'What is my reward?' I asked the question in my head, kicking a soda can down the sidewalk. 'And why the hell am I still so weak? That thing nearly folded me like a lawn chair. Invasion is crawling closer, and I can barely go a round with a goddamn alien robot?'
[System]: Oh, sugar... reward incoming. Close your eyes. No peeking.
A flick of heat ran up my spine. Interface blinked. Notifications popped in, dripping violet and gold across my vision.
[System]: Main Quest Complete: "Gods Clash, Mortals Burn"
Reward: Rare Item: Uru Residue (Reforgeable or Analyzable)
+50 Reputation with Civilians
(Hidden Perk Unlocked: Hero Persona Seed)
Unique Skill Acquired: "Phantom Exit" - Automatically leaves behind a false visual trail when disengaging in stealth.
[System]: Ooooh, look at you, baby... taking on divine artillery and still walking home like a naughty boy sneaking in past curfew. My thighs? Quaking.
I tugged my hoodie over my head and kicked that crushed soda can across the pavement again. It hit a light pole and bounced into the street. Cars passed by, horns blaring.
I hummed, "What is Hero Persona Seed?"
[System]: Awww~ now you are asking the juicy questions.
The interface pulsed again. Gold lines spiraled inward, forming a symbol I had never seen before. Kind of like a stylized mask surrounded by swirling arrows. Looked like a logo someone would put on bootleg Spider-Man merch and swear it was official.
[System]: Hero Persona Seed is a long-term evolution path, sugar. It tracks the public version of you, the myth, the legend, the... oohhh yes, right there, yes... the hero.
I blinked, rubbing the back of my neck. "I thought that was just me doing Spider-things and not getting arrested."
[System]: Mmmm, no baby. That is the warm-up act. This seed grows the more you play hero for the public. The more hearts you save, the more rumors bloom. The more belief in you rises, the closer the Seed gets to sprouting into something real.
"You mean like... actual powers?"
[System]: Maybe. Maybe outfits. Maybe reputation perks. Maybe you will get fan clubs. Maybe you will get panties mailed to your locker. Mmmm~ imagine the possibilities.
I shoved my hands into my hoodie and kept walking. "Phantom Exit, though," I mumbled.
[System]: Yesss~ stealth king energy. Whenever you disengage while cloaked, it leaves behind a residual image for 1.5 seconds. Just enough to make cameras, eyes, or stalkers think you are going one way while you escape the other. A little ghostly misdirection. Very useful when someone gets clingy. Or handsy. Or horny for vengeance.
"Nice."
[System]: Mmmm~ you have no idea. Just imagine: You leave a warehouse full of stunned villains, webbed to the ceiling, and all they see is your afterimage flipping off into the dark. Instant legend.
"Feels dramatic."
[System]: And sexy. don't forget sexy.
I pulled my phone and saw a few more images from Zoey, Cassie, and Trixie. All of them wet, slippery, smiling like they had just dipped themselves in pool water and slutty intentions. Topless. Bottoms barely on. Posing like a poster child orgy for teen thirst traps. Every photo was a dare. Every pixel screamed: Come over and lose control.
The first shot was Zoey, back arched over the pool edge, one strap slipping, tongue out. Her hair slick with water, ass half-bare like the bikini was scared to stay on.
Second, Cassie, half-laying on a float, one leg raised, barely holding her chest with a crooked grin. Camera angle was full trap.
Third... Trixie in the middle of both, water glistening off her thighs, lips puckered like she was sending a kiss straight through the screen.
I stared for a second. Phone tilted low so no one walking past would see. Because public wood over attention-hungry pool girls was not the image I wanted outside a damn bakery. Then I laughed under my breath and put the phone away.
They thought they had leverage. That I would sprint over and give them what they wanted. That I would drop my pants, drop my pride, and kneel like some horny altar boy begging for communion.
Cute.
Let them wait. Let them soak in their own desperation. Because the second I show up, they think they have the leash. And I am nobody's bitch.
They thought this was bait.
I knew it was bait.
[System]: Mmmm~ that is it, baby. don't let them think they are in control. You are the main course, not the dog begging for scraps.
On my way back, I swung by Mrs. Thompson's place under an excuse. She opened the door in a towel. That towel didn't survive the next five minutes. I made sure she had zero complaints about the surprise visit. Bent her over the bathroom counter, rearranged her spine while the mirror fogged up from our breath. We fucked before the shower, during, and after, right there on the tile while the hot water ran out and her legs gave up on holding her weight.
Alibi secured. Body rinsed. Smell swapped.
If May was going to sniff suspicion, she would get a nose full of her neighbor's desperation, not God battle and Alien Robot grease.
When I walked in, May was already on the couch, feet up, remote in hand, and a half-empty pasta bowl on the coffee table. She didn't turn her head when I entered. She just took one look at me and let her foot fly. It caught me in the stomach mid-step.
"Go wash that whore off of you," she said, eyes still on the TV. "Then come back and eat."
I landed on the floor with a grunt, arms splayed like I had just been hit by divine judgment. "Damn!"
The slipper missed my nose by an inch. May didn't even move her arm. Just foot-flicked the missile like a pissed-off ninja aunt. I pushed myself up, huffed, and went straight to the shower without a word. Again. This time with actual soap and less MILF.
Five minutes. Cold water. Scrubbed everything twice. Even the back of my knees.
By the time I stepped out, towel on my head, a warm bowl of pasta was already waiting on the table. I dropped onto the couch beside her and started eating.
"How was your day?" I asked, mouth half-full.
May didn't look at me. Just clicked the volume up on the remote. Some trashy reality show played on the screen. People yelling about cheating while wearing too much makeup and not enough clothes.
"Fine," she said, spearing a piece of penne. "Yours?"
I shrugged, taking another big roll of pasta. It was hot, rich, and spiced like it was cooked by someone who knew real pain. "Same. School and some extracurricular activity."
May snorted. The kind of snort that carried more sarcasm than interest.
I nodded toward the screen, where some over-tanned jackass was crying because his girlfriend slept with his cousin's cousin's ex-boyfriend. "Did you not see the news? Why the hell is this show even on when gods just invaded Brooklyn?"
She grabbed the remote and turned the volume down. "Because the news isn't pasta. And because people like pretending nothing happened. It is comforting."
"Comforting isn't the word I would use after a death robot barbequed a street full of taxis."
She gave me a side glance. "You were not anywhere near that mess, were you?"
"Nope," I said, biting into another forkful. "Heard it happened while I was... tutoring. At a different location. Entirely."
She narrowed her eyes, but not enough to challenge it. Just enough to make sure I knew she was not buying the lie completely.
"I swear," I added. "If I was any farther from the scene, I would have been in Jersey."
"That isn't a defense. That is a threat."
I sipped the soda next to the bowl. Warm. Probably flat. I drank it anyway. May had already switched the channel to the local news recap. I caught sight of a blurry figure flipping off a rooftop mid-chaos before it cut to Thor standing in front of the SHIELD trucks.
May raised an eyebrow. "So, new hero?"
I shrugged. "Looks like it. Big hammer. Bigger biceps. I think the internet already proposed to him."
"He does have nice arms," she said too casually.
"Ew. Can you not say that while I am chewing?"
She ignored me. Reached for the garlic bread and waved it in my face. "You know who does not have nice arms? That mystery Spider guy. Always jumping. Probably just some high school dropout in a hoodie."
I took the bread, chewed, and mumbled through it. "Maybe he is smart. Smart enough to not want the whole world watching his every move."
"You don't sound very convinced," she said, flipping channels again until she landed on some rerun of a sitcom that had not been funny since I was six.
I shrugged, "I am not going to think about a masked man's identity. There are seven billion people. All we know, the guy could teleport and live in North Korea. He could be Kim Dong Un."
May rolled her eyes and tossed the remote onto the cushion. "It is Jong Un, though he is definitely a Dong. And I highly doubt he would waste his time saving anyone in Brooklyn. Especially not without blowing something up first."
I stabbed another forkful of pasta and shoved it into my mouth. "Maybe it is all misdirection. Maybe the Spider is a robot."
"Maybe he is a space raccoon in spandex," she replied, stretching her leg out like she was trying to cover two cushions with the power of disbelief. "At this point, nothing would surprise me."
I wiped my mouth and leaned back into the couch. May stretched her foot toward my lap without saying anything, like it was an unspoken contract written in leftover pasta. I took her ankle, settled it against my thigh, and started to massage. Her toes cracked, one by one, like they had been waiting for this all day.
She groaned lightly, the kind of sound that belonged in spa commercials or post-bills leg rubs. "You better not be doing this just because you know you smell whore."
"You are the one who shoved your foot in my lap," I said, pressing into the arch with both thumbs.
She shrugged. "Still. Just making sure you aren't bribing me into silence."
"I have done worse."
May tilted her head. "Please. You were ten years old the last time you washed dishes without being asked."
"That is slander."
She hummed like she agreed. "Feels good though. Keep going."
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You can read up to Chapter 99...
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