My Scumbag System Chapter 497: My Soul on the Betting Slip

A low whistle escaped my lips. "That's a considerable amount of power."

"Indeed," Nike replied.

"Which implies the penalty for failure will be just as devastating, doesn't it?"

Nike's smile took on a sharp edge. "Perceptive."

[Failure Penalties:]

Loss of 1,000 Schema Points

All Ensemble bonds drop by one rank

Permanent Title: [The Pretender] - Combat abilities permanently reduced by 15%. Enemies instinctively recognize you as a false threat.

Nike’s Curse: For one full year, you will taste defeat in your mouth before every battle. Your confidence will waver. Your allies will doubt. Victory will feel like ash even when you achieve it.

I sank back onto my bed, the immense gravity of the quest pressing down on me like a sodden cloak.

"This isn't solely about the tournament, is it?" I mused, piecing things together. "You're evaluating if I'm worthy of your long-term commitment. If I possess the capability to achieve what I've proclaimed – to forge an empire, to ascend to significance."

"Partially," Nike conceded, moving towards the window, her wings shimmering in the moonlight. "But it also serves as a declaration. To Seraphina. To the VHC. To all those who presume they can dictate your actions, anticipate your moves, or manipulate you as a mere pawn."

She turned to face me, her gaze radiating an intensity that could vaporize steel.

"Tomorrow, when you enter that arena, your fight transcends mere rankings. You're battling to demonstrate that power disregards lineage. That an individual from Graystone Park, armed with naught but a cudgel and a belligerent disposition, can stand shoulder-to-shoulder with princesses, prodigies, and scions of privilege who've been coddled since birth."

My thoughts drifted to Natalia. Her expression during the Crucible match, the stark pallor of her face as Reyna’s puppets relentlessly battered me. Her fervent vow to end me herself should I perish.

I recalled Emi, weeping into my chest, imploring me to sire her child, placing her unshakeable faith in me despite my acknowledged monstrous nature.

I remembered Skylar, her kiss a blend of rage and desperation, seeing through every deception yet choosing to remain, drawn to my raw, albeit reprehensible, honesty.

I thought of Cel, asleep against me last night, finally appearing human, not a tool of politics. Her whisper of my name, akin to a prayer, entrusting me with her fragility.

And Akari, who proclaimed her desire to bear my offspring as a testament to her own prowess, transforming every interaction into a competition yet infusing it with a curious sincerity.

Not to mention the seventeen others downstairs who had repeatedly followed me into the abyss, persuaded by my conviction that victory was attainable.

"If I accept this quest and falter," I stated softly, "the repercussions extend beyond myself. They would shatter everyone who placed their trust in me. Natalia would be demoted from Covenant to Subjugated. Emi would lose the sole source of her perceived uniqueness. The entire guild would crumble."

"Precisely."

"That's a monumental risk."

Nike's smile softened, returning with a gentler mien. "The pursuit of victory is perpetually fraught with risk. That very essence distinguishes champions from mere pretenders. Champions stake their all on their own potential and emerge triumphant. Pretenders, conversely, diversify their risks only to question the persistent taste of defeat."

I rose once more, walking to join her by the window. Below, the Academy grounds lay shrouded in darkness, interspersed with the distant glow of lights from other dormitories. Somewhere within those structures, Julian was likely devising seventeen distinct tactics for my humiliation. Petrova was probably scrutinizing surveillance feeds. Seraphina was contemplating my utility versus my threat level.

And tomorrow, I would be compelled to prove them all mistaken.

Or perish in the attempt.

"The bonus objective," I inquired, re-examining the quest parameters. "Personally vanquishing Julian in a one-on-one duel during the finals. You are operating under the assumption that we will reach the finals."

"I am assuming you will," Nike corrected, her tone unwavering. "Because if you do not, you will either be deceased or broken, rendering this entire discourse utterly irrelevant."

A valid point.

My gaze fell upon Bartholomew, who had finished his repast of lettuce and now slumbered peacefully within his castle. The snail harbored no anxieties regarding cosmic quests or divine expectations. His existence was simple, assured by his inherent immortality, unfettered by the world's burdens.

Such tranquility must be envied.

"What exactly does Unbreakable Will accomplish?" I queried, reasoning that if I were to pledge my allegiance to another deity, understanding the terms of the pact was prudent.

Nike's expression metamorphosed, taking on a semblance of reverence.

"It renders you impervious to psychological manipulation, mental assaults, fear-inducing effects, and any Aspect abilities that target your psyche or resolve. Any entity attempting to subjugate your spirit through supernatural means will find their efforts futile. Utterly and permanently."

She drew nearer, and I noted her height brought us nearly eye-to-eye. Her voice lowered, adopting an intimate, almost clandestine tone,

"This implies that no one—not Apollo, not Aphrodite, not even Zeus himself—can ever force a quest upon you again. You would possess true free will. True agency. The capacity to dismiss even the Author."

Nel's presence flickered with apprehension. "Be cautious."

Yet, Nike merely chuckled. "She is already aware of my presence. She granted permission for this visit." Her gaze, as golden as molten sunlight, locked onto mine. "The critical question is whether you possess the courage to accept. Can you face those failure penalties and still affirm your decision?"

My mind drifted to Kaelen. To the person I once was. The enforcer who had navigated the treacherous depths of Tokyo's underworld by staking everything on fleeting moments, by committing fully when the prospects seemed bleakest.

I reflected on the original Satori, the pitiable child whose body I now inhabited. How he had yearned for everything yet lacked the fortitude for anything.

And I considered the entity I had evolved into. A composite of both, forged through sheer defiance. A being that confronted insurmountable odds with a defiant grin.

"If I agree to this," I stated, "you are essentially asking me to become a marked target. To advertise my vulnerability and invite every guild to unleash their most potent assaults."

"I am requesting that you demonstrate the worthiness of the divine attention you have attracted," Nike countered. "To prove you are not merely another mortal dabbling with powers beyond their comprehension."

"And what happens if I refuse?"

"Then you are wise," she replied, adjusting her magnificent wings. "You choose the path of caution. You strive for a top-three placement rather than first place. You navigate the tournament successfully, preserve your existing connections, and live to contend another day. It is a perfectly sensible choice."