The Scumbag's Guide To Heroism

〘 Observation: Subject Sloane Fitzgerald demonstrates high intelligence and accurate threat assessment capabilities. Recommend continued honesty to maintain trust metrics. Deception at this stage would be counterproductive. 〙

Great. Even the manipulative AI was telling me to be genuine. That was either a good sign or the most worrying development yet.

"For what it’s worth," I said quietly, "I’m scared of it too."

She blinked. "Really?"

"Yeah. Because I don’t know if I’m making these choices or if—" I stopped myself before saying ’the System is making them for me.’ "Or if I’m just following the path of least resistance."

"That’s surprisingly self-aware."

"I have my moments."

She reached over and took my hand, threading our fingers together. The simple contact sent a warm pulse through my chest, grounding me after everything that had just happened between us. Her skin was still flushed, her breathing still slightly uneven, and the sight of her like this — rumpled and satisfied and trusting enough to reach for me — made something twist in my stomach that had nothing to do with the System or its objectives.

"Just promise me one thing," she said, her voice softer than I’d heard it in years.

"What?"

"Don’t lie to me about who you’re with. If you sleep with someone else, tell me. Don’t make me find out by walking in on you or hearing it from someone else or seeing it on your face when you think I’m not looking."

The request hit me like a physical blow. Not because it was unreasonable — it was the most reasonable thing she could have asked for, given what we’d just started. But because of how carefully she’d phrased it. Not ’if you cheat on me’ or ’if you break up with me first.’ She knew. On some level, she already knew this wasn’t going to be simple or exclusive or follow any of the normal relationship rules we’d grown up watching other people navigate.

She was asking me not to make her feel stupid when the inevitable complications arrived.

"I promise," I said, and meant it in a way that made my throat tight.

"Good." She squeezed my hand once, her thumb brushing across my knuckles, then released it. "Now get out of my room. I need to take a nap before Mom gets home, and if you stay here much longer, we both know exactly what’s going to happen."

Her gaze flicked meaningfully toward the parts of me that were already responding to the suggestion, and I felt heat rise in my face.

"What’s going to happen?"

"Round two. And I’m way too sore for round two right now."

I grinned. "That’s kind of flattering."

"It’s your fault."

"You’re the one who wanted me to—"

She threw another pillow at my head. "Out. Now. Before I change my mind and decide to kill you instead."

I caught the pillow with Spectral Reach again, just to watch her scowl deepen. Then I ducked out of her room before she could actually follow through on the murder threat.

Back in my own room, I finally let myself collapse onto my bed and stare at the ceiling.

Sixty-three hours left on the quest timer.

Two out of three objectives complete. Diane was on board. Sloane had reluctantly agreed to try. All that remained was the actual execution, which was somehow the most terrifying part.

How the hell was I supposed to orchestrate a threesome between a girl I’d taken the virginity of yesterday and her mother who’d been my secret lover for two weeks?

〘 Inquiry: Would host like strategic recommendations for optimal scenario execution? 〙

"Not from you," I muttered.

〘 Observation: Host demonstrates unnecessary resistance to assistance. System objectives align with host survival and prosperity. Rejection of guidance is counterproductive. 〙

"Your idea of prosperity is turning me into a walking hentai protagonist."

〘 Correction: Host has already achieved hentai protagonist status through independent choices. System merely provides framework for optimization. 〙

I hated that it wasn’t wrong.

Every choice I’d made since manifesting Spectral Reach had led me here. Sleeping with Diane. Pursuing Sloane. Accepting quests that pushed me toward increasingly complicated relationship dynamics.

This was the Scumbag’s Path. The custom route I’d chosen when I rejected the Hero, Villain, and Vigilante options.

Complete freedom. Zero guardrails. A progression system that rewarded me for getting multiple powerful women emotionally and physically dependent on me.

And the worst part?

A dark corner of my brain was genuinely excited about it.

Not the guilt. Not the moral complexity. But the raw potential.

Diane’s power had increased by over twenty percent from our encounters. Sloane would show similar gains. And at Halloran, I’d be surrounded by ambitious Hero candidates with rare Aspects and competitive drives.

If the Claimed buff worked on everyone the same way it worked on the Fitzgeralds, I could theoretically build an entire team of enhanced heroines. Women who were stronger because of me. Who depended on me for continued progression.

A harem in function if not in name.

The System purred contentedly in the back of my head.

〘 Observation: Host demonstrates optimal strategic thinking. Recommend pursuing this operational framework at Halloran. Probability of success: 73.4%. 〙

"That’s what you wanted all along, wasn’t it?"

〘 Clarification: System does not possess wants. System provides opportunities. Host choices determine utilization. 〙

"Bullshit. You’ve been steering me toward this since day one."

〘 Observation: Host demonstrates paranoia. Recommend emotional regulation. All System guidance has been designed to maximize host survival and power acquisition. Outcomes align with host’s stated desires. 〙

It wasn’t wrong. I had wanted power. I had wanted to survive. I had wanted to prove that being Unmarked didn’t mean being worthless.

The System had just given me the tools to achieve those goals through the most morally questionable route possible.

And I’d taken every single opportunity it offered.

My phone buzzed. Message from Diane.

How did things go with Sloane?

I stared at the text for a long moment, considering my response.

Better than expected. We talked.

Just talked?

Among other things.

Good. I’m coming home early. Six o’clock. Be ready.

My heart rate kicked up several notches.

Be ready for what, exactly?

Another message came through before I could ask.

I think it’s time we had a family discussion about boundaries and expectations. All three of us. Don’t you agree?

Oh.

Oh no.

This was it. This was the moment where everything either came together or exploded spectacularly in my face.

I checked the quest timer again. Sixty-two hours and change remaining.

If Diane was initiating the conversation herself, that meant I didn’t have to manufacture the scenario. I just had to not completely fuck it up once we were all in the same room together.

Sounds good, I typed back. I’ll be ready.

Perfect. And Lukas?

Yeah?

Thank you for giving Sloane what she needed today. I know that wasn’t easy.

The guilt pressed harder against my ribs.

Because it had been easy. That was the problem. Sleeping with Sloane, convincing her to accept this insane arrangement, lying through my teeth about my feelings and motivations.

All of it had been terrifyingly easy.

I was getting good at being the Scumbag the System wanted me to be.

And that realization scared me more than anything else in this entire fucked-up situation.