Reincarnated With The Degenerate System

I leaned back on the sofa, stretching my feet lazily.

Physically, this body hadn't moved during that fight, but my mind still registered the exhaustion.

Funny how that worked. My neurons were busy inventing fatigue where there wasn't any, replaying muscle soreness and adrenaline spikes as if I truly earned them.

It was strange, almost irritating, but fascinating at the same time.

I closed my eyes for a moment, letting the illusion of exhaustion wash over me, enjoying the taste of it, knowing it was all in my head.

Eyes still closed, I let my fingers drift over the remote, pressing the button almost without thinking.

The TV flickered to life, showing the messed I created in the Federal Building.

A woman in a neat blazer stared into the camera. She looked visibly distressed as she reported the scene.

"The monster attack continues to baffle authorities," she said, swallowing hard between sentences.

"Damage assessment is ongoing, and investigations are underway to determine if any organized group or individual was involved."

The footage behind her flickered—smoke curling from shattered buildings, emergency lights cutting through the chaos.

She glanced at it for a brief second, a shadow of disbelief crossing her face before she returned to the lens.

"Witnesses reported a large unidentified creature appearing suddenly in the Federal Building. Senator Rockwell was tragically killed during his speech."

"Officials deny any evidence of human involvement," the reporter continued. "Sources claim the senator was caught in the crossfire before his guards could fully respond."

No mention of an assassin.

No mention of a human culprit.

Screen flicked to footage of my werewolf form, and I must admit—it looked every bit as badass and terrifying as I'd imagined.

Even on a grainy broadcast, the form carried a lot of aura.

People would see it and feel the impact from miles away.

I smirked, letting the image linger. 'Yeah… that's exactly the effect I wanted.'

The reporter's voice continued over the footage, strained, almost trembling now.

"…witnesses say the creature moved with incredible speed and strength. Officials are urging everyone to stay indoors as the investigation continues."

So that was the narrative they chose.

A monster. An accident. Collateral damage.

They'd buried the truth neatly, wrapped it in fear and fiction, and shoved it down the public's throat.

The idea that a human—no, someone intentional—had killed a senator? That would shake too many foundations.

It worked perfectly in my favor, so who was I to complain?

The footage replayed again, slower this time. Emergency crews.

Bloodstained rubble. A stretcher vanishing into the back of an ambulance.

Still nothing about my fight with Hai-Yen—which was strange, considering how flashy it was.

Soon, another news popped up, claiming yet another beast rampage had struck a hotel.

I let out a dry laugh. Really? The same reason?

ring! ring ! ring!

Master Tang's name lit up the screen before the news segment even finished.

Looks like the old man couldn't wait. Of course he couldn't. Anyone in his position would be drowning in questions—how, when, who helped, what price was paid.

Pulling something like that off wasn't supposed to be possible, not cleanly, not without ripples.

I let the phone ring a few more times than necessary, just long enough to remind him I wasn't someone he could summon at will. Then I answered.

"Took you long enough," he said, trying—and failing—to sound calm.

A faint smile tugged at my lips. "I was busy."

There was a pause. I could feel the questions piling up behind his silence.

"How did you do it?" he finally asked the golden question.

I leaned back, eyes drifting to the dark TV screen, my reflection faintly staring back.

"Let's just say that I have access to resources you don't."

"Are you saying another organization is backing you, aside from the Order? Who is it?"

"Master Tang." I made sure to emphasize his name. "Just like you have your own secrets, I have mine. But rest assured—I'm with the Order. As for who I work with in my own time… that's my business."

Silence stretched between us. I could picture him now, fingers resting against his cup, eyes narrowed—not in anger, but contemplation.

"Kid—" He stopped himself, reconsidered. "Hmph. Well. You completed the mission. Who am I to complain?"

A faint smile tugged at my lips.

"I you have any other work," I added casually, "feel free to contact me. As long as it's celestial grade…"

I let the words hang for a beat.

"I'll always deliver."

There was no need to say more. The message was clear.

On the other end of the line, I could feel his attention sharpen, interest replacing caution.

"Careful, kid," Master Tang said at last, amusement threading his voice. "Talk like that, and people will start expecting miracles."

I chuckled softly. "Let them."

"Hahaha! You really are the most interesting young man I've ever met," Master Tang laughed aloud. I could hear the smile in his voice.

"Your confidence is through the roof now. Don't tell me you've got some kind of cheat that lets you grow stronger in a short amount of time?"

He meant it as a joke. Ironically, he was uncomfortably close to the truth.

I let out a light laugh, keeping my tone casual. "If I did, Master Tang, do you really think I'd admit it so casually?"

A pause. Then another chuckle from his end. "Fair enough. Every magicians has his tricks."

"Results matter more than tricks," I said. "As long as the job gets done."

"Well said," he replied. "Just don't grow so fast that even old and experienced men like me can't keep up."

I smiled to myself as the call finally ended.

Jokes were safest when they brushed the truth without ever touching it.

.

.

.

Days passed quietly.

The government didn't seem eager to make a big deal out of it. Official statements were careful, measured, almost like they were afraid to draw too much attention.

"Monster attack, Collateral Damaged, Tower phenomenon" they repeated, over and over, as if saying it enough would erase any suspicion of human interference.

But social media told a different story.

Screens flooded with hashtags, trending topics, and heated threads.

Senator Rockwell was widely loved—popular, ambitious, and with a high chance of winning the presidency.

His death wasn't just a political loss; it was a shockwave.

Grief, outrage, speculation—it was everywhere. Videos of rallies, past speeches, and heartfelt messages from supporters dominated feeds, and countless people were mourning.

There were even rallies claiming it was an assassination attempt by the opposing party.

That explained why the government was so hellbent on brushing it under the rug. Better to call it a "monster attack" and let everyone spin their own theories.

Meanwhile, I did my own research.

The results… weren't good.

Rockwell's track record was clean—too clean. Policy reforms that actually helped people.

Funding redirected where it mattered. No obvious corruption trails, no buried scandals waiting to be dug up. By every conventional metric, he was a good politician. One of the rare ones.

Which meant there was a chance—however small—that I killed an innocent man.

That thought lingered longer than I liked. It sat in the back of my mind, heavy, uncomfortable, refusing to be ignored.

I kept digging

Before politics, Rockwell had been a head researcher.

It wasn't proof. Not enough to damn him outright. But it did connect him to the evidence that Master Tang gave me.

I leaned back, staring at the ceiling, letting the silence stretch. Morality was funny like that. Flexible when convenient. Heavy when it wasn't.

In the end, what was done was done. Regret wouldn't bring him back, and hesitation would only get me killed the next time someone like Master Tang pointed me at a target.

Still…

Next time, I would dig first.

.

.

.

With nothing pressing, my attention returned to the guild.

The place had become a hive of activity since our marketing push.

Calls from B and A Ranks kept flooding in, each wanting a closer look at what we were offering.

They were intrigued by the idea of a guild that provided better compensation, and real opportunities to rise in rank.

Couldn't really blame them. Most high-ranking guilds were already packed with executives.

The unpopular ones? They didn't have the funds to grow, and their connections barely reached past their own walls.

I had both. Connections. Capital. Influence.

It was a no-brainer. Anyone with an ounce of ambition and a sense for opportunity would come knocking.

With things already coming along, I headed to my big office—far too large for one person, but I got it anyway.

I mean, what better way to show that I had money than by taking up more space than necessary?

It had its own bedroom, living room, and even a kitchenette, practically making it an expensive condo unit masquerading as a workspace.

The high ceilings and big windows let sunlight flood the room, shining on the polished floors and shelves full of books that I won't even read anyway.

Anyone walking in, or even seeing it from the hallway, would know who was in charge.

But joking aside, there was a real reason I designed it this way. I planned to live here.

The ride back to the mansion took too long, and time was one thing I didn't like wasting, if it's not related to beautiful women that needed my love and affection.

Speaking of… a text from Claire popped up.

I almost forgotten my first kiss, and here she was, reminding me. What a hindsight on my part.

"Let's meet up. I missed you." I texted her.