The first thing that should've told me this wasn't my room was the curtains.
I never had the luxury of getting any kind of curtains in my room. Most of the time, it was either half-broken blinds or nothing at all.
The second clue was this bed.
It was way too big to be my old full-sized bed. This thing was at least king-sized, with impossibly soft sheets and a mattress so comfortable that it felt like getting out of it should be illegal.
"What the…" I mumbled, pushing myself onto my elbows as I yawned, trying to shake off the last bit of sleepiness.
The room slowly came into focus.
Cream-colored walls. Minimalist furniture. A sleek desk tucked neatly into the corner, complete with a sick gaming setup, expensive enough to make any gamer cry.
This wasn't my room.
Not even close.
I patted around for my phone but couldn't find it anywhere.
Damn… did I get drunk last night or something?
I racked my brain for any memory of how I even got here, but all I found was fuzzy static.
Ding.
A notification chimed from somewhere nearby.
Normally I would check it immediately, but with my skull feeling like it had just got split open, it wasn't exactly on my priority list.
"Water," I croaked while swinging my legs off the bed.
Instead of the cheap, chicken-scratched carpet I was used to, my feet sank into thick, plush carpeting.
I stood up shakily, nearly tripping at the unfamiliarity of my legs.
Why do my legs feel so… long?
Why was I so tall?
The bedroom door felt like it was a million miles away as I shuffled toward it. When I finally grabbed the handle and pulled it open, I found myself before a hallway that looked like it belonged in an issue of Architectural Digest.
Polished hardwood floors gleamed under the recessed lighting. Elegant paintings hung on the walls, while decorative sculptures filled the empty space between them.
A few of the statues looked like superheroes wearing capes.
Huh, must be a family of hardcore Marvel fans.
One of the doors farther down the hall was slightly ajar, so I went towards it.
Hopefully that's the bathroom.
I pushed it open.
Definitely not the bathroom.
Thankfully, the bedroom was unoccupied, but it obviously belonged to a girl.
The walls were painted a soft lavender, with a vanity close to a wall, covered in makeup and perfume bottles. Posters of what I could only describe as a K-POP group with some kind of superhero aesthetic filled the rest of the walls as well.
"Okay… wrong room."
"Wait… a girl's 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 during my first semester?"
Despite the pounding headache, I couldn't stop myself from grinning.
"Fucking champion move… but why can't I remember any of it?"
The next door turned out to be an office.
Expensive furniture. Bookshelves packed from top to bottom. Framed certificates covering one wall.
Definitely… not the bathroom.
I closed it quickly.
Door number three was a linen closet overflowing with towels.
Fourth door, thankfully, was the bathroom.
And what a bathroom.
Massive, marble-countered, with a shower big enough for five people.
I staggered over to the sink, turned the fancy faucet, and splashed cold water onto my face again and again.
The shock of it helped clear my head a little.
Taking a slow, deep breath, I looked up at the mirror.
A stranger stared back at me.
"WHAT THE HELL?!"
I slapped a hand over my mouth before slowly lowering it, watching the reflection in the mirror do the exact same thing perfectly.
The face in the mirror looked nothing like the me I remembered.
He was tall and lean, with sharp cheekbones, messy dirty-blond hair, and striking amber eyes.
Amber eyes…
Who the hell has amber eyes?
They stared back at me, wide with shock.
"Who the fuck are you?" I whispered, watching the stranger's lips move in perfect sync with mine.
I reached and touched my face.
The skin felt warm and real underneath my fingertips.
I tugged at my cheeks, stuck out my tongue, and blinked several times, only to see the mirror do the exact same movements.
"This is a dream," I muttered, nodding to myself. "A very weird, ridiculously detailed dream. Any second now I'm going to wake up in my dorm room with a mother of all hangovers."
Ding.
That notification chime sounded again.
This time, something flashed across my vision.
It looked exactly like a heads-up display in a video game.
Text floated in midair:
[SCUMBAG SYSTEM: Welcome, Host. System initialization complete.]
I blinked hard, but the text didn't disappear.
Instead, another line appeared.
[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, faces.
Years of memories that somehow didn't belong to me… yet felt as real as my own.
I was the ward of Diane Fitzgerald.
The unmarked son of fallen heroes.
I was…
Lukas Belmont.
I gripped the bathroom counter as the room seemed to spin around me, these foreign memories flooding my brain like a tidal wave.
He lived in a city called Verano and dreamed of attending Halloran Academy. This society was filled with people who possessed supernatural powers known as Aspects, all registered under an organization called the IHL.
And there was me.
Lukas Belmont, a guy with no powers at all.
"Holy shit… this can't be happening," I whispered.
But even as the words slipped out of my mouth, I already knew it was real.
Somehow, I had woken up in someone else's body—in a world where superheroes weren't just real but licensed, ranked, and treated as celebrities.
[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 before my vision for a moment, then changed:
[SCUMBAG SYSTEM: New Main Quest unavailable.]
"Alright then."
I looked back in the mirror to see the stranger staring back at me—or rather, myself now.
Lukas wasn't bad looking. He just looked… tired. Those amber eyes of his carried the weight of someone who had been through a lot.
And now, they carried my burden too.
I splashed some more water on my face before grabbing the softest hand towel I'd ever felt to dry off.
Okay. First things first.
I need to get my bearings and figure out who Lukas Belmont truly was.
I headed back into what I now understood was Lukas's bedroom, my bare feet silent on the hardwood floor.
Halfway toward the room, another notification chimed:
[ORACLE FEED ACTIVATED]
[Current threat assessment: None]
[Local points of interest: Kitchen (occupied) – Sloane Fitzgerald present.
Lines of text appeared in my peripheral vision, listing the house's layout along with the information about its current occupants. Apparently, part of this "system" included some kind of awareness feed that constantly told me where people were and what they were doing.
"That's not creepy at all," I muttered as I pushed open the door to Lukas's room.
Inside, I found the closet and pulled it open. Rows of clothes hung neatly—expensive-looking without being flashy.
I grabbed a pair of jeans and a dark hoodie, both of which fit perfectly.
Of course they did.
This was my body now…
As I got dressed, a framed photo on the nightstand caught my eye.
A man and woman stood side by side in colorful hero uniforms, smiling proudly at the camera.
Lukas's parents.
Damn…
This kid had lost his parents, and now it seems like I had somehow taken over his life.
That's rough, buddy.
I picked up the photo to study the faces of Varen and Reina Belmont.
Heroes.
People who died saving civilians.
"I'm sorry," I whispered.
I wasn't sure whether I was apologizing to them… or to Lukas himself.
After a moment, I gently set the photo back where I had found it and headed for the door.
Time to face whatever this world had in store for me.
The moment I stepped into the hallway, another notification flashed in my vision:
[ORACLE FEED UPDATE]
[Subject: Sloane Fitzgerald]
[Location: Kitchen]
[Status: Irritated]
[Temptation Gauge: 22%]
"Temptation gauge?" I frowned. "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 froze in the hallway.
"You're telling me this system tracks how much women want to sleep with me?"
[SCUMBAG SYSTEM: Affirmative. Increase in Temptation Gauges generate System Points. System Points can be used to purchase Gacha pulls. Gacha pulls award abilities.]
I stared into the empty hall for a long second.
"So… it's basically a dating sim's reward loop bolted onto a gacha mechanic.
I let out a dry laugh.
"All set in a superhero world where my only path to power is getting women hot enough so that I can fund my slot machine. Fantastic."
[SCUMBAG SYSTEM: Correction: The system awards genuine abilities through the Gacha. These abilities cannot be detected through 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 measure progress. And Missions accelerate progression.]
I pushed myself 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, all the while living in a world filled with actual superheroes."
[SCUMBAG SYSTEM: Assessment accurate.]
I sighed.
"Well… at least you're honest." I muttered before shaking my head and continuing down the hallway toward the kitchen, guided by the Oracle Feed.
...
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 and 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: Make it to 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!
☜(⌒▽⌒)☞
