Nathan's boots hit the pavement with a rhythm that matched his irritation. Since the moment he'd unlocked the [TAG] skill, reality hadn't looked the same. Every glance at a woman exploded into a floating wall of filth above their heads like a walking, talking porn hub database.
[TAG DETECTED]
[MILF]
[Chronic Cheater]
[Anal Addict]
[Submissive]
[Gaping]
He gritted his teeth and looked away.
[TAG DETECTED]
[Hardcore Exhibitionist]
[Double Penetration Fantasy]
[Secret Webcam Model]
"System," he muttered like a man praying to be released from horny hell. "Can you shut this off? It's too much."
[System Response: Skill [TAG] is currently active. Manual deactivation not permitted. Focused activation mode is available.]
That made him pause. "Focused activation?"
[System Response: Tags will only appear when focus is manually applied to a subject of interest.]
Nathan sighed in relief. "Yes. Do that."
[Focus Mode: Activated.]
Just like that, the wall of chaos above every woman's head disappeared. The street was suddenly peaceful—visually, at least.
He walked in silence, eyes forward, until the flickering neon sign of a sketchy little store caught his attention.
SINISTER SNAX
24 HOURS | NO REFUNDS | DON'T ASK
The bell above the door wheezed as he stepped inside. The air smelled like burned sugar, dust, and synthetic misery.
Behind the counter slouched a goth girl who looked like she'd been summoned from a haunted house. Pale skin, pitch-black lipstick, a septum ring shaped like a tiny razor, and a hoodie three sizes too big. Her black leggings had deliberate holes that hinted at too much skin, and her nails were chipped black claws.
She didn't even bother to look at him. Just muttered, "Great. Another one."
Nathan arched a brow.
"I swear," she sighed without lifting her head, "you incels just spawn in here after midnight like you're on cooldown."
His curiosity flared.
He focuses his vision on her.
[TAG DETECTED]
[Pain Slut]
[Masochist]
[Submissive]
[Self-Hate]
[Orgasam Denial]
[Pet Names: Slut, Garbage, Cumdump]
[Analyzing Subject…]
[Name: Raven]
[Age: 19]
[Slut Potential: 98%]
[Corruption Threshold: 94%]
[Most Likely Kink: Choking + Being Told She's Useless]
He blinked slowly. Dismissed the screen.
"You done standing there like a creeper, or are you gonna buy something, Professor Stare-a-Lot?"
Nathan grabbed a cold can of something he didn't even register. "Yeah. This."
"Wow, amazing choice," she said, still not looking at him. "You want a participation medal too?"
He set it on the counter. "You always this charming?"
"No, just allergic to guys who think they're mysterious but actually look like they narrate their own masturbation."
His lips twitched. "…That specific, huh?"
She finally looked up, and her eyes—ringed in black shadow and contempt—met his.
"I work here. I've seen everything. Including the guy who came in last week asking if I sold lube that smelled like chocolate."
Nathan placed a five on the counter.
"Big spender," she said, snatching it. "What a gentleman. You want me to curtsy too?"
He just gave her a slow blink and turned to leave.
"Yeah, that's right. Walk away all brooding and mysterious. That totally works. Totally not giving 'future manifesto writer.'"
The bell squealed as he stepped outside.
Behind him, her voice drifted out one last time:
"Quickly get lost you loser"
He clenched his fists, like he wants to punch straight in her face.
Nathan stepped out into the humid night, his fists clenched, jaw tight. Raven's voice still echoed in his head, her parting words scraping at his nerves like rusty nails on a chalkboard.
"Quickly get lost you loser."
He took three steps before he stopped cold. The neon buzzed behind him. The street was empty. Still. But his rage was a living thing—curling up his spine like a parasite. He didn't even realize he was turning back around until he was already at the door again.
[System Response: Emotional Spike Detected. Triggering Passive Skill Branch.]
[New Mission Available: Rapid Verbal Abuse Marathon (Extreme Version)]
[Target: Raven]
[Objective: Make Her Cry]
[Reward: Miracle Berry]
[Note: Absolutely no mercy. System encourages full mental warfare. Leave no insecurity untouched.]
Nathan's lip curled into something dark. "You serious right now?"
[System Response: Very.]
He turned around.
The bell above the door squealed again as he stepped in, the fluorescent light flickering like it regretted being turned on in this place.
She didn't even look up.
"Oh, back again? Let me guess. Forgot your balls?"
Nathan didn't answer. He just walked up to the counter slowly, staring right at her like she was a bug under a microscope.
She leaned on her elbow, lips curling. "Lemme guess. You want a refund for that can of dog piss you bought? Sorry, no returns. Maybe go cry to your therapist, yeah?"
Still no response.
She rolled her eyes. "Fucking mute now? Whatever. You're not even worth the oxygen it takes to insult. Just another weak-ass loser with a hate boner and no balls."
Nathan exhaled slowly, gaze fixed dead on her.
Then he began.
"You are, without a doubt, the most brain-dead, trash-brained, cock-sucking embarrassment I've ever had the misfortune of speaking to."
Her eyes narrowed. "Excuse me?"
"No, shut the fuck up. You don't get to play tough now. You wanna talk shit? Let's talk."
He slammed a palm on the counter—hard—making her jump. Her mouth opened, but he wasn't done.
"From the second I walked in here, your voice has been scraping my eardrums like sandpaper dipped in dogshit. You think you're clever, edgy, cool? You're just a useless fucking cunt with a superiority complex and zero substance."
She straightened, trying to glare.
"You look like a drugstore clearance rack had a mental breakdown and decided to put on black lipstick. And you wear that hoodie like it's hiding something mysterious, but guess what—it's not. It's just hiding the fact that you're a fucking coward."
She scoffed. "Big words for someone who—"
"SHUT. THE FUCK. UP."
He pointed right at her face.
"I'm not here to play fucking word tennis with a human hemorrhoid. I came back in here to dismantle you, bitch, and I'm not leaving until you've got fucking tears soaking that greasy fucking makeup."
Her nostrils flared, but there was a twitch in her eye now. A flicker of something fragile trying to claw its way out.
"You act like you've got bite, but all I see is a sad, loud, cum-drenched brat desperate for attention. Everything about you screams pathetic. Your attitude, your face, your fucking existence—it's all bottom-of-the-barrel, used-up, no-refills-left-in-this-bitch level garbage."
She barked out a laugh. "Fuck off. You don't even know me—"
"I know enough. I know you've got nothing going for you but your big fucking mouth and a loose pair of lips that probably haven't stopped flapping since the day you were spit out of whatever piss-stained cunt birthed you."
Her mouth dropped. Her face flushed. "You piece of—"
"You don't matter. You're not cool. You're not intimidating. You're a goddamn fucking mosquito buzzing in people's ears, trying to piss them off just so you don't have to sit alone with your own miserable thoughts. That's all you are. Noise. Fucking noise."
Her breathing picked up.
Nathan leaned forward, voice like ice.
"You think anyone gives a fuck about what you have to say? You think this attitude of yours makes you special? You're not special. You're a nothing. A fucking zero with chipped black nail polish and no future."
She was blinking faster now, chest rising quick. Hands gripping the counter like she needed to hold herself together.
He smirked.
"Thought so."
Still, no system pop-up.
Nothing.
Nathan narrowed his eyes.
The system wanted more.
He kept going.
"You ever wonder why no one stays? Why everyone treats you like a joke? It's because you are. You're a sad fucking joke. A filthy-mouthed waste of space who thinks that if she's mean enough, loud enough, maybe no one will notice how goddamn broken she really is."
A tear slipped down her cheek. She wiped it fast, hoping he didn't see.
He saw.
And still—
No Mission Complete Notification.
He stepped around the counter. She backed up like she was suddenly unsure. Her back hit the shelf behind her.
Nathan didn't touch her.
He just stood there. Looming. Watching.
"You gonna cry now, huh? Finally gonna let that fake-ass tough girl mask slip?"
She sniffed, eyes wet. "Fuck… fuck you…"
"Oh, I'm already fucking you. Right now. With every word. Raw. No lube. Just pain. And you're taking it like the whiny, run-down, sad-sack little failure you are."
Her knees buckled. She grabbed the shelf behind her.
Another tear.
And another.
And another.
Mascara bleeding down her cheeks.
Nathan tilted his head.
Still—
Nothing.
No system ping.
No mission complete.
It wanted her destroyed.
He stepped even closer.
"You know what I see when I look at you? A worn-out chew toy. You're not rebellious, you're revolting. You're not confident, you're crumbling. You're not strong, you're fucking shattered and too stupid to admit it."
She broke. Shoulders shaking. Head down.
Sobbing.
Open, wet, miserable sobs.
He waited.
And still—
[System Notification: …Pending.]
A pause.
A breath.
Then—
[Mission: Rapid Verbal Abuse Marathon (Extreme) — 97% Completion.]
[Final Requirement: Witness Verbal Submission or Implosion.]
Nathan stared down at her trembling form, voice low, cruel, final.
"Say it. Say you're nothing. Say it, you fucking trash pile. Say it or I'll keep going until you're screaming it into the fucking floor."
She looked up.
Eyes red. Makeup ruined.
And then—
"…I'm nothing…"
[System Notification: Mission Complete.]
[Reward: Miracle Berry Granted.]
[Bonus: Title Unlocked — "Soulbreaker." Debuffs applied to targets with [Brat], [Masochist], [Submissive], or [Self-Hate] tags.]
Nathan didn't smile.
He just stood there.
Watching the sad, pathetic mess slump against the shelf, sniffling, shaking, broken.
No mercy.
No regret.
Just silence.
And the soft, trembling sound of a bitch who finally realized her bark was worth fuck all.