My Scumbag System Chapter 471: This Conversation Happens in Private

~5 minute read · 1,146 words
Previously on My Scumbag System...
Satori faces an imminent and dangerous trial in sixty-eight hours, and his familiar, Maki, makes a rather unconventional, if accurate, assessment of his "breeding habits" and relationships. As Satori prepares for a strategy meeting, a knock on the door reveals Natalia, who suspects Maki's presence. Later, a crowded common room buzzes with activity as friends prepare for upcoming events, discussing Satori's recent exploits and the looming tournament.

"Your top ranking is a complete fluke, stemming from institutional disarray. The Sentinels faltered because Julian’s excessive control prevents effective leadership. The Vipers are deliberately holding back, playing a long-term strategy. The Strikers pay no mind to rankings whatsoever. And the Phantoms are merely biding their time, waiting for you all to grow complacent before they strike and eliminate you in the arena when it truly counts."

"We won't become complacent."

"Excellent. Because Reyna Cabana is poised to make every one of you profoundly uncomfortable in ways beyond your comprehension." Braxton retrieved his worn tablet, swiftly navigating through its screens, a testament to the repetitive nature of this briefing. "She has officially lodged a challenge through the Academy’s proper channels. The Crucible Arena. Wednesday at 1800 hours. The entire Academy will be watching—every instructor, every administrator, and all guild recruiters currently on this island. It’s going to be an utter catastrophe."

An absolute silence descended upon the room.

Jacob’s fingers ceased their movement above his keyboard.

Juan’s eyes, usually half-closed, actually opened wide.

Even Maki stopped purring, a development that was genuinely unsettling.

"It’s an obvious ploy," Isabelle stated, her voice imbued with a clinical detachment honed by years of strategic analysis. "She’s exploiting the formal duel structure as a legitimate pretext to uncover whatever Satori is concealing from official registration. This is an intelligence-gathering mission masquerading as a personal vendetta."

"Of course, it's a damn trap." Braxton expertly lit his ever-present cigarette. "That’s precisely why all of you will ensure he doesn't meet a spectacular, televised demise."

"How?" Natalia’s tone turned icy. "Reyna has been undergoing professional S-Rank training since she was five. She has access to coaches at an Olympic level, custom professional-grade equipment, and corporate backing. Moreover, her Aspect is specifically engineered to counter close-range combatants like Satori."

"Then he should avoid close-range combat. Problem solved."

"Incredibly insightful advice, Professor. Truly pioneering tactical innovation."

Braxton’s grin was utterly savage.

"You have three days to iron out the specifics. Use this time wisely, and try not to eliminate each other during training." He pointed directly at me, his intense focus triggering my survival instincts. "You. My office. Now. This discussion needs to be private."

Wonderful.

I followed him down the corridor toward his notoriously chaotic office, carefully stepping over piles of documents and what appeared to be several weeks' worth of discarded takeout containers. He shut the door behind us with deliberate slowness, then secured it with an audible click that instantly amplified my apprehension.

He turned to face me, his expression one I had never witnessed before—serious, shrewd, and entirely stripped of his usual casual demeanor.

"You are not what you appear to be, kid."

It was not an inquiry, but a factual observation.

"No one truly is what they seem. That’s essentially the human condition."

"Don’t play games with me." He perched on the edge of his cluttered desk, the smoke from his cigarette swirling around his sharp features. "I've been handling this specific role for fifteen years. I recognize the signs of someone concealing significant power. I can sense it."

"Everyone conceals power to some extent. It's a fundamental survival tactic."

"Not like you do." He inhaled deeply, his gaze unwavering. "Your progress against that Hydra-Lich far surpassed what your officially registered statistics should permit. This morning, you absorbed Raphael’s strikes as if they were gentle caresses rather than blows that should have fractured bone. Furthermore, the combat logs from the Arboretum Gate reveal abilities that do not align with your registered Aspect classification in the slightest."

Shit. Damn it. Unbelievable.

"What is it you precisely seek from me, Professor?"

"The truth would be appreciated, for a change. A novel concept, I realize."

"I cannot provide that. Not at this moment. Perhaps never."

"Then give me something I can actually work with." He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Because currently, I have a student supposedly ranked C who is preparing to face an internationally acclaimed A-Rank prodigy. This will be witnessed by every instructor, administrator, VHC representative, and corporate guild recruiter present on this island. It will be broadcast live and permanently recorded. And if you suffer a significant defeat—which statistical probability strongly suggests is highly likely—it will cast a catastrophic shadow upon me, my teaching methodologies, and the credibility of this entire guild."

"I will not lose badly. That is my pledge."

"You sound incredibly assured for someone who ought to be quaking in their boots right now." "I’m not assured. I’m suffering from clinical delusion. There’s a significant distinction between the two." He actually let out a laugh at that—a genuine burst of surprised amusement that completely altered his features. "At least you’re transparent about your own mental condition," he remarked, extinguishing his cigarette in a cluttered ashtray. "Very well. Keep your secrets for the moment. But grasp this fundamental reality: Reyna isn't merely good. She surpasses good. She has been meticulously groomed for S-Rank status from before you could even walk. She’s undergone professional training, has corporate backing, and sophisticated media management. Furthermore, she fights with the intensity of someone who has literally never encountered defeat." "Everyone experiences defeat eventually. It's a statistical inevitability." "Not her," he countered, rising and stretching with audible cracks. "She boasts seventeen wins and zero losses in officially sanctioned competitions. Add to that eighty-three wins and zero losses in recorded practice bouts. And to this day, she has never even been knocked down. Not once. Never." The statistics carried a different weight when articulated with such finality. "So, what is your actual strategic recommendation here, Professor?" "Cheat," he stated plainly, opening the door without any preamble. "Out-cheat her. Because she most certainly will. She’s been coached by seasoned professionals who literally wrote the manual on exploiting technical flaws." I departed, my mind already rapidly analyzing potential strategies. Upon returning to the common area, a palpable tension hung in the air, with everyone present displaying varying degrees of evident worry and thinly veiled panic. The instant I reappeared, Natalia seized my arm, her grip so intense it threatened to leave bruises. "What did he say? Precisely. Every single word if at all possible." "He advised me to cheat more effectively." "That is, in fact, excellent strategic guidance." "You genuinely believe so?" "I know so," she affirmed, firmly pulling me towards the sofa and essentially forcing me to sit. "Eat, right now. Following that, we will engage in training until your body simply refuses to cooperate." "I can barely move as it is. Every part of me aches." "Then we shall compel your movement through deliberate exertion and hardship."