My Scumbag System Chapter 521: The Sound a Prince Makes When He Breaks

Julian charged me again, both fists burning with purple fire now. His technique had abandoned anything resembling discipline. Just raw power and desperate fury.

I met him head-on.

Our collision sent shockwaves across the entire platform, making the crowd lean back in their seats. His Quantum Disruption tried to tear me apart at the subatomic level, but Kinetic Absorption grabbed every ounce of force he threw and stuffed it into my temporary stat pool.

Plus twenty to Strength. Plus twenty to Agility.

My next swing came faster.

Harder.

The bat connected with his armored shoulder, and his expensive golden pauldron crumpled like aluminum foil. He screamed, more from rage than pain, and tried to grab me in a grapple.

Bad idea.

I dropped low, hooked his ankle with my boot, and yanked.

Julian went down face-first, his hands slapping the platform with a sound that echoed across the arena.

The crowd lost their collective minds.

I didn’t give him time to recover. Pressed my boot between his shoulder blades, pinning him flat.

"Yield."

"Never," he gasped into the metal, his voice muffled but still carrying enough venom to kill small animals. "I’ll never yield to you. Never acknowledge you. You’re nothing. Less than nothing."

I leaned down, pressing harder, feeling his ribs compress under my weight. "Then stay down there and think about it."

Purple energy exploded outward from his body in a desperate burst.

The Quantum Disruption hit me point-blank, trying to rip apart every atom in my body simultaneously. Reality itself went fuzzy at the edges, and for half a second I felt like I was being pulled in seventeen different directions at once.

Kinetic Absorption screamed.

Steel Body activated on pure instinct.

My skin turned diamond-hard, and suddenly the cosmic blender trying to liquefy my internal organs bounced off harmlessly. I stayed standing, boot still planted between Julian’s shoulders, as his desperate attack fizzled and died against my invulnerability.

Ten seconds of being absolutely untouchable.

I used three of them to grab Julian by his stupid golden collar and haul him upright.

Used another two to throw him across the platform like he weighed nothing.

He hit the railing hard enough to dent it, his armor clanging against metal with a sound that made everyone in the front row wince.

Steel Body wore off.

The pain from his earlier hits came rushing back all at once, nearly dropping me to my knees. My ribs felt like someone had replaced them with broken glass. The regenerator brace’s hum became a whine, struggling to keep everything together.

But I stayed standing.

Always standing.

Julian pulled himself up using the railing, his breath coming in ragged gasps. Purple blood ran from his mouth where he’d bitten his own tongue. His perfect hair hung in his eyes, matted with sweat and dust.

He looked at me with an expression I’d seen before.

On weak men who realized they’d picked a fight they couldn’t win.

On yakuza lieutenants right before Kaelen pulled the trigger.

On the original Satori, right before the System shoved me into his worthless body.

Pure, distilled terror.

"This isn’t over," Julian wheezed, trying to summon his Aspect again. But his energy reserves were tapped. The purple fire around his fists sputtered and died, leaving only ordinary flesh and expensive gauntlets. "You can’t—I won’t—"

"You already have," I said quietly, and there was something almost sad about it. "The moment you froze in the Necropolis while your team died. The moment you pushed Monica toward that monster to save yourself. You lost then, Julian. This is just making it official."

He lunged at me one last time.

No Aspect. No technique. Just a desperate, clumsy haymaker thrown by someone who’d never had to truly fight for anything in his entire pampered life.

I caught his fist in my palm.

Squeezed.

His gauntlet crumpled, and I felt the bones underneath start to protest.

"Yield," I said again, and this time it wasn’t a suggestion.

Julian’s eyes went wide, then wider, as I tightened my grip. His breath hitched. Something in his hand gave a warning crack.

"I yield," he gasped, the words torn from his throat like I’d physically ripped them out. "I yield! Let go!"

I released him.

He collapsed to his knees, cradling his crushed hand against his chest.

The referee’s voice cut through the sudden silence. "Julian Valerius yields! Victory to Satori Nakano and Isabelle Okoye!"

The arena exploded.

Twenty thousand people screaming my name until the sound became a physical presence, pressing against my damaged ribs and making my ears ring. Somewhere in the VIP section, I heard Natalia’s distinctive war cry cutting through the chaos, sharp and cold and absolutely triumphant.

I looked up at the stands and found her.

She stood with both fists raised, frost spreading across the entire row of seats around her. Her purple eyes blazed, and the white streaks in her hair glowed like captured moonlight.

My queen.

Beside her, Cel watched with one hand pressed to her chest, her expression caught between pride and worry. Emi bounced so hard she nearly fell over the railing, her healing aura pulsing around her in waves of excited green light. Skylar leaned against the wall with her arms crossed, but I caught her small, satisfied smirk. And Akari had both hands in the air, screaming something I couldn’t quite make out but probably involved money and betting pools.

Five disasters.

Five soul bonds.

Five reasons I’d just broken a boy’s hand in front of the entire country.

Isabelle appeared at my side, not even breathing hard despite her extended fight with Aaron. The big guy was down on one knee, conscious but clearly done fighting. She’d worn him out with patience and precision, using his own momentum against him until he had nothing left.

"That was excessive," she observed, gesturing toward Julian’s crumpled form.

"That was necessary."

Her wine-red eyes studied me with unreadable intensity. "You enjoyed it."

"Maybe a little."

She made a sound that might have been disapproval or might have been understanding, then extended her hand. I took it, and we walked off the platform together as the crowd continued their deafening celebration.

Julian stayed on his knees.

Aaron helped him up eventually, but Julian shrugged him off violently, stumbling toward the exit tunnel alone. His shoulders shook with either rage or something worse.

I didn’t watch him go.

I was already focused on the next problem.

Natalia’s match against Reyna.

The one fight that genuinely scared me.