The Scumbag's Guide To Heroism

Dr. Hayes continued to scribble notes as I maintained the spectral arm holding his pen in the air. My amber construct glowed softly in the sterile examination room.

"How long can you maintain the construct?" he asked.

"About thirty minutes at full extension before I start feeling the strain," I lied. The real answer was closer to two hours with my upgraded stats, but better to undersell than oversell.

"And the weight limit?"

"Around fifty pounds." Another lie. I’d moved a hundred-pound training dummy yesterday with barely any effort.

He nodded, still writing. "I see. And have you noticed any other manifestations? Secondary abilities, perhaps? Some late bloomers develop multiple functions."

My pulse quickened. This felt like more than standard verification.

"No, just the telekinesis. Force Manipulation, I mean."

"Mmm. And your parents—Vanguard and Reina Belmont—what were their Aspects again?"

I frowned. "You already have that information."

"Humor me."

"My father had Impact Absorption. My mother had Light Step. Neither were remotely similar to what I can do."

He leaned forward. "That’s quite unusual, isn’t it? For a child to manifest something completely unrelated to either parent’s Aspect? Especially as a late bloomer."

"I wouldn’t know. I’m not a geneticist."

"Of course." He offered a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. "One more thing. Would you mind removing your shirt?"

"Excuse me?"

"I need to check for an Aspect Core. Standard procedure for verification."

That was bullshit. I’d already been registered at the IHL office. But refusing would look suspicious.

"Fine." I pulled my compression shirt over my head.

He stood and approached with a small device that looked like a handheld scanner. "This detects energy signatures. Won’t hurt a bit."

The scanner hummed as he passed it over my chest, then my back, then my arms. I kept my face neutral despite feeling like a lab animal.

"Interesting," he murmured. "Very faint signature, diffused rather than concentrated. Most unusual for a Channeler-type."

"Maybe because it manifested late."

"Perhaps." He didn’t sound convinced. "You can put your shirt back on."

As I pulled my shirt down, he returned to his seat and made more notes.

"Is there a problem with my registration?" I asked, trying to sound casual.

"No, no. Just being thorough." He looked up with that same empty smile. "The academy has procedures for late manifestations. We need to ensure everything is... legitimate."

I kept my face carefully blank. "Legitimate?"

"Some people go to extraordinary lengths to get into Halloran."

I met his gaze and raised an eyebrow. "Okay... and what does that have to do with me?"

Dr. Hayes cleared his throat, clearly not expecting the direct challenge. "I’m simply saying—"

"Isn’t that the point of the exam?" I cut him off, leaning forward. "To weed out contenders from pretenders? Last I checked, that’s what I’m here for – to be tested. Not interrogated about my genetics."

His lips pressed into a tight line. The scanner in his hand made another little electronic chirp.

"Mr. Belmont, your attitude—"

"Is exactly what you’d expect from someone who’s been training their ass off for this opportunity." I stood up, towering over his seated form. "Look, I get it. Late manifestation, famous dead parents, living with the Fitzgeralds – it’s a good story. But I didn’t come here for a medical examination. I came to take the entrance exam."

A vein pulsed in his forehead. Up close, I could see the slight yellowing of his teeth, the patchy stubble on his chin. He wasn’t used to applicants talking back.

"You’re not making a good first impression."

I laughed. "Good thing first impressions aren’t on the test requirements, then."

The Oracle Feed flickered to life in my vision.

Subject: Hayes, Dr. Michael

Current emotional state: Irritated, suspicious

Power dynamics: Attempting to establish authority

Recommendation: De-escalate while maintaining boundary

Fair enough.

"Look," I said, softening my tone slightly, "I understand you need to verify things. But I’ve already been registered with the IHL. Charles Weber himself signed off on my classification. I’m just here to take the test like everyone else."

Hayes studied me for a long moment, then sighed and set down the scanner.

"Very well, Mr. Belmont. You’re cleared for the examination."

He handed me a small blue card with my badge number on it.

"Perfect," I smiled. "Thanks for your cooperation. Which way do I go?"

"Follow the green line outside. It will take you to your assigned testing room based on your last name."

I left quickly before he could change his mind.

〘 NEW QUEST NOTIFICATION AVAILABLE. DISPLAY NOW? 〙

"Not yet," I muttered as I exited the building. "Wait until I’m seated."

The green line split into multiple paths outside. Signs indicated different routes for different last name groupings: A-D, E-H, I-L, M-P, Q-T, U-Z.

My section was A-D, which meant Sloane would be in E-H. We’d be separated for the written portion. Probably by design—Halloran wouldn’t want friends or couples sitting together during the test.

I followed my designated path toward a modern glass building. Other applicants walked the same route, all wearing numbered badges like mine. Some looked confident, others terrified. I spotted a guy with blue skin practicing some kind of gesture with his fingers. Another applicant had what looked like small wings sprouting from her shoulders.

Inside the building, staff members directed us to specific auditoriums. Mine was a large lecture hall with tiered seating and individual desks. A screen at the front displayed "SECTION A-D" and a countdown timer showing twenty minutes until the exam began.

I found my assigned seat—B-138, matching my badge number—and sat down. The desk had a tablet computer built into it, currently displaying the Halloran logo.

Only after I was settled did I nod to the System.

〘 DISPLAYING QUEST NOTIFICATION 〙

〘 MAIN QUEST: "ACADEMIC EXCELLENCE" 〙

〘 OBJECTIVE: SCORE WITHIN THE TOP 15% ON THE HALLORAN ENTRANCE EXAMINATION 〙

〘 REWARD: 500 SCUMBAG POINTS, 1 SILVER GACHA PULL〙

〘 BONUS OBJECTIVE: SCORE WITHIN THE TOP 5% 〙

〘 BONUS REWARD: ADDITIONAL 300 SCUMBAG POINTS, 1 GOLD GACHA PULL WITH SELECTION OPTION 〙

〘 TIME LIMIT: EXAM DURATION 〙

〘 FAILURE PENALTY: -75 REPUTATION POINTS WITH SLOANE FITZGERALD, DECREASED HALLORAN ACCEPTANCE PROBABILITY 〙

Not bad. I’d been expecting something more twisted from the System now that we’d entered Phase Two. Top 15% seemed achievable, though top 5% would be a challenge. These were the best candidates from across the country.

Students continued filing in, filling the auditorium with nervous energy. Two seats over from me, a girl with white hair in intricate braids sat down and immediately began tapping her fingers in a complex pattern that left small patterns on her desk.

"Nervous habit," she explained when she caught me looking. "I’m Jana."

"Lukas."

"First time applying?"

I nodded.

"Me too. My brother washed out twice. He said the ethics section is a total killer—all those no-win scenarios designed to mess with your head."

"Good to know."

More students took their seats. The room now held about two hundred people, all between eighteen and twenty-one by the look of them. Except me. I was the youngest at seventeen.

A man in a Halloran uniform approached the podium at the front of the room.

"Attention, applicants. The written examination will begin in five minutes. The test consists of four sections: Hero Law, Crisis Ethics, Tactical Reasoning, and Aspect Theory. You have four hours to complete all sections. The tablets on your desks will activate when the exam begins. Any attempt to access external information or communicate with other applicants will result in immediate disqualification."

He continued explaining the rules while I surveyed the room. The competition looked serious. Most had the confident posture of people who’d been training for this their entire lives.

Meanwhile, I was a transmigrant with a gacha system who’d been manifested for all of two months. But I had an edge they couldn’t possibly account for. My Intelligence wasn’t just ’high.’ It was sixty-three, thirteen points past the ceiling of what was supposedly human.

The proctor finished his instructions. "The examination begins now."