My Scumbag System Chapter 465: My Ribs for a Thirty-Second Buff

Maki’s purr grew louder, her body practically humming with self-satisfaction. The little creature was fully aware of her actions—playing the part of an innocent cat while secretly cataloging which of my women she could most easily influence.

"I need to train," I stated, forcing my attention onto the crucial task of preparing for Wednesday's duel.

"Against whom?"

"Whoever is foolish enough to volunteer."

"Raphael is in the gym. He started hitting the heavy bag at four this morning." Celeste’s fingers found the perfect spot behind Maki’s ears, an action that transformed the deadly supernatural predator into a puddle of pure bliss. "Braxton mentioned something about excessive energy and concerns regarding property damage."

Excellent.

Raphael’s strikes would be powerful enough to properly test Kinetic Absorption. If I could withstand his Kinetic Overcharge punches, I would likely be able to handle most of what Reyna would throw at me.

"Thanks," I replied.

I turned towards the hallway that led to the basement gym.

"Satori."

I paused, glancing back over my shoulder.

Celeste’s periwinkle eyes met mine, and for an instant, the carefully projected warmth vanished. In its place was something sharper, more possessive.

"Do not get injured before Wednesday. I wish for you to be alive for the duel."

"I cannot make any promises."

"Then offer me a falsehood."

"I will be alright."

A small, private smile touched her lips, meant solely for me.

"Better."

I left her there with Maki, two formidable beings feigning harmlessness, basking in the morning light as if they lacked fangs.

The basement gym carried the scent of sweat, combat, and the distinct, sharp tang of ozone, indicative of someone pushing their Aspect to its absolute limit.

Raphael was precisely where Celeste had said he would be.

Without his shirt, naturally.

His body was slick with a sheen of sweat, accentuating muscles that appeared sculpted from bronze, each one defined with a clarity achieved through either sheer genetic fortune or relentless dedication.

Likely a combination of both.

His fists impacted the heavy bag with a relentless rhythm, each blow resonating through the space like the rumble of distant thunder.

THUD.

THUD.

THUD.

Every strike sent tremors through the chain suspending the bag overhead, the metal links clattering under the immense strain.

The bag began to swing erratically on its axis, a chaotic pendulum created by the interplay of physics and brute force.

It swung back towards him.

He struck it again.

This time with even greater force, golden energy flaring around his knuckles.

It was as if he intended to destroy it.

As if the bag had personally slighted him and he was determined to exact retribution.

"Raphael," I called out.

He caught the bag mid-swing with both hands, his muscles straining as he halted its momentum.

He turned to face me.

His amber eyes were red-rimmed and wild, the unmistakable sign of someone deprived of sleep, using violence as a substitute for rest.

"What," he said tonelessly, omitting the question mark.

"Spar with me."

His expression cycled rapidly through a series of emotions—surprise at my direct approach, suspicion regarding my intentions, followed by a flicker of what could only be described as predatory interest.

"Are you certain? You are still recovering from the Hydra encounter. I observed you limping yesterday."

"I will survive."

"Your demise." His grin displayed an excess of teeth and sheer challenge, the look of a man who had been anticipating an excuse to strike something capable of striking back. "The rules?"

"No holding back. If I cannot endure this, I have no business facing Reyna in the ring on Wednesday."

A flash of approval crossed his features, transforming his typically aggressive sneer into something verging on respect.

"Finally showing some backbone, Nakano."

"I always possessed it. I was merely selective in my conflicts."

"Is that so?" He audibly cracked his neck, the sound sharp and deliberate. "Demonstrate it."

We moved to the central mat—a worn, padded area that had witnessed innumerable spars, stained with the residue of old blood and sweat that resisted all attempts at complete cleaning.

No padding.

No protective gear.

Absolutely no safety equipment.

Simply two individuals preparing to inflict severe damage upon one another at six in the morning, because that was the Hunter's way of seeking self-improvement.

Raphael activated his Aspect first, golden energy coalescing around his fists like brilliant miniature suns.

Kinetic Overcharge accumulated with each passing moment, storing potential energy destined to erupt outward with his subsequent blow.

I refrained from activating any Abilities yet.

My intention was to observe Kinetic Absorption’s effectiveness against an entirely unimpeded strike—no Shade Cloak, no Steel Body, nothing to dilute the data gathered.

"Are you going to defend yourself or simply stand there looking attractive?" Raphael inquired, rotating his shoulders.

"Strike me."

"A regrettable decision, my friend."

"Proceed."

He gave a shrug, a gesture conveying his intent more effectively than any words could.

Then, he moved like lightning.

Far quicker than I had anticipated, even accounting for his known capabilities.

His fist impacted my ribs with the precision of a guided missile finding its intended target.

The exact spot where the regeneration brace had been fitted the previous day was now the target, likely because he had observed my preference for that side.

The impact felt like a colossal hammer strike infused with lightning and the unforgiving laws of physics.

Agonizing pain surged through my torso, immediate and piercing.

Physics dictated that my body should be flung backward toward the concrete wall at its maximum velocity.

However, before I could complete this aerial trajectory, Kinetic Absorption activated.

Fifteen percent of the incoming force simply… ceased to exist.

It was absorbed directly into my very cellular structure.

This absorbed force was then converted into raw power with an almost mechanical efficiency.

A notification glowed brightly in my vision, appearing instantly:

[TEMPORARY BUFF ACQUIRED: +5% STRENGTH, +5% AGILITY | DURATION: 30 SECONDS]

Mid-flight, I managed to arrest my movement with a controlled twist of my core, altering my momentum.

I landed squarely on my feet.

My shoes scraped against the mat, sliding back about three meters.

But I remained upright.

I wasn't plastered against the wall.

I wasn't shattered.

I was standing.

Raphael’s eyes widened, his previously aggressive confidence faltering, replaced by genuine astonishment.

"What the hell?"

"Again," I stated, bringing myself fully upright.

"You're insane."

"Probably. Hit me again."

He lunged forward, but this time, I evaded—allowing his fist to narrowly miss my jaw, close enough that I could feel the intense heat from his Aspect, the golden energy whizzing past my face by mere centimeters.

As he overextended, I retaliated with a direct punch to his abdomen.

No Aspect was activated for this strike.

It was pure physics, honed technique, and the five percent strength buff that resulted from his initial hit.

Raphael gasped, a sound mixed with surprise and pain.

He staggered back a single step, his eyes wide with disbelief.

"You got faster."

"Keep up," I retorted, already preparing my next move.

For the following ten minutes, we exchanged blows, settling into a brutal rhythm that was a hybrid of sparring and a mutual attempt at annihilation.

Every strike he landed served as fuel for Kinetic Absorption, feeding it like coal into a roaring furnace.

The buffs accumulated with unerring mathematical precision.

With each clash, my movements grew more refined.

My reflexes sharpened, my neural pathways optimizing themselves in real-time.

By the eighth minute, I was matching his every strike.

By the tenth minute, it was evident that I had surpassed him in speed.

Raphael perceived this change as well, his expression transitioning from aggressive bravado to intense concentration.

He stopped holding back his punches.

He began to fight with genuine intent, as if this were a serious threat assessment rather than a casual morning training session.

A spinning kick connected with my shoulder with enough force to shatter the joints of most individuals.

I absorbed the kinetic energy, feeling its transformation.

Redirecting the stored momentum, I unleashed it in a palm strike to his chest, releasing all that accumulated power in a single, explosive impact.

He was propelled backward as if struck by a speeding vehicle.

The force of his impact with the mat caused the concrete beneath the padding to crack.

He lay there, breathing heavily, his gaze fixed on the ceiling as though seeing it for the very first time.

"What in the blazes did you have for breakfast?" he wheezed.

"Nothing yet."

"Bullshit." He pushed himself up onto his elbows, faint golden energy still shimmering around his hands. "You're not this strong. You were barely keeping pace with me last week. Now you're..." He shook his head. "What changed?"