My Scumbag System Chapter 534: A King’s Pride and a Scumbag’s Logic

"First, you don’t take any hits you can avoid. Your Kinetic Absorption is impressive, but it’s not invincibility. Reyna hits harder than Julian, and Julian almost liquefied your internal organs."

"Fair enough."

"Second, you remember that Isabelle is your partner in this. Don’t get so focused on the lightning princess that you forget to coordinate with the woman who’s been keeping you alive."

Isabelle nods approvingly. "I appreciate being remembered as more than decorative support."

"Third," Natalia continues, her voice dropping to that dangerous register that makes smart people reconsider their life choices, "if you die because you chose pride over pragmatism, I will personally drag your ghost back from whatever afterlife claims you and murder you again. Twice."

"Noted and logged for future reference."

"I’m serious, Satori."

The way she says my name makes something twist in my chest. Not fear exactly, but recognition that this woman would actually follow through on her threats if I pushed her far enough.

"I know you are. That’s why I love you."

The words slip out before I can catch them, hanging in the air like smoke from a cigarette nobody meant to light. Emi makes a small sound that might be a squeal or might be her Aspect misfiring from emotional overload. Skylar’s eyebrows climb toward her hairline. Isabelle’s expression shifts into something that might be approval or might be her planning my funeral.

Natalia stares at me for a long moment, her purple eyes searching my face like she’s looking for signs I’m joking or lying or having some kind of mental breakdown.

"You love me," she repeats slowly.

"Apparently."

"In a medical bay. After I nearly got myself killed fighting your ex-girlfriend."

"Reyna’s not my ex-girlfriend."

"Your potential future girlfriend, then."

"Also not accurate."

"The girl you’re about to risk everything to fight because you think she’s worth proving yourself against."

I open my mouth to argue, then close it because that description is uncomfortably close to accurate and denial would just make me look like more of an idiot than I already am.

"It’s complicated," I settle on instead.

"It really isn’t," Skylar interjects with her usual brutal honesty. "You want to fight strong opponents because you have a competition fetish, and you want to fuck strong women because you have a power fetish. The psychological framework is embarrassingly simple."

"Thank you for that analysis, Dr. Freud."

"You’re welcome. Now can we focus on the part where you’re about to get electrocuted to death by a teenage girl with anger management issues?"

"She doesn’t have anger management issues. She has appropriate responses to insufficient challenges."

"Same thing with better marketing."

Emi raises her hand tentatively. "Can I say something?"

"Always."

"I think you should choose based on what makes the best story."

The statement catches me off guard enough that I actually pause to consider it instead of immediately dismissing it as naive optimism.

"Explain."

"You’re not just fighting for yourself anymore. All those people in the stands, they’re not cheering for the Onyx Hounds or the tactical advantages or the political implications. They’re cheering for the story you’re telling with your choices."

She takes a breath, gaining confidence as she finds her rhythm.

"The story of the Zero who became a King. The boy who looked at the system that rejected him and decided to break it instead of letting it break him. The Stray Dog who chose loyalty over ambition, love over safety, and courage over comfort."

"That’s surprisingly poetic for someone who runs a ramen blog."

"I read a lot of romance novels. The good stories all have the same structure. The protagonist has to choose between the easy path and the meaningful path."

"And the meaningful path is?"

"The one that scares you most."

Fuck. She’s right, and I hate that she’s right, because it means I was always going to choose Reyna regardless of the tactical considerations or the risk assessment or the logical arguments against it.

"The easy path is fighting us while we’re depleted," Natalia says quietly. "The meaningful path is fighting her at full strength."

"Which means you get to spend tomorrow watching from the stands instead of standing beside me on the platform."

"Which means I get to watch you prove you belong here the hard way instead of taking shortcuts."

The intercom crackles to life with Professor Hanae’s voice. "Team Nakano-Okoye, please report your decision to tournament control within the next five minutes."

I look around the room at the four women who’ve somehow become the most important parts of my world. Emi with her boundless optimism and healing hands. Skylar with her brutal honesty and sharp knives. Isabelle with her royal bearing and unshakeable loyalty. Natalia with her fierce devotion and ice that burns like fire.

"Any final arguments against choosing suicide by electrocution?"

"Several," Isabelle replies calmly, her wine-red eyes steady on mine. "But none that will change your mind. You’ve already made your decision—I can see it in the set of your shoulders, in the way you’re looking at us like you’re memorizing this moment. You’re preparing yourself for what comes next."

"Damn right they won’t."

I push myself upright, feeling every bruised rib and strained muscle protest the movement. The medical gel has done its job, but there’s no pill that can repair the kind of damage Kira inflicted in those final seconds. My body’s screaming at me that I need rest, recovery time, maybe a week in bed with nothing more strenuous than watching old movies.

Too bad. The dragon’s waiting.

I extend my hand toward Isabelle. She takes it without hesitation, her grip firm and unwavering despite knowing exactly what we’re walking into. There’s something deeply reassuring about that—about the fact that she’s not trying to talk me out of this, not offering me tactical alternatives or strategic considerations. She’s simply accepting my choice and standing beside me as I make it.

"Ready to go poke the dragon?"

"I’ve been ready since the day I walked away from the Argent Sentinels and chose the pack of strays instead." Her lips curve into something that’s not quite a smile, more like the expression of someone preparing for a sacred duty. "Besides, someone needs to ensure you don’t get yourself killed before you’ve had a chance to prove your worth."

"Then let’s go inform tournament control that we choose the hardest possible path, because apparently that’s who we are now."

"That’s who you’ve always been," Natalia corrects from her position on the couch, her voice cutting through the room with absolute certainty. "You just finally found people crazy enough to follow you. People who see the same thing I do when they look at you—not the Zero who couldn’t manifest an Aspect, not the delinquent who got lucky in a Gate. The predator who sees every challenge as another opportunity to prove the world wrong about him."

I lean down and kiss her one more time, tasting copper and determination on her lips where she’d bitten them during that conversation about meaningful paths versus easy ones. When I pull back, her purple eyes are blazing with that particular combination of pride and terror that means she’s simultaneously impressed by my choices and convinced they’re going to get me killed.

"See you in the stands, ice queen."

"Try not to die, lightning rod." Her voice is sharp, but her hand comes up to rest against my chest, feeling the steady beat of my heart beneath the bruises. "I have plans for you that require you to remain alive and functional."

"No promises."

"Satori—"

"But I’ll do my best."

That seems to satisfy her, or at least as satisfied as she’s going to get under the circumstances. Her hand falls away, and I straighten up, turning toward the door where Isabelle is already waiting with the patience of someone who’s spent years learning how to stand like a statue while others made their goodbyes.

We walk toward the door together, and I can feel the weight of their gazes on my back. Emi’s worried optimism. Skylar’s dark amusement at my choices. Natalia’s fierce devotion wrapped in layers of protective anger. The tournament control booth is just down the hall, where Professor Hanae waits with her clipboard and her bureaucratic authority to make our choice official.

We’re going to fight Reyna Cabana and whatever’s left of Kira Tanaka in front of twenty thousand screaming fans and millions of viewers worldwide. We’re going to do it while I’m running on spite and painkillers, while Isabelle is operating on three hours of sleep and royal stubbornness that won’t let her admit she needs rest.

We’re going to win because the alternative is admitting that the Stray Dog doesn’t belong in the same arena as the Crimson Comet, and that’s not a conversation I’m interested in having. Not with her, not with Julian Valerius watching from whatever luxury box daddy’s money bought him, not with the entire Academy waiting to see if I’m legitimate or just another flash in the pan who got lucky once.

Nel’s voice slides through my consciousness like smoke under a door, carrying with it that particular tone that means she’s simultaneously impressed and concerned about my life choices.

The tournament control booth looms ahead, its sliding door open to reveal Professor Hanae’s office. Through the doorway I can see her checking her watch with the weary patience of someone who’s dealt with teenage stupidity for far too long, who’s seen countless students make choices that ranged from merely questionable to actively suicidal. She looks up as we approach, and something in her expression suggests she already knows what decision we’re about to announce.

Of course she does. Anyone who knows me, really knows me, would know I was always going to choose the lightning over the ice.

Time to make it official.

Time to choose the dragon over the depleted team.

Time to prove that sometimes the meaningful path and the suicidal path are exactly the same thing, and that’s what makes them worth walking.