My Scumbag System

I stared at the empty space where Apollo had vanished, still feeling the ghost of the gacha energy tingling against my skin like static electricity. The room seemed strangely silent after his departure. The only sound was the soft, wet sucking noise of Bartholomew's journey up my pant leg.

"Okay, little guy," I sighed, carefully detaching the surprisingly strong snail from my ankle. His body was stuck fast. "Let's not get carried away with this whole 'animals love me' thing. There are boundaries in every relationship."

Bartholomew's eyestalks quivered as I placed him back in his terrarium. He immediately changed course and began climbing the glass wall again, eyestalks pointed directly at me with an intensity that was frankly unsettling for a creature without eyelids.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm irresistible. Tell me something I don't know," I muttered, watching him leave a glistening trail on the glass. "At least you're not asking me to sing while you help me get dressed or something."

I sat on the edge of my bed and closed my eyes, focusing inward. The tingling sensation hadn't faded. If anything, it had intensified, moving from my skin to somewhere deeper, somewhere less physical. Like an itch you can't scratch because it exists in a dimension your fingers can't reach. My mana channels felt different. Wider. Hotter. More responsive. It was like someone had replaced narrow garden hoses with industrial pipes, just waiting for the floodgates to open.

"Status."

The familiar blue screen materialized before me. The numbers had changed. My Magic stat had always been my highest, and now it seemed to pulse with newfound potential. I could feel the Dragon Witch's Ring on my finger, a comfortable weight that hadn't been there before. The obsidian band absorbed and reflected the dim light of my room like a black hole with a glowing heart.

"Let's break down the new merchandise, shall we? Time for the unboxing video."

I expanded the item description for the Dragon Witch's Ring first, running my thumb over its smooth surface. The crimson gemstone pulsed in time with my heartbeat, like a tiny, trapped ember.

"A 75% boost to flame abilities..." I murmured, summoning a tiny ember to dance across my fingertips. What had once been a matchstick flame now blazed like a welding torch, bright enough to cast harsh, angular shadows across my room. The blue-white intensity of it momentarily startled me. I extinguished it with a thought, surprised by the ease of control. "Ember just went from party trick to legitimate weapon. Simple. Effective. I like it."

The heat lingered on my fingertips. Present, warm, a reminder of the potential nestled in my hand. This wasn't just a stat boost. It was a fundamental upgrade to my arsenal. One I'd have to test properly, away from flammable dorm furnishings and immortal pets.

Next, I examined Devil's Advocate. The trait description floated before me, promising a 40% boost to my lies and an instinctive sense for manipulation targets. The golden text seemed to shimmer with mischievous intent.

"This," I said with a growing smile, "is going to be invaluable. A direct counter to Kimiko's truth-sense. Perfect for handling interrogations from faculty." I couldn't help but laugh, the sound echoing in my small room. "Apollo might be an asshole, but he knows how to stock a good armory. It's like he read my Christmas list."

I could already imagine the applications. The fake breakup with Natalia would be so much more convincing. My excuses to teachers when I inevitably skipped class to pursue more interesting activities. The subtle half-truths I'd need to feed Emi to reel her in completely. This trait was a skeleton key for a lockpicker. Redundant at first glance, maybe, but the perfect backup for delicate work.

The trait description for Rockstar Made appeared next. My smile widened to something predatory, all teeth and dark promise.

"Oh, this is just beautiful. A 5% attribute bonus every time I survive life-threatening damage, plus faster recovery?" I ran my fingers through my hair, laughing softly at the cosmic irony. "Braxton thinks he's breaking me down, but he's actually forging me into something monstrous. The universe has a twisted sense of humor. This is like giving a pyromaniac matches and gasoline."

I could already see the exponential growth curve. Each beating, each near-death experience, each moment of pain would compound into raw power. Braxton's training methods were brutal by design. Meant to weed out the weak. But for me? They were a fast track to godhood. Each bruise, each broken bone, each concussion would be an investment in my future dominance.

Then my gaze landed on the fourth acquisition. My laughter died in my throat.

"Nel," I growled, "we need to talk about this Disney Princess bullshit. Did you let a five-year-old girl take over the gacha machine?"

A familiar presence bloomed in my mind, bringing with it the sensation of amused superiority that always accompanied Nel's manifestation. It was like having a cat sit on your brain. A cat that thought you were an amusing, ultimately inferior species.

[The Administrator finds the juxtaposition dramatically compelling,] Nel's voice lilted in my head, dripping with barely contained mirth. [A scumbag king surrounded by adoring woodland creatures. The audience will find it... refreshing. Perhaps even heartwarming.]

"It makes me look ridiculous," I protested, gesturing emphatically at nothing. "What am I supposed to do? Command an army of field mice to nibble through Julian's shoelaces? Have birds braid my hair while I sing about my feelings? Should I start naming the cockroaches in this building?"

[Creative applications are left to the discretion of the protagonist,] Nel replied, her mental voice dripping with barely suppressed laughter. Each word carried the undercurrent of a cosmic joke at my expense. [Perhaps consider espionage possibilities? Small animals can access areas humans cannot. They see things, hear things, go places unnoticed.]

I paused. My initial disgust slowly gave way to reluctant strategic thinking. "Surveillance... that's actually workable. Birds could scout for me, rats could infiltrate buildings, monitor conversations." A reluctant smile tugged at my lips as possibilities unfolded. "Fine. I'll find a way to weaponize Snow White. Turn this joke into a genuine threat. Even cockroaches have their uses."

[The Administrator appreciates your adaptability. It's a quality that distinguishes successful protagonists from temporary entertainment.]

I could practically hear her smirking in my head. Sometimes I wondered if Nel was genuinely trying to help me or just setting up elaborate jokes for her own amusement. Probably both.

I turned my attention to the final acquisition. "Energy Emission," I muttered, calling up the ability description. The platinum-tiered text glowed with power and promise. "A classic energy blast. Powerful, straightforward... and an absolute mana hog. The nuclear option."

[Risk and reward exist in delicate balance,] Nel observed, her mental voice taking on a more philosophical tone. [A hero who wins easily provides poor entertainment. A hero who might destroy himself to achieve victory? That creates tension. Tension creates engagement. Engagement feeds the System.]

"It's a glass cannon," I said, frowning at the description. "My Magic stat is my highest, but this would drain me in one or two good shots. And that's the problem. I only have two active ability slots. It's like having a rocket launcher that knocks you unconscious after firing."

I stared at my current loadout: EMBER and SEVER.

"SEVER is non-negotiable. It's my signature, my bread and butter." I traced the pattern of the Dragon Witch's Ring with my index finger, feeling the warm pulse of the gemstone against my skin. "But EMBER just got a massive upgrade from this ring. Do I keep it for versatility, or swap in Energy Emission for that one-shot potential? Reliable firepower versus a tactical nuke?"

[The choice reflects your character development arc,] Nel said, her voice taking on that irritating know-it-all quality she used when dispensing wisdom. [Reliable versatility versus high-risk power. The steady flame versus the blinding nova. The Administrator awaits your decision with interest. Choose wisely, little hero.]