"Name: Jenna."
"Age: 22."
"Appearance: 89 points."
"Body: 92 points."
"Quality: 100 (Pure, unawakened potential.)"
"System Rating: 87 points."
"In-depth Reward Unlocks: 15 (Monthly Reset)."
"Evaluation: Meets the requirements. Accept this survivor to nourish the Devil Fruit Tree."
Elric stared at the translucent screen floating before his eyes, visible only to him, the blue-tinted interface casting a faint glow across his retinas. The data scrolled past in neat columns, clinical and precise, reducing a human being to nothing more than numbers and potential.
He muttered to himself, his voice barely above a whisper, "So it's only fifteen this time… looks like the number of rewards scales with the rating."
His expression remained calm, though the faint gleam in his eyes showed calculation. Natasha had been rated at 89 points and granted 20 monthly rewards. Jenna's higher rating of 87 points meant 15 rewards—a clear pattern was emerging. Higher compatibility meant more benefits, more power to draw from the System.
If I could find someone rated in the nineties... The thought drifted through his mind before he dismissed it. Best not to get greedy. Work with what you have.
Jenna stood by the corner of the dim room, arms wrapped around herself in a defensive posture that made her look smaller, more vulnerable than her athletic frame suggested. The fluorescent light above them flickered intermittently, throwing sharp shadows on the peeling wallpaper that was stained with water damage and age.
"You… what are you planning to do?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly despite her attempt to sound defiant, to maintain some semblance of control over a situation that had spiraled far beyond her understanding.
Elric stepped closer, his boots crunching on the cracked tiles, each step deliberate. "Simple," he said, meeting her gaze with those unnervingly calm eyes. "Be my woman. In return, you'll never have to worry about food, safety, or shelter again."
Silence filled the room, heavy and oppressive.
Natasha, sitting quietly on the bed with her hands folded in her lap, froze at his words. The blonde woman who had once been a university professor with dignity and status looked up sharply, her expression carefully composed—unreadable to most—but the faint twitch at the corner of her lips betrayed her feelings.
A complex mixture of emotions flashed through her eyes too quickly to identify individually.
"Elric…" she murmured softly, biting her lip hard enough to leave small indentations. The name came out barely audible, almost lost beneath the hum of the dying fluorescent light.
She had already accepted that her survival depended on him—the man who wielded extraordinary abilities in this collapsing world, who could conjure food from nothing and cut through monsters like they were made of paper.
But hearing him say such words to another woman, right in front of her, casually offering the same protection he'd extended to her just hours ago, stirred something sharp inside her chest. Something she didn't want to examine too closely.
She wasn't his girlfriend—they both knew that. There had been no declarations, no promises, no pretense of romance. What they had was transactional, survival-based, born of desperation rather than affection.
Yet she had shared food, space, and more with him. Had given herself to him in exchange for life, and had told herself it was just pragmatism, just necessary.
And now he was saying those same words… to someone else.
The pain was irrational. Foolish, even. But it existed nonetheless, a dull ache behind her ribs.
But Natasha wasn't foolish enough to voice it. She had survived this long by being adaptable, by swallowing her pride when necessary. She lowered her eyes, smoothed her skirt with trembling fingers, and said nothing.
To live in this new, brutal world, she needed Elric. That simple fact overrode everything else.
Jenna, on the other hand, wasn't as restrained. Wasn't as broken yet.
"What did you just say?" she hissed, her voice trembling not just from fear but from pure, undiluted anger.
She glared at Elric, her chin lifting in that automatic gesture of arrogance that came from years of privilege. Even with dirt smudged on her face and exhaustion making her eyes red-rimmed, even with her expensive clothes torn and stained, she carried herself like someone used to being adored.
Before the Collapse, Jenna had been the daughter of the mayor of City's Central District. A position that meant something, that commanded respect and deference. Everywhere she went, people flattered her, opened doors for her, sought her approval.
She was beautiful, sharp-witted, and confident—and she knew it. Had built her entire identity around it.
If a man like Elric had approached her back then— quiet type with an unsettling intensity—she wouldn't have even looked his way. Would have dismissed him with a glance and moved on to someone more appropriate, more worthy of her attention.
And now he dared to say that to her? To make such a crude, insulting proposition as if she were some desperate woman with no other options?
Her pride flared hotter than her fear, burning away caution.
"You think just because you've got some freak power, you can say whatever you want?" she spat, her hands clenching into fists at her sides. "You think I'd ever—"
Elric's calm eyes silenced her mid-sentence.
"I don't think," Elric said quietly, each word precise and measured. "I know what happens to people who refuse me."
The implicit threat needed no elaboration.
The room fell into utter silence, the kind that rang in the ears.
Elric turned slightly toward the window, his eyes reflecting the city lights flickering beyond the shattered glass—the few streetlights that still functioned, powered by backup generators that would eventually fail.
"Decide fast," he said, his tone as calm as ever, as if he were discussing the weather rather than her fate. "This world doesn't wait for anyone."
Natasha looked away from both of them, hiding the faint pain in her eyes by studying the cracked tiles beneath her feet.
Jenna clenched her fists so tightly her nails bit into her palms, caught between rage and despair, pride and survival instinct.
Outside, thunder rumbled over the skyline—the sound of another explosion echoing from somewhere downtown, some battle or accident or monster rampage.
In this dying America, in this new world where the old rules had burned away, there were no good choices left.
Only survival. Only compromise. Only the endless calculation of what you were willing to sacrifice to see another dawn.
"Don't even think about it."
Jenna's voice was firm when she finally spoke, her jaw set despite the tremor that ran through her hands. "I refuse your proposal."
The words came out stronger than she felt, armored in false confidence.
"My boyfriend… I need to see him myself."
She tried to keep her tone calm—even dignified—but the disgust in her eyes toward Elric was unmistakable, poorly concealed despite her attempt at composure.
For a brief second, she felt exposed, realizing how clearly her contempt showed on her face. How obvious her revulsion was.
But she brushed it off almost immediately with the automatic arrogance of someone who'd never faced real consequences for her disdain.
He wouldn't dare, she told herself. He knows who I am. He knows what my father can do.
Before the world went to hell, her father had bodyguards, luxury cars, and political influence that could ruin lives with a single phone call. That power had been her shield her entire life.
Even now, with the world ending around her, that arrogance clung to her like expensive perfume.
Elric, however, wasn't impressed.
A sharp smack split the air like a gunshot.
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