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.]

===

[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 opened the laptop again. Started searching for Halloran Academy entrance requirements. The exam format. Pass rates. What they actually tested.

Aspect control and output. Combat capability. Crisis response. Hero law knowledge. Public communication skills.

Everything designed to filter candidates who could handle the profession from candidates who would get themselves or others killed trying.

The Unmarked pass rate was point-seven percent. Seven people out of a thousand. Most of them had money, connections, or both. Political leverage that made institutions overlook the statistical liability.

I had Diane Fitzgerald. That counted for something. Her agency had placed Heroes in the top fifty. She knew how the system worked from both sides.

But it wouldn't be enough. Not if I showed up as baseline human with no Aspect and no exceptional skills.

The system was my edge. The Gacha could give me abilities that scans wouldn't detect. Oracle Feed gave me information advantages. The quest structure forced progression whether I wanted it or not.

I just had to complete quests. Raise Temptation Gauges. Accumulate System Points. Pull abilities.

Sloane: Training starts 6:30am. Don't be late. Bring water.

Me: I'll be there. Thanks for doing this.

Three dots appeared. Disappeared. Appeared again.

Sloane: Don't thank me yet. You're going to regret asking for this.

Me: Probably. Still worth it.

The dots bounced for a full ten seconds before her response came through.

Sloane: Get some sleep tonight. You'll need it.

I set the phone down. Checked the quest timer.

26:47:12.

Thirty-nine hours until deadline. One training session scheduled. Multiple opportunities to make physical contact in a context that wouldn't immediately trigger suspicion.

"I can work with this," I said.

[SCUMBAG SYSTEM: Recommended approach—establish physical training routine that normalizes contact. Utilize correction techniques requiring touch. Build familiarity through repetition before attempting quest completion.]

"You're suggesting I actually learn something."

[SCUMBAG SYSTEM: Secondary benefits do not invalidate primary objectives. Acquiring combat skills increases survival probability across all scenarios.]

Fair point. I was baseline human in a world of superpowers. Knowing how to fight, even badly, beat not knowing at all.

I pulled up another search. Hero combat styles. Training methodologies for Unmarked individuals attempting the licensing exam.

Most of the results were depressing. Articles explaining why it was statistically inadvisable. Forums full of failed candidates sharing stories about how the gap couldn't be overcome through effort alone.

One thread caught my attention. Posted three years ago by someone with the username AspectlessWonder.

"Passed the exam on my fourth attempt. Yes, fourth. Here's what nobody tells you about being Unmarked in a Hero academy—you can't win fair fights. Stop trying. Learn to cheat better than people with powers. Environment is your Aspect. Information is your Aspect. Surprise is your Aspect. Everything else is cope."

The post had forty-seven replies. Most dismissive. A few genuinely interested.

I kept reading.

"They test you against Aspect-users in the practical exam. You will be outmatched. Accept this. Your job isn't to win. It's to demonstrate you understand combat well enough to not die immediately. Show them you can read a situation. Show them you can adapt. Show them you're not a liability waiting to happen."

"I passed by fighting dirty and surviving longer than they expected. Traps. Ambush tactics. Using their Aspect against them when possible. The proctors don't care if you win pretty. They care if you win at all."

The username checked out. AspectlessWonder had posted their Hero registration six months after the thread. Rank C. Operating out of Oregon. Still active as of last month.

So it was possible. Unlikely. Improbable. But possible.

I bookmarked the thread. Kept searching.

The common thread: knowledge and execution. You needed to know what you were doing and do it without hesitation.

I could learn that. I had time. Three months until the exam. Ninety days to go from baseline to competent enough that Halloran couldn't justify rejecting me.

Ninety days to build a Gacha loadout that gave me actual combat capability.

Ninety days to raise Sloane's Temptation Gauge high enough that the System Points kept flowing.

My stomach turned at that last thought. Using her feelings for progression rewards. Manipulating someone who'd known Lukas since childhood.

"Is there any other way to get System Points?" I asked.

[SCUMBAG SYSTEM: Alternative acquisition methods exist but remain locked until host completes tutorial phase. Primary currency generation requires heroine progression.]

"Define tutorial phase."

[SCUMBAG SYSTEM: Successfully complete five main quests. Achieve 40% Temptation threshold with at least one heroine. Pass Halloran Academy entrance examination.]

So I was stuck with this method until I proved I could actually use the system.

I closed the laptop and stood up. The room felt smaller than it had that morning. Claustrophobic in a way that had nothing to do with physical space.

Tomorrow I'd train with Sloane. Learn what my body could actually do. Start building the foundation.

Tonight I'd sleep. Or try to. Hard to sleep when a timer counted down in the corner of your vision reminding you that failure meant permanent anatomical modification.

I set my an alarm for 6:00am. That gave me thirty minutes to wake up, get dressed, and make it downstairs before Sloane decided I wasn't serious.

Crawled into bed. Stared at the ceiling.

The house was quiet. Diane still wasn't home. Sloane was probably already asleep, getting her rest before she made me regret every life choice that led to asking for training.

And I was here. Transmigrant in a dead kid's body. Equipped with a system that wanted me to seduce women for power. Preparing to infiltrate the most prestigious Hero academy in the world despite having no natural abilities.

"This is insane," I said to the darkness.

[SCUMBAG SYSTEM: Insanity implies lack of method. Your situation is methodical. Simply unconventional.]

"That's not comforting."

[SCUMBAG SYSTEM: Comfort is not a design priority.]

I laughed. Couldn't help it. The system's complete indifference to my distress was almost refreshing.

Sleep came eventually, interrupted by dreams of burning buildings and Heroes I'd never met.

And underneath it all, a timer counting down.

===

[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!

☜(⌒▽⌒)☞

...

When my alarm went off at 6:00 AM, I seriously considered the consequences of just letting the system cut my dick in half.

How bad could it be? People lived with less. Maybe it would grow back. The system hadn't specified which fifty percent would go — length? Girth? Some creative diagonal slice?

I dragged myself out of bed. Put on basketball shorts and a t-shirt the original Lukas had worn for gym class. Got my ass downstairs by 6:15.

And there I was, standing at the doorway of a home gym that could have passed for a small commercial facility, watching Sloane Fitzgerald bent over in a sports bra and leggings, stretching her hamstrings with her ass pointed directly at me.

The universe was testing me.

〘Target position optimal for quest completion. Proceeding now yields 94% success probability.〙

"Shut up," I muttered under my breath.

The quest timer read 15:32:40 in bright red. That was it — the perfect chance. She was distracted. Her back was turned. I could have crossed the room in five quick steps, delivered the required contact, and been done with the whole stupid mission.

My heart pounded as I took a tentative step forward. Then another. I was halfway across the room, moving like I was approaching a bomb.

〘Host hesitation detected. Reminder: consequences of mission failure are permanent and irreversible.〙

Right. Because I needed the reminder.

I took another step. The floor creaked.

Sloane stood up and turned around in one smooth motion. She didn't look surprised to see me.

"Great, you're early. Let me stretch you out before you start."

Fuck.

"Nah, I'm loose enough already." I hopped from foot to foot, shaking my arms like I'd been warming up for hours. "Let's start."

Sloane frowned. "Dumbass. Don't blame me if you pull something."

The gym was bigger than my entire college apartment had been. Back in the other life. Free weights along one wall. Training mats covering half the floor. A punching bag in the corner, looking distinctly less worn than everything else.

Sloane walked over to it, tapped it with her knuckles. "Try to punch this, I guess."

"Wow, you're the best teacher ever, Sloane!"

"WELL I DON'T KNOW HOW TO TEACH!" Her volume jumped like someone had cranked a dial. "WHAT I DO WON'T WORK FOR YOU!"

"How do you even know that?" I asked. "You have to know how to punch or kick or something, right? The basics?"

Her lips pressed into a thin line. "Fine."

She stomped over to a cabinet, pulled out hand wraps, and tossed them at my face. I caught them before they hit me.

"Put these on. Then punch this." She pointed at the bag.

I looked at the wraps. "I don't want to hurt you."

Sloane burst into laughter. Not a giggle. Not a chuckle. Full-blown, doubled-over laughter that made her pink ponytail bounce.

"You? Hurt me?" She wiped her eye. "Fine, I didn't warn you."

I wrapped my hands the way Jake from boxing club had shown me. Loop around the wrist. Between the fingers. Around the knuckles. Tight but not cutting circulation.

Sloane watched with a blank expression. "You taking this serious or what?"

"Yeah. I am."

Something in my tone made her eyebrows lift slightly. Good. I was tired of being dismissed.

I squared up to the bag. Planted my feet. Turned my hips into it like Jake taught me.

The punch landed with a satisfying thud. Not powerful, but clean.

〘Physical Analysis: Form acceptable. Power output 26% of average Halloran applicant.〙

"Not terrible," Sloane said, arms crossed. "Do it again."

I threw another punch. Same form. Same result.

"Again."

I punched the bag ten more times. My form slipped on the eighth. Sloane caught it immediately.

"Elbow dropped. Reset."

I fixed my stance. Kept going. My knuckles started to burn through the wraps.

〘Physical conditioning recommended. Current stamina insufficient for combat applications.〙

Thanks for the insight, Captain Obvious.

"Let's try something else," Sloane said after my twentieth punch. "You're not going to win fights by punching things."

"So what's the alternative? Run away?"

She narrowed her eyes. "You joke, but yes. Sometimes. Knowing when to retreat is a skill most Heroes never learn."

That was actually decent advice.

"So what are you going to teach me? How to run away with style?"

"I'm going to teach you how to not get hit." She moved to the centre of the training mat. "Come at me."

I blinked. "What?"

"Attack me. However you want."

"You want me to hit you."

"I want you to try."

I was suddenly aware this was a trap. Sloane had an Aspect called Detonation. She could literally make things explode on contact.

But the quest timer kept ticking down. If I could manufacture a reason to make contact during sparring...

I stepped onto the mat. Circled her cautiously. She watched me like a cat tracking a particularly stupid mouse.

"Any day now," she said.

I lunged forward with a straight punch. No telegraph. Nothing pulled.

Sloane shifted her weight two inches to the left. My punch went past her face. Before I could recover, her palm tapped my ribs.

"Dead," she said. "Again."

I reset. Came at her with a combination. Jab, cross, hook.

She slipped all three without moving her feet. Tapped my throat with two fingers.

"Dead again."

That continued for ten minutes. Me attacking. Her avoiding everything with minimal movement. Tapping parts of my body to indicate fatal strikes.

I got nowhere near her. Not even close. The quest timer mocked me from the corner of my vision.

〘Quest completion probability decreased to 42%. Alternative strategy required.〙

"You're overthinking," Sloane said. "Stop trying to set up the perfect attack. Just move."

I wiped sweat from my forehead. "Easy for you to say. You've been training for nine years."

"And you've been doing nothing for nine years."

That stung. Mostly because it was true. The original Lukas had wasted his life feeling sorry for himself.

"Okay, teacher. Show me how it's done." I made a come-here gesture. "Attack me."

Sloane laughed. "You sure about that?"

"I need to see what I'm aiming for."

She shrugged. "Your funeral."

I braced myself. Squared my stance. Prepared for —

I was on my back. Staring at the ceiling. Sloane standing over me. I hadn't even seen her move.

"What the —"

"First lesson," she said. "Never assume you can track someone faster than you."

===

[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!

☜(⌒▽⌒)☞

...

She offered her hand. I took it. Her palm was warm and callused.

〘Physical contact established. Temptation Gauge +1%. Current level: 26%.〙

She pulled me up with enough force that I stumbled forward. Almost crashed into her. Stopped myself with my hand on her shoulder.

〘Physical contact maintained. Temptation Gauge stable. Subject comfort threshold maintained.〙

"Sorry," I muttered.

"For what? Being slow?" She smirked. But she didn't move away from my hand.

Heat crept up my neck. "For assuming I could track you."

She stepped back. My hand fell away from her shoulder.

"At least you learn quick," she said. "Let's try something else."

For the next hour, Sloane ran me through basic defensive postures. How to protect my head. How to absorb impacts I couldn't avoid. How to fall without breaking anything important.

I was drenched in sweat. My muscles burned. But I was learning. Actually learning.

〘📋 SIDE QUEST UNLOCKED

Quest: No Pain, No Gain

Description: The host body is a disgrace. Its physical parameters are below the acceptable baseline for a protagonist. Fortunately, an opportunity for state-sanctioned improvement has presented itself. Do not waste it.

Objective: Complete ten (10) training sessions with Heroine Candidate Sloane Fitzgerald.

A 'session' is defined as a minimum of 60 minutes of continuous, good-faith physical training.

Time Limit: 30 Days

Rewards:

One (1) Random Skill Pull Ticket (Guaranteed Rarity: E ~ B)

+10 Stat Points

System Note:

Progress is its own reward. But a tangible incentive has a documented history of improving compliance. Consider this an investment in your future utility.〙

Well, that was convenient. Almost like the system was finally working with me instead of against me.

"Let's take a break," Sloane said. She tossed me a water bottle from a mini-fridge I hadn't noticed.

I caught it one-handed. Small victory.

She grabbed her own bottle and drank half of it in one go. Water spilled down her chin, dripped onto her chest. Her sports bra was dark with sweat, clinging to curves that—

Stop staring, idiot.

〘Target susceptibility increased during physical exertion. Quest completion probability rises to 58% if attempted within next 5 minutes.〙

Sloane caught me looking. Wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "What?"

"Nothing," I said. "Just surprised you're taking this seriously."

She frowned. "I said I would, didn't I?"

"Yeah, but..." I hesitated. "You were pretty clear about how pointless this is."

Sloane sat down on a weight bench. Patted the spot next to her. I joined her, keeping a careful distance.

"Look," she said. "You're Unmarked. That's a fact. But..."

She trailed off. Stared at her water bottle like it held answers.

"But what?"

"But I respect that you're trying," she said finally. "Most people would just accept it and move on with their lives. Find a normal job. Be a normal person."

"I'm not most people."

She snorted. "Clearly."

We sat in silence for a moment. The quest timer continued its countdown. 14:47:22.

"Can I ask you something?" I said.

"You just did."

"Ha ha. Seriously though."

She shrugged. "Go ahead."

"Why do you care if I apply to Halloran? It doesn't affect you either way."

Sloane went very still. Her knuckles whitened around the water bottle.

"Because you'll get hurt," she said quietly.

"People get hurt all the time."

"Not like this." She turned to face me. Her blue eyes were intense. "The exam isn't just hard, Lukas. It's designed to break people who shouldn't be there."

"You think I shouldn't be there."

"I think you're Unmarked in a world that wasn't built for you." She looked away. "And I think watching you get hurt trying to be something you're not would be..."

She didn't finish the sentence. Didn't need to.

〘Temptation Gauge +2%. Current level: 28%. Subject experiencing protective instinct conflict.〙

The moment stretched between us. I could have reached over right then. Put my arm around her shoulders. Pulled her close. The quest would have been done in seconds.

It would also have been the douchiest thing I'd ever done.

I stood up. "Let's keep training."

Sloane looked up at me. Something unreadable crossed her face.

"Right," she said. "Break's over."

We moved back to the mat. Sloane adjusted my stance. Her hands on my shoulders. My elbows. My wrists.

〘Physical contact increasing subject comfort threshold. Temptation Gauge +1%. Current level: 29%.〙

"You're too stiff," she said. "Loosen up."

"I'm trying."

She moved behind me. Put her hands on my hips. Turned them slightly.

"Power comes from rotation, not just pushing forward." Her voice was close to my ear. "Feel the difference?"

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. Her chest was pressed against my back. Her hands still on my hips.

Sloane stepped back. "Try the combination again."

I threw the punches. Jab, cross, hook. They felt better. Smoother.

"Good," she said. "Again."

We drilled the combination twenty more times. My arms felt like lead. Sweat dripped into my eyes.

〘Endurance +1. Current value: 11.〙

"Last one," Sloane said. "Put everything into it."

I summoned what little energy I had left. Threw the combination with everything I had.

The last hook sent me off-balance. I stumbled to the side.

Sloane caught me by the arm. Steadied me.

"Careful," she said. "Don't hurt yourself."

Our eyes met. She was still holding my arm. Her face was flushed from exertion. Pink hair plastered to her forehead with sweat.

〘Quest completion probability: 92%.〙

I could have done it right then. Ended the ridiculous mission. Saved myself from anatomical disaster.

But I couldn't. Not like that.

"Thanks," I said, pulling my arm away gently. "I think I'm done for today."

Sloane nodded. "Not bad for a first session. You didn't cry or throw up."

"Setting the bar real high there."

"For an Unmarked? Yeah, actually." She grabbed a towel, tossed it to me. "Same time tomorrow?"

The quest timer read 14:22:15. I didn't have until tomorrow.

"Maybe we could train again tonight?" I suggested. "After dinner?"

Sloane raised an eyebrow. "Eager much?"

"Just making the most of your generosity before you come to your senses."

She laughed. "Fine. Eight o'clock. Don't be late."

I nodded. "I'll be here."

Sloane headed for the door, then paused. "Hey, Lukas?"

"Yeah?"

"This was... nice." She didn't look at me when she said it. "Training someone. It's different."

Before I could respond, she was gone. The door swung shut behind her.

I collapsed onto the mat. Every muscle screaming. Two training sessions with Sloane. One quest with an impossible deadline. And a steadily increasing Temptation Gauge that made me feel like the world's biggest asshole.

〘Host experiencing moral hesitation. Reminder: quest failure consequences are permanent.〙

"I know," I said to the empty room. "I fucking know."

I checked the quest timer again. 14:21:04.

I had until tonight to figure it out. One more training session. One more chance.

Or I lost half my manhood to a system that didn't care about my ethical dilemmas.

I laughed bitterly. This wasn't even close to what I'd expected when I woke up in someone else's body.

〘Suggestion: focus on mission parameters. Moral considerations are secondary to survival.〙

"Easy for you to say." I stood up slowly. My legs wobbled. "You're not the one who has to live with the consequences."

〘Incorrect. System functionality is directly tied to host status. Your failure impacts operational parameters.〙

"So you're saying we're in this together? How heartwarming."

〘Sarcasm noted. Ineffective as problem-solving mechanism.〙

I grabbed my towel and water bottle. Headed for the door. Tonight's session was my last chance. I needed a plan that didn't make me feel like complete garbage.

The quest timer continued its merciless countdown.

14:18:22.

14:18:21.

14:18:20.

===

[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!

☜(⌒▽⌒)☞

...

The shower water hit hot enough to hurt. I stood under the spray and let it beat the sweat off me. Every muscle in my body screamed about the training session. My shoulders ached. My legs felt like they were made of jelly.

Worth it though. Two more stat points. A new side quest that actually made sense. And Sloane's Temptation Gauge climbing without me having to do anything creepy.

Well. Mostly without doing anything creepy.

I soaped up and rinsed off, trying not to think about the quest timer still counting down in my vision. Twelve hours and forty-three minutes. Plenty of time. I'd figure something out during tonight's session.

The hot water ran out faster than I expected. I finished up and grabbed a towel, drying off while condensation fogged up the mirror. My reflection appeared in patches through the steam. Still strange seeing this face instead of my own. Sharp cheekbones. Amber eyes. The scar through my left eyebrow.

I threw on clean clothes. Dark joggers and a grey t-shirt. My standard hoodie stayed on the bed. Too hot for that right now.

Downstairs, I headed straight for the kitchen. My stomach growled loud enough to echo off the marble countertops. Training burned calories like crazy. I needed food. Lots of it.

The fridge was packed. I grabbed what I needed for a protein shake. Milk, banana, peanut butter, protein powder. Tossed it all in the blender and hit the button.

The Oracle Feed lit up.

〘Target approaching from upstairs. ETA: 47 seconds. Subject status: relaxed, recently showered, wearing minimal clothing.〙

I ignored it. Poured the shake into a glass and took a long drink. Tasted like chocolate peanut butter. Not bad.

The living room called to me. There was a massive TV mounted on the wall, easily seventy inches. I hadn't watched TV in this world yet. Didn't even know what shows existed here.

I settled onto the couch with my shake and grabbed the remote. The TV flickered to life. I scrolled through the streaming apps until I found something that looked interesting.

Movie thumbnails flashed past. Action films, comedies, dramas. One caught my eye. The poster showed a guy behind the wheel of a sports car, sunglasses on, city lights blurred in the background. Title read "Drift King."

Close enough to Baby Driver. I clicked play.

The opening sequence started. Synth music pumped through the surround sound. The driver tapped his fingers on the steering wheel in time with the beat. The camera panned across his face. He was waiting for something.

A bank heist crew piled into the car. The driver didn't speak. Just nodded and turned up the music.

The heist went down. The crew ran out with bags of cash. Sirens wailed in the distance. The driver peeled out before everyone was even inside.

What followed was five minutes of the most insane driving I'd ever seen on screen. The car slid through traffic like water. Drifted around corners at impossible angles. The music never stopped, never broke rhythm. Every movement synced to the beat.

I leaned forward. This was good. Really good.

Footsteps sounded behind me.

"What are you watching?"

I didn't turn around. "Movie."

Sloane walked into view. She stood directly between me and the TV. Her pink hair was damp from her own shower. She was wearing an oversized band t-shirt that hung past her hips. I couldn't tell if she was wearing shorts underneath. The shirt was long enough that it didn't matter.

Except it did matter. Because now I was looking. And trying not to look. And definitely looking.

"Can you move?" I asked.

She leaned to the left. I leaned right to see past her.

She shifted right. Blocked my view again.

"Seriously?"

"Can I help you?" she asked. The picture of innocent confusion.

"Yeah. Move."

"Aren't you forgetting something?"

I racked my brain. Showered. Brushed my teeth. Cleaned up the bathroom. Even put the wet towels in the hamper like a civilised human being.

"Hm? Nah. I brushed my teeth and cleaned my room and the bathroom."

Sloane's eyes narrowed. "What did you forget?"

Oh shit.

"Breakfast," she said slowly. "For two weeks. Chop chop."

I blinked. "Right now?"

"Yes, right now. I want french toast and eggs and orange juice and turkey bacon."

"You being deadass?"

"Yes I'm being deadass, dumbass. Now get up and make me my breakfast like a good boy."

The words hit different coming out of her mouth. My brain short-circuited for a second. I looked her up and down without thinking about it.

"The fuck?"

Smoke curled from her hands. Literal smoke. The air around her fingers shimmered with heat.

I stood up fast. Saluted on reflex. "Yes ma'am. Right away ma'am."

When someone could beat your ass, you chose your battles.

Sloane's hands stopped smoking. She smirked. "That's what I thought."

She dropped onto the couch in the spot I'd just vacated. Picked up my protein shake and took a sip without asking. Made a face.

"This tastes like chalk."

"Then don't drink it."

"Too late. Already contaminated with my germs." She took another sip just to prove her point.

I headed back to the kitchen. The movie played behind me. Car sounds and synth music filled the living room.

French toast. Eggs. Orange juice. Turkey bacon. Got it.

I pulled ingredients from the fridge. Bread, eggs, milk, cinnamon. The bacon was in the meat drawer. Orange juice in the door.

Cooking was one of the skills that transferred clean from my old life. Muscle memory worked the same regardless of which body I was in. I cracked eggs into a bowl. Added milk and cinnamon. Whisked it together.

The griddle heated up on the stove. I buttered it and dipped the first slice of bread.

〘Domestic capability demonstration increases subject comfort. Temptation Gauge +1%. Current level: 30%.〙

I flipped the french toast. Golden brown on both sides. Perfect.

The bacon went into a separate pan. It sizzled and popped. Smelled incredible.

"Smells good," Sloane called from the couch.

"Don't get used to it."

"Two weeks, remember? I'm getting very used to it."

I plated the first batch of french toast. Started on the eggs. Scrambled, since she didn't specify. Easier that way.

The bacon finished. I drained it on paper towels and started the second round of french toast.

Ten minutes later, I walked into the living room with a full plate. French toast stacked three high. Scrambled eggs on the side. Bacon arranged neatly. Orange juice in a glass.

Sloane looked up. Her eyes widened.

"Holy shit."

"What?"

"This looks professional."

I shrugged. "It's breakfast."

She took the plate. Balanced it on her lap. Cut into the french toast with the side of her fork.

The first bite went in. Her eyes closed.

"Oh my god."

"It's just french toast."

"No. This is actual restaurant quality french toast." She took another bite. "Where did you learn to cook like this?"

Good question. One I didn't have a clean answer for.

"Just picked it up over the years."

She didn't look convinced but didn't push. Too busy eating.

I sat on the opposite end of the couch. Picked up the remote. The movie was still playing but I'd lost the thread of the plot.

Sloane demolished the food faster than I expected. She ate like someone who'd just finished a hard workout and needed fuel. No small bites. No pretence.

She drained the orange juice in three long swallows. Set the empty plate on the coffee table.

"That was amazing."

"Glad you liked it."

"Liked it? I'm upgrading the deal. You're making all my meals for two weeks."

"That wasn't the agreement."

"New agreement. Better agreement."

I gave her a flat look. "What do I get out of this?"

She thought for a second. "Extended training sessions?"

"I already asked for a second session today."

"Fine. Three sessions a day instead of two."

That was actually useful. More training meant more chances to complete the quest. More opportunities to build stats. Better progress on the side quest.

"Deal," I said.

===

[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!

☜(⌒▽⌒)☞

...

We shook on it. Her hand was still warm from holding the plate.

〘Physical contact registered. Temptation Gauge stable.〙

She leaned back into the couch. Pulled her legs up under her. The shirt rode up slightly. Definitely wearing shorts underneath. Black and short enough to qualify as underwear.

Don't stare. Don't be that guy.

I forced my eyes back to the TV. The driver was in another chase sequence. This time the cops were gaining on him.

"This movie is pretty good," Sloane said.

"Yeah."

She shifted closer to get a better view of the screen.

We watched in silence for a while. The driver pulled off an impossible drift through an alley. The cop cars crashed trying to follow.

Sloane laughed. "No way that's possible."

"It's a movie. Physics are optional."

"Still. The car would flip."

"You're thinking too hard about it."

She elbowed me in the ribs. Not hard enough to hurt. Just enough to be annoying.

I elbowed her back. Gentle. Playful.

She went still. Looked at me with an unreadable expression.

"What?"

"Nothing." She turned back to the TV. "You're just being weird today."

"How am I being weird?"

"I don't know. Different. More..." She trailed off.

"More what?"

"Present. Like you were actually here instead of just existing in the same space."

That hit deeper than it should have. She was right. The original Lukas was quiet. Withdrawn. Spent most of his time in his room or at the library. Didn't engage much with the household.

I wasn't him. Couldn't be him. And apparently Sloane noticed.

"Is that a bad thing?" I asked.

She shook her head. "No. It's just different."

We fell back into silence. The movie played out. The driver got caught eventually but escaped during the transfer. Drove off into the sunset with the girl he fell for during the heist planning.

Credits rolled.

"Want to watch another one?" Sloane asked.

I checked the quest timer. Eleven hours and seventeen minutes.

"Can't. Got some stuff to take care of."

"What stuff?"

"Research. Halloran prep."

Her expression shifted. The playful energy drained away.

"You're really doing this."

"Yeah."

"Even though it's stupid and dangerous and you're going to get hurt."

"Even though."

She stood up abruptly. Grabbed her empty plate.

"Fine. Do whatever you want. Not my problem."

She stormed into the kitchen. The plate clattered into the sink louder than necessary.

〘Warning: Subject emotional state destabilising. Temptation Gauge decrease risk elevated.〙

I followed her into the kitchen. She was standing at the sink with her back to me. Her shoulders were tense.

"Sloane."

"What?"

"I'm not trying to piss you off."

"Could've fooled me."

"I mean it. I know you think this is a bad idea but I have to try."

She spun around. "Why? What's the point? You're Unmarked, Lukas. Halloran doesn't want you. The Hero system doesn't want you. Why force it?"

"Because I'm tired of being useless."

"You're not useless."

"Yes, I am. I've been living off Diane's charity for nine years. Taking up space. Contributing nothing."

"That's not true."

"It is. And you know it." I took a step closer. "I need to do this. For me. Not for my parents. Not for anyone else. For me."

Sloane's hands curled into fists at her sides. Her eyes were bright. Angry or hurt or both.

"And when you fail the exam? When you get rejected in front of everyone? What then?"

"Then I try again."

"There is no trying again. Halloran entrance is once a year. You get one shot."

"Then I better make it count."

She stared at me. Searching for something in my face.

"You're serious."

"Completely."

"You're an idiot."

"Probably."

She shook her head. Wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand.

"Fine. If you're going to be stupid about this, then I'm training you properly. No more going easy."

"You were going easy?"

"Yes, dumbass. That was me being nice." She stepped forward. Poked me in the chest. "Starting tonight, you're getting the real training. The kind that makes people quit."

"I'm not going to quit."

"We'll see."

She pushed past me. Headed for the stairs.

"Eight o'clock," she called over her shoulder. "Don't be late."

Then she was gone. The sound of her door closing echoed through the house.

I stood alone in the kitchen. The sink dripped. The refrigerator hummed.

〘Temptation Gauge update: 31%. Subject emotional investment increasing. Recommended strategy: continue current approach. Sincerity reads as vulnerability to target demographic.〙

"Shut up," I muttered.

I headed back upstairs to my room. Needed to do more research. Figure out what skills I should prioritise. What Gacha pulls would be most useful.

The quest timer glowed in my vision. Ten hours and fifty-two minutes.

Tonight's training session was my last real shot at completing this without being creepy about it. I needed a plan that didn't make me hate myself.

I opened my laptop and started searching. Combat skills for Unmarked Heroes. Successful Halloran applicants without Aspects. Training regimens that didn't require powers.

The more I read, the clearer it became. Speed and timing. Those were the advantages I could develop. Not strength or durability. Those required either genetics or an Aspect.

But speed came from technique. Timing came from pattern recognition. Both things I could learn if I focused.

The Oracle Feed might give me an edge there. Real-time analysis. Threat assessment. Movement prediction.

I spent the next few hours diving deep into combat theory. By the time I looked up, the sun was lower in the sky. The quest timer read seven hours and nine minutes.

My stomach growled. I never made breakfast for myself. Just Sloane.

I headed back downstairs. Made myself a sandwich. Turkey and swiss on wheat. Simple.

Sloane's door was closed. Music played faintly from behind it. Something with heavy drums and aggressive vocals.

I ate standing at the counter. Thought about tonight's training. What Sloane meant by "real training."

One hour and seventeen minutes until training. Just under three hours until quest failure.

I finished my sandwich. Cleaned up. Headed back to my room to change into workout gear.

The quest timer counted down. Relentless. Unforgiving.

This was fine. Everything was fine. I had a plan.

Sort of.

〘Confidence levels detected: 34%. Survival probability unchanged.〙

"Thanks for the vote of confidence."

〘Confidence is not required for success. Only execution.〙

I grabbed my water bottle. Headed for the stairs. Seven fifty-nine.

Sloane's door opened. She stepped out in training clothes. Black leggings. Sports bra. Hair tied back tight.

"Ready?" she asked.

No. Not even a little bit.

"Yeah," I said. "Let's do this."

===

[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!

☜(⌒▽⌒)☞

...

Sloane Fitzgerald knew exactly how this was going to play out.

Lukas would try his best. He'd put up a decent effort for someone with baseline human stats. Then she'd break him. Not permanently. Just enough to make him realize how stupid this whole thing was.

He stood across from her on the training mat, rolling his shoulders back. The motion looked stiff. Amateur.

"We're sparring," Sloane said. "Real sparring. Not the light stuff from this morning."

Lukas's expression shifted. His jaw tightened. "Okay."

"I'm going all out."

"I got it."

"No, I don't think you do." She bounced on the balls of her feet. "This isn't tag anymore. You're going to get hit. Hard."

"I know."

God, he was so stubborn. Nine years living together and she'd never seen him this insistent about anything. The old Lukas would've backed down by now. Would've made an excuse and disappeared to his room.

This version kept standing there with that calm expression like he actually thought he had a chance.

It pissed her off.

She moved.

Her fist caught him in the ribs before he could raise his guard. The impact sent him stumbling sideways. He recovered faster than expected, pivoting to face her again.

Sloane didn't give him time to reset. She closed the distance and swept his legs. He went down hard, back hitting the mat with a thud that echoed through the gym.

"Get up."

Lukas pushed himself to his feet. Breathing steady. No complaints.

Fine. She'd hit him harder.

The next punch targeted his shoulder. He tried to dodge but wasn't fast enough. The force spun him halfway around. She followed with a strike to his lower back that dropped him to one knee.

"Stay down," Sloane said.

He stood up anyway.

Her heart did something weird in her chest. A quick double beat that felt uncomfortable and wrong and she shoved it away because this wasn't about feelings. This was about making him quit before he got himself killed trying to attend Halloran.

Because if Lukas died in some stupid entrance exam incident, people would talk. They'd blame her for not stopping him. They'd say she let her housemate walk into a situation he couldn't handle. That kind of reputation damage would follow her through her entire career.

And beyond that, if Lukas died, she'd have to live with knowing she could've prevented it.

Which was unacceptable.

"You're too slow," Sloane said. She circled him. "Your guard drops every time you move. You telegraph every punch three seconds before you throw it."

"Thanks for the notes." Lukas raised his fists again. Blood dripped from his split lip.

When did she split his lip?

Doesn't matter. Focus.

Sloane attacked again. This time Lukas managed to block the first strike. Pride flashed across his face for half a second before her second punch slipped through and caught him in the stomach. Air rushed out of his lungs. He doubled over, gasping.

She kicked his legs out from under him.

He hit the mat face first.

"Stay. Down."

Lukas braced his hands against the mat. Pushed up to his knees. Then his feet.

That weird feeling in her chest happened again. Faster this time. Like her heart was trying to punch its way out of her ribs.

This idiot. This absolute moron. He couldn't win. The gap between them wasn't something effort could close. She had eleven years of training, a Legendary Aspect, and genetics that gave her every advantage.

He had nothing.

And he kept getting up.

"What's wrong with you?" The words came out louder than intended. "You can't beat me. You can't beat anyone at Halloran. You're going to die."

"Probably." Lukas wiped blood from his mouth. "Still trying."

Sloane's hands heated without permission. Small sparks popped along her knuckles. She forced them down.

"Why? What's the point of trying when you know you'll fail?"

"Because failing after trying is better than never trying at all."

"That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard."

"Yeah, well." He smiled. Blood on his teeth. "I'm full of dumb ideas today."

She hit him again. Harder. The punch landed clean on his jaw. His head snapped sideways. He staggered three steps before his legs gave out.

Down. Finally.

Sloane stood over him, breathing hard despite barely exerting herself. "Stay down this time. Please."

Lukas rolled onto his back. Stared at the ceiling. His chest rose and fell in uneven rhythm.

Good. He was done. She'd proven her point. He'd realize how outmatched he was and give up on this suicide mission.

His hand moved. Braced against the floor.

"No." Sloane's voice cracked. "Don't."

He pushed up to his elbows.

"Lukas, I swear to god—"

He made it to his hands and knees. Head hanging between his shoulders. Sweat dripped onto the mat.

"Stop it." Her hands sparked again. "Just stop."

He looked up at her. Blood, sweat, determination. That stupid, stubborn, infuriating determination.

And she couldn't breathe right. Her chest felt too tight. Her face was hot.

This wasn't supposed to happen. She was supposed to beat sense into him. Make him quit. Protect him from himself even if he hated her for it.

Instead she was standing here watching him refuse to stay down and her heart was doing backflips like she'd just run a marathon.

Unacceptable.

Sloane moved before the thought finished forming. She tackled him back to the mat, using her weight and momentum to pin him flat. Her hands pressed against his shoulders. Her knees bracketed his hips.

"If you can't even overpower one girl, how are you going to beat a group of villains?" She leaned closer. "How are you going to survive a day at Halloran? How are you going to—"

Lukas moved under her. Trying to shift his weight. Trying to escape.

Amateur mistake. She had him completely pinned. There was no way—

SMACK.

The sound echoed through the gym.

Heat exploded across her backside. Sharp and sudden and completely unexpected.

"Ahnng!"

The noise left her mouth before she could stop it. High-pitched and breathy and absolutely mortifying.

They both froze.

Sloane's brain stopped working. Every thought dissolved into white noise and the phantom sensation of Lukas's palm against her ass through her leggings.

He just.

He.

"Did you just—" Her voice came out strangled. Wrong register. Too high.

Lukas stared up at her with wide amber eyes. His hand was still raised slightly. Like the motion hadn't completed yet.

"I was trying to push you off," he said. "I didn't mean—"

"You spanked me."

"I didn't mean to."

"You. Spanked. Me."

Heat crawled up her neck. Flooded her face. Her entire body felt like she'd been dunked in boiling water.

Small pops started going off around her. Tiny detonations in the air. Unconscious. Uncontrolled.

Bad. This was bad.

"Get out." The words barely made it past her lips.

"Sloane—"

"GET OUT."

More pops. Louder. The training mat beneath them scorched.

Lukas scrambled backward. Got to his feet faster than he'd moved all session. "I'm sorry, I didn't—"

"OUT."

He ran.

The door slammed behind him.

Sloane stayed on the mat, kneeling in the exact position she'd been pinning him. Her Aspect fired randomly around her. Little explosions that would've hurt if they landed on anything living.

Her hands shook.

Her face burned.

Her backside still tingled where he'd.

Where he'd.

"Oh my god." She covered her face with both hands. "Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god."

===

[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!

☜(⌒▽⌒)☞