My Scumbag System Chapter 456: If You Can Fight Hydras, You Can Do Burpees

The ferry trip back to the Atoll dragged on far longer than normal.

Engine problems of some kind.

This left me stuck for an extra forty-five minutes sandwiched between Natalia and Celeste, desperately trying to push aside thoughts of Reyna Cabana's duel challenge.

In three days.

At the Crucible.

Where the whole world would see me get demolished by the Crimson Comet in person.

Just perfect.

"You’re spiraling," Natalia remarked, eyes fixed on her phone.

"I’m not spiraling."

"Your jaw’s doing that thing."

"What thing?"

"The thing where you grind your teeth when you’re scheming something idiotic."

Celeste glanced across.

Spotted my jaw.

Returned to her tablet silently.

But her lips quirked.

Faintly.

The tiniest trace of a grin.

I made myself unwind.

"I’m fine."

"Liar."

"I’m excellent."

"Worse."

Natalia at last turned to me.

Her purple gaze scanning each tiny facial shift.

White strands in her hair gleamed in the afternoon sun filtering through the ferry windows.

Giving her an otherworldly, perilous vibe.

"Reyna’s fast," she noted. "Faster than anyone we’ve battled except maybe Braxton. And her Aspect counters yours."

"I know."

"Her marionettes can trap you while she strikes from afar. You’ll never close the distance to land a blow."

"I know."

"So what’s your plan?"

I hadn’t devised one yet.

But confessing that would only heighten her worry.

"Still working on it."

She fixed me with a stare for three solid seconds.

Then resumed scrolling her phone.

"You’re going to pull something reckless."

"Probably."

"And I’ll have to witness it."

"You could stay home."

Her hand slipped to my thigh beneath the coat over our laps.

Squeezed with bruising force.

"Try again."

"You could cheer for me from the stands."

"Better."

The ferry at last pulled into the dock.

We shuffled off amid the crowd, Noah forging ahead as Celeste clung to my other flank.

The trek back to Onyx House seemed to stretch endlessly.

Likely since each footfall hammered home that only three days remained to devise a way to survive against a foe who could solo most C-Rank Gates before breakfast.

Braxton lounged on the front steps.

Synth-cigarette hanging from his mouth.

Gaze like a stern dad at a PTA gathering.

"You fought an A-Rank Boss."

"Technically yes."

"With a baseball bat."

"It’s a very good bat."

"You’re an idiot."

"Also yes."

He rose.

Arched his back with a loud pop.

"Training at 1900. Don’t be late."

"We just got back from—"

"1900. Sharp. If you can fight Hydras, you can do burpees."

He headed inside.

Carmen poked her head from the doorway behind, flask clutched in hand.

"Welcome back, heroes. Try not to bleed on the carpet this time."

The house felt unusually hushed.

Most of the team lingered on the mainland.

Just the lingerers stayed behind.

Juan dozed on the couch even though lunch had just passed.

Jacob hunched at the dining table, hammering his datapad with frenzied vigor that signaled a fresh conspiracy rabbit hole.

Monica huddled by the window corner, murmuring to a potted fern sprouting copper leaves since her Arboretum return.

The girl now held complete chats with plants.

I couldn’t decide if that worried or helped.

Probably both.

Skylar perched on the kitchen counter, legs dangling, munching an apple while thumbing her phone.

Her violet eyes darted to me as I stepped in.

Lingered a moment.

Then flicked back to the screen.

Yet her face softened.

A warmer glow under the typical apathy.

Emi bustled from the kitchen with a tray of sandwiches, blue hair in a sloppy ponytail, antenna strands swaying per step.

She saw me.

Her face burst into radiance.

"Satori! You’re okay!"

She plunked the tray on the coffee table, almost stumbling over Juan’s foot, and dashed across in three swift strides.

Hugged me out of nowhere.

Arms circling my waist, cheek buried in my chest.

I met Natalia’s gaze over Emi’s shoulder.

She observed.

Assessing.

But held back.

Just nodded toward the stairs in quiet directive.

"Missed you too, Emi."

She drew away, cheeks flushed pink.

"Was it scary? The Hydra?"

"Little bit."

"Liar. Marco texted me. He said it breathed fire and lightning and ice and nearly killed everyone."

"Marco exaggerates."

"He sent pictures."

Damn.

"Okay, it was very scary. Happy?"

She nodded.

Grinned.

That ridiculously sincere grin that twisted something in my chest.

"I made sandwiches. You should eat."

"I will. Later."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

Content, she headed back to the kitchen.

Skylar caught my eye.

She mouthed what appeared to be a curse.

I gave her the middle finger.

Her grin widened.

Up in my room, everything stayed precisely as I had left it.

That made it resemble a total disaster area.

The sheets lay twisted from the chaos of last night.

Clothes lay strewn everywhere on the floor.

Bartholomew stared at me quietly from inside his terrarium.

And there was Maki.

In human shape.

Lounging naked across my bed.

She seemed to have been asleep.

Black locks spread over the pillow, one tail wrapped snugly around her waist like a cover, the other trailing off the bed's edge.

Her ears flicked at the sound of the door closing.

Hazel eyes slowly opened.

Slit pupils shrank against the brightness.

"Master’s home."

She stretched languidly.

The motion was utterly provocative.

Intentionally so.

She was perfectly aware of the effect.

"You were supposed to stay out of sight."

"I did stay out of sight. Nobody came in here except Bartholomew. And he doesn’t count."

"Put on clothes."

"Why? You’re just going to take them off again."

"Maki."

"Fine, fine."

She slid off the bed with catlike poise.

Spotted my hoodie on the floor.

Slipped it on over her bare skin.

The hoodie hardly covered her body.

It reached only to mid-thigh, exposing her legs fully.

"Better?"

"Marginally."

She glided closer, her bare feet making no sound on the hardwood.

She molded her body to my chest.

Her arms encircled my waist.

She purred contentedly.

The deep rumble vibrated through us both.

"Missed you, Master."

"I was gone for three hours."

"Three hours is forever when you’re trapped in a room with only a snail for company. No offense, Bartholomew."