My Scumbag System Chapter 470: Breeding Habits and Battle Plans
Previously on My Scumbag System...
Just as I was about to concoct some plausible excuse, Maki transformed, shifting into a compact ball of fluffy black fur, exuding an air of pure innocence. She settled gracefully on the kitchen counter, her twin tails flicking with an aloof elegance, the very image of a well-behaved feline companion.
"Just Bartholomew and I were engaged in some quality bonding time," I declared.
A prolonged, disbelieving silence emanated from the other side of the door.
Then, the distinct sound of footsteps receding down the hall, each step laden with undeniable skepticism.
I held my breath, listening until the sounds faded completely, counting to thirty in my head to ensure she wasn't lurking nearby.
"That was a terrifyingly close call," I muttered.
With a satisfied little wiggle, Maki shifted back to her human form, clearly pleased with her performance.
"The purple-haired one is exceptionally possessive of Master's attention and time. I find her quite appealing. She exhibits excellent territorial instincts, much like a cat. I approve of her as a potential primary mate choice." Maki's eyes, glowing like molten gold under the bathroom's harsh fluorescent light, held mine. "So is this one, though. But I am willing to share Master's affections and breeding opportunities, as Master has proven himself worthy of such contention. This is a significant compliment, Master should feel honored."
"You're not fighting anyone. Ever. That's a direct order."
"Yet," she countered, a grin splitting her face, revealing far too many teeth. "Master said 'yet.' That implies future authorization. I shall record this conversation for future legal reference."
Before I could retort, she transformed again, reverting to her innocent cat persona.
Technically, progress had been made.
I quickly dressed, grabbing the first clean, functional clothes I could find: black joggers that had miraculously survived three days of grueling training, a gray hoodie that was more of a comfort blanket than a fashion item, and shoes sturdy enough to withstand a desperate flight for survival.
The cat followed me downstairs, her twin tails swaying in perfect unison, radiating an air of smug triumph.
The common room teemed with activity.
Apparently, everyone had returned from their afternoon errands, transforming the space into a scene of controlled chaos that, miraculously, hadn't erupted into outright brawls.
Raphael lounged on the main sofa, engaged in a heated debate with Marco and Malachi, a discussion that would likely culminate in significant property damage later. In the corner, Jaime was performing push-ups, as usual – the man utilized every available surface for his workouts. Juan, leaning against the wall, had somehow managed to nap standing up, a testament to his sheer willpower and determination to avoid group activities.
Isabelle sat poised on the armrest, like a queen observing her boisterous court, engrossed in her tablet with an intensity that suggested either critical research or an indulgence in highly sensational romance novels. The savvy bet was on both.
Hikari spotted me and her entire face lit up, her golden retriever-like enthusiasm a blend of endearing and alarming.
"Satori! You're alive! You made it! Akari told me you fought a Hydra-Lich armed with only a baseball bat and sheer nerve!"
"Just a typical Tuesday," I replied, attempting to downplay the outrageousness of it all.
"That's incredibly awesome!" Her grip on my arm was like enthusiastic steel, nearly dislocating my shoulder. "You have to teach me how to fight giant, multi-headed undead monstrosities! Please, please, please!"
"Perhaps later. Once I'm not facing imminent death in three days."
"Promise?"
"Absolutely. We can schedule your monster-slaying lessons right after my funeral."
She then enveloped me in what she likely intended as a friendly hug, but felt more like being crushed by a hydraulic press. My ribs emitted an ominous creak. Releasing me, she bounced back to the sofa, apparently satisfied with the arrangement.
From the kitchen, Emi emerged, laden with enough food to sustain a small army or one particularly high-strung university student: pancakes, scrambled eggs, bacon, toast, hash browns, and three varieties of jam. Her stress-induced culinary endeavors indicated her anxiety about Wednesday had reached a fever pitch.
"Satori! You must eat right away!" She shoved a heavily laden plate into my hands with an assertive maternal force that left no room for refusal. "You barely consumed anything yesterday!"
"I ate. That sandwich was perfectly sufficient."
"A single sandwich is hardly adequate nutrition for someone preparing to face an A-Rank prodigy!"
At that moment, Skylar appeared at my elbow, seemingly summoned by the scent of impending drama and breakfast delicacies.
"She began cooking at six this morning," she stated with her usual lack of emotion.
"It’s barely eight."
"Precisely." Skylar unashamedly snatched a piece of bacon from my plate. "Some people deal with intense anxiety through music or meditation. Emi channels hers into creating an overwhelming amount of carbohydrates. We all find our own ways to cope."
Celeste was seated at the dining table, Noah a silent and vigilant guardian behind her chair, as always. Monica occupied a corner, engaged in a hushed conversation with Ferdinand, punctuated by numerous hand gestures and expressions of concern. Akari reclined on the loveseat, meticulously filing her nails with an air of casualness that couldn't quite mask the tension in her shoulders.
Natalia stood by the window, arms crossed, her gaze fixed on me. Her intense purple eyes seemed capable of piercing through any defense I attempted to erect. The white streaks in her hair caught the morning light, lending her an appearance that was simultaneously otherworldly and perilous.
I moved across the room towards her, navigating through the gathered individuals and ongoing discussions.
"Hey."
"Hey to you too." She turned slightly, not fully facing me but acknowledging my approach. "You gambled with the gacha last night. Don’t even think about denying it."
"How on earth did you find out?"
"You have that particular expression. The one you get when you’ve committed a monumentally reckless act and are now awaiting the potentially catastrophic consequences." Her hand reached for mine, fingers intertwining with practiced fluidity. "I’m starting to recognize your patterns."
"It turned out alright, mostly. No explosions, at least not yet."
"This time, it worked out." Her grip tightened subtly. "Next time, you’ll consult me before embarking on some foolish endeavor."
"So you can dissuade me from it?"
"So I can be there in person when it inevitably goes awry, and I have to rescue you." She paused, a softer expression momentarily gracing her features. "Once again."
I squeezed her hand, my thumb stroking across her knuckles.
The moment was abruptly interrupted by Braxton’s entrance. He looked utterly ravaged, like a ghost haunting a diner. Carmen followed close behind, her flask already open and astonishingly half-empty for this early hour.
"Alright, listen up, you miserable lot," Braxton declared, his voice like grinding stones cutting through the various conversations. "The tournament commences in precisely four weeks. That gives you twenty-eight days to cease being a walking disgrace to my teaching and this guild’s esteemed reputation."
"We are currently holding the first-place position," Raphael interjected, his tone laced with his typical confrontational defensiveness.