My Scumbag System

Chapter 561: Stray Dog Daddy

She probably could. Kimiko had a spine made of something tougher than whatever Satori’s bat was forged from.

The ferry docked. We disembarked into chaos.

Camera crews lined the pier. Reporters shouted questions that blurred into white noise. Fans held signs with my face on them. One sign read STRAY DOG DADDY with a heart drawn in what I sincerely hoped was red marker rather than blood.

"Celebrity life suits you," Skylar murmured as we pushed through the crowd.

"I’d trade it for a nap."

"You’d trade most things for a nap."

"Sleep is the foundation of human civilization."

"You sound like Juan."

"Juan is an unappreciated genius."

Skylar snorted. The sound carried zero elegance and absolute sincerity, which was basically her entire personality in a single exhale.

We made it to the competitor’s staging area. The underground complex beneath the Crucible smelled like sweat and cleaning chemicals. Other guilds occupied their designated prep rooms. Silver and blue for the Sentinels. Crimson and black for the Phantoms. Cobalt for the Vipers. Green for the Strikers. Our section sat at the far end of the corridor, marked with the Onyx Hounds’ three-headed dog emblem that someone had clearly drawn by hand because our guild’s budget didn’t extend to professional signage.

"Home sweet dump," Raphael said, kicking open the door. ƒгeewebnovёl.com

The prep room was exactly as luxurious as expected. Concrete walls. Metal benches. A single flickering overhead light that buzzed at a frequency designed to cause migraines. Our lockers lined one wall, each holding the combat gear we’d stored the previous day.

"The Sentinels have heated floors," Jacob mentioned, scrolling through his datapad. "And a private chef."

"We have character," I said.

"Character doesn’t prevent hypothermia."

"It does if you have enough of it."

The team dispersed into preparation routines. Isabelle began her warm-up sequence with the silent concentration of someone who treated combat like prayer. Raphael and Marco claimed the far corner for sparring. Hikari did handstands against the wall while Jaime spotted her. Juan found a corner to sleep in within thirty seconds of entering the room, an achievement that would have been impressive if it weren’t deeply concerning given that competition started in ninety minutes.

Emi set up her medical station on the bench nearest the door. Bandages, potions, bacta-patches, energy supplements, and what looked like a homemade protein bar roughly the consistency of cement.

"Eat this."

"Is it food?"

"It’s fuel."

"There’s a difference?"

"Satori."

Her voice carried the particular tone she reserved for moments when she’d decided arguing was no longer an option. I bit into the protein bar. It tasted like cardboard mixed with ambition.

"Good?"

"Incredible."

"You’re lying."

"Absolutely."

She smiled anyway. The expression lit up her entire face in a way that made the concrete bunker feel less like a prison and more like somewhere people actually lived.

Natalia appeared at my shoulder. "We need to talk about Reyna."

"We talked about Reyna this morning."

"We talked about winning. Different topic." She steered me toward the far wall, away from the others. "During your one-on-one, she’ll target the left side. You favor your right for overhead swings, which means your left flank opens for half a second during the follow-through."

"You’ve been timing my swing recovery."

"I’ve been timing everything about you for two months."

"That’s either romantic or obsessive."

"Both." Her purple eyes held mine without blinking. "She’ll also try to make you angry. Personal comments. References to us. Anything to break your focus and make you fight emotionally instead of intelligently." fгeewёbnoѵel.cσm

"Bold of her to assume I fight intelligently in the first place."

"Satori."

"I’m listening."

"Promise me you’ll dodge the first lightning strike instead of absorbing it."

"Why?"

"Because absorbing it proves nothing except that you can take damage. Dodging it proves you’re better than her."

The logic was sound. The delivery was all Natalia. She didn’t ask me to be careful or beg me to come back safe. She demanded that I prove superiority through technique rather than endurance. My queen didn’t want me to survive. She wanted me to dominate.

"Deal."

"And if she breaks your ribs again, I’m freezing her entire bloodline."

"That seems excessive."

"I’m excessive. You knew this when you chose me."

I kissed her forehead. She swatted my chest but didn’t pull away. Through the Covenant bond I felt her emotions, a complicated cocktail of love and fear and pride that she’d never admit to experiencing in front of witnesses.

Cel arrived in her combat suit, looking like winter given human form. Silver-white hair braided with combat-ready tightness. The suit fit her like a second skin in shades of ice blue and pearl that probably cost more than the entire Onyx House building.

"The bracket’s been finalized." She held up her phone. "Event one starts in seventy-five minutes. Combat simulation, individual ranking."

"Who am I against?"

"Everyone. It’s a simultaneous clear. All competitors enter separate instances of the same simulated Gate environment. Fastest completion time wins."

"So it’s a race."

"With monsters."

"My favorite kind."

Noah appeared behind Cel with the quiet intensity of a woman who existed primarily as a weapon in human form. Her blonde hair pulled back so tight it changed the geometry of her face. Eyes scanning the room. Already identifying exits and threats and potential sources of violence.

"Security check complete. No unauthorized personnel in the staging area. Three camera crews have press passes that I’ve verified with VHC credentials. One crew has a drone operator I don’t trust."

"You don’t trust anyone, Noah."

"Keeps me alive."

"Hard to argue with results."

The minutes evaporated. Akari and Soomin arrived together, which was a combination I hadn’t expected. Soomin clutched her gauntlets to her chest like a security blanket while Akari talked at approximately the speed of light about betting odds and livestream viewership numbers.

"Seven hundred million streaming globally. That’s more than the World Cup finals last year."

"How do you even know that?" Emi asked.

"I have alerts set up. Brand awareness is crucial for long-term market positioning."

"You’re eighteen."

"And already establishing my portfolio. By the time we graduate, I’ll own three percent of every sports drink company in Valoria through strategic influencer equity."

Natalia rubbed her temples. "Someone please make her stop talking about money."

Maki chose that moment to materialize on my shoulder in cat form. She’d been hiding in my shadow the entire ferry ride, which I knew because my left shoulder had been unusually warm and my Tori-Sense kept pinging "friendly" from directly behind my head.

She meowed once. The sound carried zero innocence and absolute calculation.

"Not now," I told her.

She meowed again, louder. Several heads turned.

"Your cat followed you to a tournament?" Raphael asked, pausing mid-stretch.

"My cat does whatever my cat wants. I have no control over this situation."

Maki purred smugly against my neck. Her tails, hidden through her transformation, nonetheless conveyed an unmistakable air of self-satisfaction.

The intercom crackled. Maximus Hype’s voice filled the staging area with the force of a man who’d consumed his body weight in caffeine and converted it into pure enthusiasm.

"GOOD MORNING, WARRIORS! Event One begins in THIRTY MINUTES! All competitors report to your designated simulation pods! This is NOT A DRILL! Although there will be drills! INSIDE THE SIMULATION! Where the monsters live! AND THEY’RE HUNGRY!"