing. Didn't matter. Radiant was faster than the collapse. His costume was burning in places. Small fires that he ignored completely. His skin showed no damage. The people he carried were unconscious or close to it, smoke inhalation and burns visible even through the terrible video quality. He brought them out anyway. Twenty-seven people total by the time the building finally came down. Twenty-seven lives pulled from a structure that should have been a tomb. And then he laughed. The sound carried across the street even through the phone's speaker. Not mocking laughter. Not cruel. Just genuine relief that bordered on joy. "Everyone's safe!" His voice boomed without seeming to shout. "The fire department will handle the rest. You're all safe now!" The crowd's response was immediate. Cheering. Crying. People who'd just watched their homes burn down cheering because Radiant had saved them. The video ended there. Four minutes, eighteen seconds. I sat back in my chair, staring at the frozen final frame. Radiant's smile filling the screen. Forty-seven times. Lukas had watched this forty-seven times. The Hero who saved everyone with a smile. "System," I said quietly. "How strong is Radiant actually?" The interface materialized. [SCUMBAG SYSTEM: Radiant's combat capabilities exceed standard measurement parameters. Estimated power level places him in the top 0.01% of all registered Aspect-users globally.] "That's not an answer." [SCUMBAG SYSTEM: Radiant has never been observed operating at full capacity. Current projections suggest his maximum output remains undocumented.] "So he's holding back. Always." [SCUMBAG SYSTEM: Correct. Public safety regulations and collateral damage concerns limit his operational ceiling.] I clicked back to the profile. Scrolled through his case history. Disaster response, S-class villain containment, international crisis intervention. The man didn't just operate in California. He showed up wherever the worst situations developed. And he always arrived in time. "What happens if I meet him?" I asked. " [SCUMBAG SYSTEM: Insufficient data for meaningful projection. Radiant maintains professional distance from academy students. Direct interaction probability remains low until host achieves significant ranking.] "But it's possible." [SCUMBAG SYSTEM: All outcomes are possible given sufficient progression.] I closed the laptop. Leaned back. Processed. Radiant was the ceiling. The absolute peak of what this profession could produce. Four hundred million dollars. Universal approval. Power that redefined what Aspects could accomplish. And I was sitting in a bedroom with baseline ten stats across the board, an Unmarked registration, and a system that wanted me to smack my pseudo-sister's ass for my first quest reward. The gap was so massive it was almost funny. "I'm going to Halloran," I said to the empty room. "I'm going to pass the entrance exam. I'm going to become a licensed Hero. And eventually, I'm going to stand in the same room as Radiant without feeling like a fucking insect." [SCUMBAG SYSTEM: Ambition acknowledged. Current probability of scenario completion—1.2%.] "I'll take those odds." [SCUMBAG SYSTEM: Your optimism is noted.]