The neon-lit corridor leading toward The Rust Bucket pulsed with a sickly, synthetic violet hue.
Holographic advertisements for synthesized nutrient paste and bootleg magic-amplifying injectors flickered erratically against the grease-stained walls, casting long, jittery shadows.
As Deku walked, his shoes crunched on the metallic debris littering the ground.
He had spent the last twenty minutes analyzing the subtle changes in his physique.
The system wasn’t just handing out arbitrary rewards; every time he imposed his will on someone else, his body absorbed a fraction of their kinetic and existential energy.
It was a vicious, beautiful cycle—a true bully’s economy.
Around him, the true nature of this future society was on full display.
A few yards ahead, two men stood outside a smoky, subterranean bar.
One of them, a scarred brute with arms thick as tree trunks, was demonstrating his inner mutation.
With a guttural roar, his skin rippled and darkened into a metallic, obsidian sheen.
He slammed his bare fist directly into a thick concrete pillar, cracking it cleanly down the middle without even flinching.
”See that?” the metallic-skinned man boasted to his companion, a slender woman whose fingers were wrapped in crackling, violet spatial arcs.
“My density index went up another point today. At this rate, the corporate recruiters from Sector 4 will have to take me.” This story is hosted at g.com.
”Don’t get cocky, Zane,” the woman replied, her fingers weaving through empty air, temporarily tearing a tiny, half-inch rip in space that revealed a glimpse of a pitch-black void before snapping shut.
“The space-time union tests are harder than ever. If your mutation hits a ceiling, you’re just a heavy target for the alien swarms.”
Deku walked past them, his dark eyes sweeping over their displays of superhuman power without a hint of intimidation.
To an ordinary person, bending space or hardening flesh into steel would look like the work of gods.
To Deku, they were simply variables in an equation.
Magic users manipulate external dimensions; mutation users break internal boundaries, Deku thought, his lips curving into a cold, detached smirk.
Both require immense focus, ego, and absolute conviction.
Fitting, considering how much this world resembles a massive, unrestricted schoolyard.
As he approached the heavy steel doors of The Rust Bucket, a metallic voice chimed softly in his mind, spelling out the next directive without the cold detachment of a digital screen.
[New Quest Available]:
Infiltrate the den of local authority.
Assert dominance over the Iron Syndicate’s area commander. The source of this chapter is g.com.
Deku stopped right in front of the heavily guarded entrance, where two thugs sporting crude iron armbands stood cross-armed, eyeing every passerby with suspicion.
The guards immediately noticed the teenager standing before them.
Despite the ruined, slime-caked high school uniform, Deku’s posture was so rigidly disciplined and terrifyingly confident that it gave them pause.
”Hey, kid.
This isn’t a playground,” one of the guards grunted, reaching out a hand to shove Deku’s shoulder.
“Get lost before—”
Before the guard’s fingers could make contact, Deku caught his wrist with lightning speed.
A sharp, localized snap of space-time resistance rippled around Deku’s knuckles, amplifying his grip with crushing force.
The guard let out a shrill shriek as the bones in his wrist ground together.
”I’m here to see the manager,” Deku whispered, his dark eyes boring straight into the thug’s terrified soul.
“And tell him a new principal is taking attendance.”