When The System Spoils You For No Reason-Chapter 38 - Thirty Eight

A Medley for Drained Souls

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’Ever thought about how we haven’t killed anyone, despite the fight we just had?’ Zeke asked Zero.

{It’s the basis of your humanity,} the AI replied, its tone carrying a faint digital warmth.

’Might be. But for me, it’s two-pronged. One—my humanity, as you said. But you should know better than to stop there. I think it’s more like an unconscious limit I set on myself. I don’t want to get stronger too quickly. My innate ability took the fun out of killing people.’

’Especially given how one-sided that last battle was. I maimed a lot of grunts, but I didn’t kill them. They would’ve just given me stat points and useless abilities.’

{That makes sense. You’re stupid like that.}

It didn’t surprise Zero—not that Zeke had done it, and not that he’d already figured out why. Zeke’s core personality had always leaned toward pattern analysis: his own behaviors, the people around him, the invisible logic threading through both. Psychology was a favorite lens of his.

And then there was the laziness. Even now, he didn’t bother lifting his feet fully when he walked. He moved on their hinges, pushing himself forward in a low, rolling glide—and thanks to his agility, what had started as pure laziness had refined itself into something almost assassin-quiet. Unconscious conditioning. Lazy desire, routed through the body until it became efficiency.

That was just how he worked.

---

"Hey, bitches—why didn’t any of you finish off your opponents?" Zeke asked as he and the trio moved through the Expanse, the crystalline grass chiming softly under their boots.

"What brought that up?" Jude asked, eyes drifting across the alien horizon.

"Nothing. Just thought of it."

"Boredom," Kai said.

"For me, I think we just copied you," Aaron said, his deep voice unhurried. "You don’t kill, so we didn’t."

"Same here, honestly. I figured he just liked affirming his strength—wanted his opponents to know exactly who beat them," Kai said, fingertips brushing his chin as he turned the thought over.

"What a role model." Jude’s smirk was slow and deliberate. "One would think you were a saint, but really you just want to live in their heads rent-free. Kinky."

"What about you?" Zeke asked, looking at Jude directly—knowing full well that Jude, of all of them, had the most to gain from kills.

"Meh. Not fun."

"Heh."

{Dysfunctional bastards,} Zero murmured, almost fondly.

---

Day 4

"Rise and shine, bitches!"

Zeke’s voice tore through the quiet of their makeshift camp—sharp, too cheerful, and entirely unapologetic. The false dawn of the Expanse painted everything in soft violets and blue.

"Urgh." Kai dragged a thin blanket over his head. "It’s still early, man."

"I know. Today’s a good day. I can feel it—we’ll catch a lot of prey."

"Fuck!"

"What?" Aaron surged to his feet, the last traces of sleep gone, already annoyed.

"We didn’t loot the second group."

"That’s..." Aaron scratched the stubble at his jaw and looked toward Kai and Jude, who were now sitting up. They shrugged in sleepy unison. "Well. That’s a reasonable cause to crash out."

"I know, right?" Zeke ran a hand through his silver-streaked hair. "We’ll just have to go harder today. Good thing we’re up early. Let’s catch the worm."

Silence. Three pairs of blank eyes stared back at him.

"What?" Zeke blinked.

"It’s a play on the saying—’The early bird catches the worm.’ I said it’s a good thing we got up early, then I inserted the worm part. Get it?" He looked between them, waiting.

"..."

"You know what, forget it. Explaining the joke kills the joke."

"Ohh." Jude’s voice was utterly flat. "We didn’t realize it was a joke."

"C’mon, guys, it’s not too late—laugh," Kai said, with zero sincerity.

"Hahaha," they droned in unison, filing past Zeke to start breaking down camp, voices hollow and unconvincing.

{Hahaha. So funny,} Zero buzzed. {For the record, my laugh is both fake and real. Fake because I joined the trio—real because I genuinely enjoyed watching them do it. You get it? Actually, forget it. Explaining the joke reduces its comedic prowess.}

Bastards.

---

Several miles away, in a camp that looked nothing like theirs, tents of dark green and gold stood in orderly rows. The air smelled of polished leather, ozone from mana stones, and the faint clean scent of morning dew on alien grass.

"Young Lord. The group is well-rested. We’re ready to move out."

Cassian stood at a respectful angle, his bow precise, House Aurelius colors pressed and exact. Military discipline down to the crease.

Yes, that Cassian. The Caterwauler.

He was addressing a blonde youth perched on a smooth slab of dark stone, watching the camp stir with the expression of a man observing something mildly interesting from a great distance. The youth—Enel—had a quality of stillness about him. The kind that didn’t just resist the noise of the world; it quietly pushed back against it.

This was House Aurelius.

"My sword vibrates strangely. A bad omen." Enel’s voice was quiet, but it carried with no effort. His hand rested on the scabbard at his side—simple, unadorned. "Something is coming."

"Would it be something that surpasses you, Young Lord?" A flicker of concern crossed Cassian’s face.

"Nothing in this dungeon threatens me. My concern is for the cannon fodder we brought along."

"Leave protecting them to me."

"Hmm." A beat. "They’re not entirely useless, to be fair. We have two A-rank house members—and one skittish one."

"Who?"

"The one who believes his little escape went unnoticed by my sword."

"Ah. When you took an interest in him, I looked into it. He’s an upcomer from the seventh branch. B-Rank."

"Hmph." The sound was quiet, and dismissive. "Command the group."

"Yes, Young Lord."

---

Later that morning, Zeke and the trio crested a rise overlooking a wide, shallow valley. The strange light of the Expanse filtered down through crystal haze, illuminating a sprawling camp below—and, planted firmly in the alien earth at its center, a large banner snapping in the still air.

"Ahh." Zeke crouched at the ridge’s edge, settling into it. "Another high vantage point."

"I smell smoke. There’s a camp below us." Jude’s nose wrinkled at the mix of woodsmoke and mana-infused incense drifting up.

"Finally. Prey."

Zeke leaned out and looked down. The banner’s emblem came into focus: Sun-and-Sword. He recognized it immediately.

"House Aurelius," Kai murmured, his usual ease dimmed by a note of caution.

"Why’d they plant their flag?" Zeke asked—genuinely curious.

"To warn off greedy idiots like you," Jude said, eyes still fixed on the movements below. "Only fools, houses of equal standing, or monsters ignore it and attack anyway."

Zeke’s grin spread slow and sharp. "Aww. They met a monster."

He straightened, pulled a full breath, and poured mana into his voice. It rolled down into the valley like a physical wave.

"RAISE YOUR ARMS! YOU ARE ABOUT TO FACE THE MONSTER OF MONSTERS!"

The camp below went still for a single heartbeat—then fractured into noise.

"Who’s that?"

"What’s going on?"

"Is someone actually attacking us?"

"Do they have any idea what Master Enel is capable of?"

"What a fool."

"’Raise your arms.’ When Master Enel’s done with him, he won’t even be able to raise one."

BOOM.

Zeke didn’t jump. He fell—deliberate, feet-first—and hit the center of the camp with an impact that sent a tremor rolling through the ground and kicked up a ring of dust and chiming crystal shards.

The wave settled. His figure emerged from it: hands in pockets, a lazy, wolfish grin on his face.

"ARE YOU READY?"

His eyes swept the gathering crowd before finding what they were looking for—a blonde youth who had not moved from his seat. Hadn’t flinched. Hadn’t stood.

"Hello, Enel." Zeke’s tone dropped to something almost conversational. "Surprised to see me?"

Enel’s calm gaze settled on him. A flicker of recognition, then something colder. More focused. "So you’re the calamity." A quiet sound—something between a breath and a laugh. "Heh. Eve’s been waiting for this."

His hand moved to his sword hilt, unhurried and deliberate. The air around him began to shift—the first breath of an aura that would, by his tradition, signal the start.

Zeke was already moving.

He crossed the distance in a blink—not a charge, a blur—and passed Enel at a whisper’s distance.

"Wait your turn, Enel."

His voice was a cold thread, there and gone. Reality Anchor—a sub-ability of Sunder—settled over Enel like an invisible spatial gel, locking him in place with quiet, absolute finality.

Zeke was already inside the mass of House Aurelius grunts, grin wild and completely untamed.

"HERE I COME!"

---

(Status window)

Name: Enel Aurelius

Age: 23

Race: Human (Peak)

Rank: S-Rank

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STATS

Strength: S (1050)

Agility: S (1050)

Endurance: S (1050)

Perception: S (1050)

Magic Power: S (1200)

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INNATE ABILITY

Imperial Domain (S-Rank)

You create a 30-meter area around yourself where your authority dominates. The domain has no visible barrier, but enemies feel your presence the moment they enter it.

Effects

Self Buff: Inside the domain, your strength, speed, and endurance are boosted; your awareness sharpens; energy recovery increases slightly.

Enemy Suppression: Opponents feel pressured and weighed down. Reactions slow, movements grow heavier, confidence erodes—especially in those weaker than you or those lacking strong willpower.

Focused Pressure (Active): By concentrating, you can briefly intensify pressure in a localized area—enough to stagger enemies, interrupt spells, or deflect attacks. High mana cost.

Limitations

The domain remains centered on you.

Maintaining it drains mana; active use drains significantly more.

Strong-willed or higher-ranked opponents can resist its effects.

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SKILLS

Grandmaster Blade Weapon Mastery (S-Rank)

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TRAITS

Sword Monarch (SS-Rank)

You are the Sword Monarch—ruler of all blades. Your movements and attacks are perfectly refined. All sword-related abilities below SS-Rank are increased by one rank and cost less energy to use. Sword-aligned beings instinctively recognize you as their monarch. Bladed weapons act as extensions of your will, and you are immune to all sword- and blade-based abilities.

Mind Palace (S-Rank)

Your mind is a palace under your absolute control. You are immune to all mind-based abilities below Mythical rank and can freely manipulate your own mental landscape. Your thought speed is enhanced, your memory is perfect, and you learn at a pace far beyond the ordinary.

High Specs (S-Rank)

You are extraordinarily intelligent—processing, learning, and applying knowledge at a rate that defies your caliber. You can outpace most computers.

Golden Boy (A-Rank)

People want you on their side and will work to keep you there. Within an organization, your superiors favor you instinctively and accommodate you readily. Royalty, upon meeting you, will likely do the same.

Peak Specimen (S-Rank)

You are genetically the apex of your race. Impurities, deficiencies, inherited flaws—none of them apply to you. You were, in every meaningful sense, built to be the peak of what your species can produce.

Exact (B-Rank)

Your control over your abilities and spells is precise to a degree most would struggle to match.

Mysticism (C-Rank)

Your energy reserves and recovery speed exceed the norm, allowing you to sustain abilities and spells well past what others can manage.