My Scumbag System Chapter 491: How to Go from Zero to Hero

Julian’s gaze was fixed upon the rankings board adorning the far wall of the Argent Sentinels’ common area, its magically enhanced display showing cold, unfeeling numbers. His jaw was clamped so firmly that the muscles in his neck smarted, and a persistent ache throbbed in his molars from how tightly he’d been clenching them.

1. Onyx Hounds - 947 points

2. Argent Sentinels - 601 points

3. Scarlet Phantoms - 589 points

4. Cobalt Vipers - 523 points

5. Verdant Strikers - 412 points

They had fallen in rank.

From the coveted first position down to second within merely one month, their seven-year reign was disintegrating like sandcastles against the relentless surge of the ocean. And it was all because of him.

That street scavenger. That walking calamity. That absolute pest with his absurd baseball bat and that infuriating, smug grin plastered across every hallway imaginable.

"Julian."

The voice emerged from the doorway, slicing through his spiraling thoughts as cleanly as a blade through silk.

He spun around abruptly, his movement stiff with tension, to find Professor Anya Petrova standing in the entrance. She was silhouetted against the afternoon sunlight streaming from the hallway, her silver-blonde hair pulled back into her signature severe bun, which only served to accentuate her sharp, austere features. She was clad in her customary white suit, impeccably tailored with military precision, but today, her pale blue eyes—usually detached and analytical—held a new emotion. Something harder. Sharper. More menacing.

"Professor," he managed, forcing his voice to remain steady despite the acidic turmoil churning in his gut.

"Walk with me."

It was not a suggestion. It was never a suggestion when Professor Petrova adopted that particular tone, the one that permitted no dissent and tolerated no delay.

He followed her down the pristine, marble-tiled corridors of the Sentinel dormitory, the sound of his expensive leather shoes clicking in rhythm with her measured, unhurried pace. They passed display cases brimming with glittering awards from past tournaments, their brass plaques bearing the names of champions long since graduated. They passed framed portraits of distinguished alumni who had ascended to join the most elite guilds in Valoria, their smiling faces captured in victorious moments. They passed every symbol that represented what the Argent Sentinels were meant to embody, what they had perpetually been.

Flawless. Unrivaled.

Invincible.

Professor Petrova guided him towards her private office situated at the corridor's end, a chamber Julian had only entered twice before—once upon his initial acceptance into the guild, and again following his disastrous performance at the VHC Gala. She opened the heavy oak door with a gentle push, then stepped aside, allowing him to enter first before closing it behind him with a soft, definitive click that sounded strangely ominous in the sudden quiet.

"Sit," she commanded, indicating one of the leather chairs facing her large, impeccably organized desk.

He complied, his posture unwavering, his hands resting precisely in his lap to conceal the faint tremble in his fingers.

Professor Petrova remained standing for a considerable moment, her hands clasped behind her back in a military 'at-ease' stance. She moved first to the window, her gaze sweeping over the Academy grounds below, where students were dispersed across the lawns between classes. The silence deepened, deliberate and heavy, until Julian could feel his pulse roaring in his ears.

At last, she turned to face him.

"We need to address the current situation," she stated, her voice even and calm, yet underscored by a frigidity capable of freezing blood.

"I am aware that we have fallen in the rankings," Julian began, eager to preempt whatever reprimand was forthcoming. "However, I have already initiated a new training regimen, and if we concentrate our efforts on the upcoming—"

"This is not about the rankings," she interjected, her tone as sharp and precise as a surgical instrument.

Julian’s mouth clamped shut unceremoniously.

"This concerns the systematic dismantling of everything I have established over the past seven years," Professor Petrova continued, her pale eyes piercing him with laser-like intensity. "This is about the slow-motion implosion of the most prestigious guild at New Vein Academy, and the complete and total failure of its leadership to prevent it."

Julian felt a hot flush creep across his face. "Professor, I—"

"Within the span of two months," she interrupted once more, raising a perfectly manicured finger. "We have seen Kenjiro Kobayashi defect to the Cobalt Vipers." A second finger. "Lost Monica Von Astrom to the Onyx Hounds." A third. "Lost Celeste Vance—the , the most valuable prospect in the entire first-year cohort—also to the Onyx Hounds."

She let her hand fall, and the soft sound of it striking her thigh seemed to echo loudly in the hushed office.

"Three of our most promising recruits," she stated, her voice now possessed of a dangerous softness, "are gone. Poached. Pilfered right from under my nose by a guild that was meant to be nothing more than a refuge for failures and outcasts."

"Kobayashi opted to transfer himself," Julian weakly countered. "We can't compel individuals to remain if they—"

"Every one of them made a choice," Professor Petrova declared, finally moving from her vantage point by the window to circle behind her desk. She did not immediately take a seat, instead standing with her hands planted firmly on the polished wood, leaning forward slightly. "And every single one of those decisions guided them toward the same destination. Toward the same individual."

A deliberate pause followed, allowing the name to hover, unvoiced, in the space between them.

Julian's hands instinctively balled into fists.

"Satori Nakano," she finally uttered, her tone now flat and dispassionate, as if discussing a particularly virulent plague.

The name descended upon the room, heavy and suffocating like toxic gas.

Professor Petrova finally lowered herself into her high-backed chair, her movements precise and controlled, reminiscent of someone meticulously positioning each limb, each syllable, each breath for maximum effect.

"I have thoroughly examined his records," she continued, resting her folded hands on the desk before her. "His entrance examination results. The footage from his combat trials. His Gate clearance documentation. His performance in yesterday's sparring session against Reyna Cabana." She tilted her head marginally, her gaze studying him intently. "This is a youth who only recently manifested his Aspect. Who possessed no discernible power mere months ago. Who, according to all official records, was a Zero."

"And now he holds the top rank among our entire cohort," Julian finished, the words bitter, tasting like ashes upon his tongue.

"Precisely." Professor Petrova's fingers tapped once, then twice, against the smooth surface of her desk—a rare indication of agitation from a woman who prided herself on maintaining absolute composure. "Tell me, Julian. In all your studies of Aspect theory and the annals of Hunter history, how does an individual ascend from Zero to hero within the span of half a year?"

Julian swallowed with difficulty. "Intensive training? Unwavering dedication? Perhaps he's simply... naturally gifted once his power finally emerged?"

"Or perhaps," she countered, her voice descending to a volume that was both quieter and infinitely more menacing, "he is actively deceiving everyone around him."