Chapter 1: Welco to Your New Life, You Fat Fuck
[Failure Penalty Administered: Acute Testicular Torsion (Duration: 3 minutes)]
"FUCK!"
This wasn’t how pain worked for . I’d been stabbed before, twice in the shoulder, once in the thigh. I’d had three fingers broken during an interrogation gone sideways. I knew pain. I understood pain. Pain was an old friend.
But this? This was nuclear annihilation between my legs.
"System!" I croaked. "What the fuck is happening?"
[Penalty in progress. 2:43 remaining.]
The burning text floated in my vision, mocking . mories flashed through my mind. T cool press of a glass tumbler against my lips, eighteen-year-old Yamazaki whiskey sliding down my throat. I rembered the solid weight of my custom Beretta, its grip inlaid with mother-of-pearl. The feel of my silk tie, knotted perfectly at my throat as I stood in my penthouse overlooking the New York skyline.
Those mories crashed against the present reality. This weak, trembling body curled on a floor that reeked of stale chips and unwashed laundry.
I forced my eyes open, blinking away tears. The room ca into hazy focus. It was a teenager’s bedroom, but not the kind where anything productive or healthy had ever happened. Fast food wrappers ford small mountain ranges across every surface. The walls were plastered with posters of wide-eyed ani girls in poses that made them look both twelve and thirty-two at the sa ti.
"Jesus," I wheezed, trying to push myself up.
My hands splayed across the carpet, and I stared at them in horror. They weren’t my hands. My hands were tanned, strong, with a knife scar across the right knuckles. These were pale, pudgy, with bitten nails and what looked like Cheeto dust ground into the creases.
I crawled toward the desk where a computer monitor sat dark and lifeless. In its black surface, I could just make out my reflection.
No. Not my reflection. Soone else’s.
A round face stared back at , cheeks plump and glistening with oil. Greasy red hair hung in lank strings over thick-lensed glasses. Double chin. Pasty skin. The face of a kid who’d never known sunlight or exercise or the respect of another human being.
"Not possible," I gasped. "Not fucking possible."
[Penalty in progress. 1:17 remaining.]
The pain pulsed with renewed fury, as if the System was punishing my denial. I collapsed again, biting down on my lip so hard I tasted blood. This had to be a nightmare, a hallucination. The last thing I rembered was choking on my own rage as I ranted about those fucking light novels, the one where the pathetic loser protagonist sohow got all the girls...
Oh no.
"I’m him," I whispered. "I’m the pathetic loser."
[Penalty in progress. 0:32 remaining.]
When the tir finally hit zero, the relief was so sudden that I almost passed out.
"Haah.... Haah... what was that?"
[Penalty complete. I trust the lesson was... impactful?]
"Who the fuck are you?"
[I am Nel, the Administrator of your personal System, Kaelen Leone. Or should I call you Satori Nakano now? That is the na that belongs to this body, after all.]
I struggled to my feet, wobbling as I adjusted to the unfamiliar weight distribution. It felt like going from a V10 to a 4 cylinder.
"Put
back in my body right fucking now."
[Unfortunately, that’s impossible. Your original body is currently being prepared for cremation in Tokyo. Acute aortic dissection, brought on by a combination of being poisoned, hypertension, and your little tantrum.]
I staggered to the mirror mounted on the closet door and confronted my new reality in full. I was massive but in a Sillsbury Doughboy way.
"No," I whispered, pressing my hands against the mirror. "No, this isn’t happening."
[Oh, but it is, Mr. Leone. Or rather, Mr. Nakano. And we have much to discuss about your new circumstances.]
I turned away from my reflection, unable to bear it any longer. "Why? Why would you do this to ?"
[Because you’re entertaining! Your rage when reading about fictional worlds, your contempt for protagonists who had everything handed to them... and now you get to live that very reality you despised. The twist? You’re not the hero. You’re the pathetic side character who exists to make the hero look better by comparison.]
This is bullshit. I was Kaelen Leone, smooth talking enforcer for the Yamaguchi-gumi, a man who commanded respect with a glance.
Now I was this tub of lard.
"I’ll kill myself."
[1-minute penalty for threatening self-harm: Acute Testicular Torsion.]
"Wait a sec— AHHH!"
[Self-harm threatens the gods entertainnt Satori. You can not violate our contract.]
"We don’t... have a... contract," I ground out between clenched teeth.
[Oh, but we do. Your soul was weighed and found wanting. Your life was one of selfish pleasure and casual cruelty. You’re here to learn, to grow... and to amuse
in the process.]
"Okay... okay. I’m listening." I panted. "Just fucking explain."
[Now then, shall we discuss your situation properly? Welco to New Vein City! A world filled with Gate and superhumans. Your imdiate goal is to gain enrollnt in the prestigious New Vein Academy, a training ground for Hunters who battle the Abyssal Beasts that threaten humanity.]
"Let
guess," I muttered. "I’m gonna be the weakest there."
[Perceptive! You are what’s known as a Zero, soone with no asurable Aspect. The lowest of the low. In fact, let
show you your current status.]
A translucent blue screen appeared before , floating in the air like a hologram.
Na: Satori Nakano
Title: Fat Fuck
Level: 1
Class: [NONE]
Strength: F-0
Dexterity: F-0
Agility: F-0
Endurance: F-0
Magic: F-0
Active Abilities (0/2):
Passive Abilities (0/4):
Traits: [NONE]
"Fat fuck... did it take you all night to co up with that one?"
[It did not. Two months from now you’ll be taking the entrance exam for the New Vein Academy Hunter Program. Right now, you’d be laughed out before you even stepped through the door.]
"So I’m supposed to get fit and beco the hero?" I asked, struggling to stand up again. "That’s how these things usually go am I right?"
[Not quite. You see, the original Satori is ant to be cannon fodder. But you are not the original Satori.]
I leaned against the wall, considering this information. "So what’s my role now?"
[That depends on you. The System I’ve attached to your soul is called [The Scumbag System]. It rewards... let’s call it ’morally flexible behavior.’ The more entertaining your actions, the more Schema Points you earn. Those points can be exchanged for power.]
Another screen appeared:
[Schema Points (SP): 0]
[You’ll need those points. Because while you may be starting as cannon fodder, you have potential the original Satori never had: your mind. With that qualities, you might just survive this world.]
I rubbed my face, feeling the unfamiliar softness of my cheeks. "Fine. I’ll play your ga. How do I earn these Schema Points?"
[By embracing your role as the scumbag, of course. Corrupt the pure. Seduce the innocent. Betray expectations. Cause chaos that amuses us, and you’ll be rewarded.]
"That’s it? That was my entire life before this."
[Yes, but now there are rules. Structure. And real consequences for failure.]
My hand instinctively moved to protect my groin at the mory of the pain. "I noticed."
[Your first task is simple: seduce and corrupt your stepsister, Natalia Kuzmina. She’s a potential A-Rank Hunter-in-training, beautiful, proud, and she despises you. You have until the entrance exam to make her yours. Completely.]
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