Michael Sanchez was, by the world's new standards, utterly worthless. In an era where dungeons bled into city subways and monsters were a daily commute hazard, a person's worth was measured by their Trait. Traits like [Pyrokinesis] or [Steel Skin] were tickets to the prestigious S-Class, a life of fame and riches.
Michael's Trait? [Keen Inventory]. He could mentally organize his backpack. It was, as his S-Class tormentors never tired of pointing out, tragically useless.
"Hey, Inventory Boy!" called Brad, a hulking youth with [Granite Fist], as Michael tried to slip through the academy gates. "Did you organize your tears alphabetically yet?"
Laughter erupted from Brad's clique. Michael kept his head down, his jaw clenched so tight it ached.
'Just get to class. Don't react. They're just noise.'
But the noise was constant, a daily erosion of his spirit. He was in F-Class, the dumping ground for the Traitless and the tragically mundane.
Later, in the dimly lit F-Class homeroom, Brad and his girlfriend, Chloe, waltzed in as if they owned the place. They often did this, slumming it for the fun of it.
"Look at this dump," Chloe sneered, her Trait [Sonic Screech] utterly wasted on her petty comments. "It smells like failure and cheap detergent."
Brad snickered, his eyes landing on Michael. "What's on your schedule today, Sanchez? Gonna go count the cracks in the sidewalk? Maybe alphabetize the trash cans?"
'I could map out seventeen different ways to trip you with a well-placed backpack, you over-muscled oaf,' Michael thought, a venomous tide rising in his chest. But he said nothing.
He just stared at his desk, the familiar cocktail of shame and rage simmering inside him. He was so tired. So pathetically, soul-crushingly tired of being a punching bag.
That night, huddled in his small apartment, the day's humiliation played on a loop in his mind. The laughter, the contempt, the sheer powerlessness. He felt a wave of self-loathing so intense it was nauseating.
'Why? Why am I even here? To be their joke? To be nothing?'
{Lust System Initializing...}
A transparent, blue screen materialized in front of his vision, shimmering with elegant, almost mocking text.
{Welcome, User: Michael Sanchez.}
{This system rewards audacity, desire, and the corruption of purity.}
{Accumulate Lust Points by performing acts that stir the carnal and the taboo.}
{Points can be exchanged for skills, abilities, and enhancements.}
{The world has rejected you. Now, go and claim it.}
Michael stared, dumbfounded. Was he hallucinating from stress? He pinched himself. The screen remained.
"Lust Points?" he muttered aloud. "What the hell is this? Some kind of sick joke?"
{New Objective: Fondle Chloe's rear for 5+ seconds.}
{Reward: 50 Lust Points.}
A hysterical laugh bubbled up in his throat. Chloe? Brad's girlfriend? The one who looked at him like he was something she'd scraped off her shoe? The system was insane. It was perverted. It was… absolutely perfect.
A slow, cunning smile spread across his face for the first time in years. The despair that had clung to him began to evaporate, replaced by a cold, sharp ambition.
'They think I'm nothing. A harmless bug. They don't guard against bugs.' His mind, once a prison of bitter thoughts, began whirring with possibilities.
The next day at school, he watched the S-Class elites with new eyes. They weren't just tormentors, they were targets. Walking, talking bundles of Lust Points. He saw Chloe, laughing with her friends, completely oblivious.
His plan was simple. The hallways were always crowded between periods. He just needed the right moment, a little chaos, and a lot of nerve.
As the bell rang, he moved. He spotted Brad showing off by casually cracking a wall with his fist, drawing a crowd. Chloe was right beside him. Michael, heart hammering not with fear, but with a thrilling, wicked excitement, slipped into the throng of students. He stumbled, as if pushed by the crowd, and his hand landed squarely on Chloe's backside.
He didn't pull away immediately. He counted in his head. One… two… three…
Chloe froze, then spun around, her face a mask of shock and fury. "What do you think you're doing, you creep?!"
{Objective Complete! +50 Lust Points.}
Michael put on his best look of panicked apology. "Oh my god, Chloe! I'm so sorry! Someone shoved me from behind!" He gestured vaguely at the bustling crowd, his voice dripping with false sincerity.
Brad turned, his face darkening. "You got a death wish, Inventory Boy?"
"It was an accident!" Michael insisted, backing away with his hands raised. "It's a madhouse in here!"
He retreated quickly, leaving a fuming Chloe and a glowering Brad behind. As soon as he rounded the corner, he leaned against the wall, a genuine, wide grin splitting his face.
{Lust Points: 50.}
The 50 Lust Points burned a hole in Michael's metaphorical pocket.
Then he focused on the system interface, a shimmering menu of tantalizing options appearing before his eyes.
{Available Skills:}
- [Peek Vision]: See through 1 layer of clothing. Cost: 30 LP.
- [Charm Whisper]: A whisper that slightly lowers the target's guard. Cost: 75 LP.
- [Lustful Aura]: Project a faint, enticing aura. Cost: 100 LP.
He was about to select [Peek Vision]—a classic—when a new category caught his eye: {Combat Traits (Temporary)}.
{Notice:} {Temporary Traits} are available for a limited duration. Permanent Trait acquisition requires a significantly higher LP investment.
His eyes scanned the list, his practical side taking over.
- [F-Rank Strength Boost]: 1-hour duration. Cost: 40 LP.
- [Low-Grade Pain Resistance]: 30-minute duration. Cost: 35 LP.
- [Basic Weapon Proficiency]: 1-hour duration. Cost: 50 LP.
Temporary? Michael frowned. It made sense; the system wasn't about making him a traditional hero. It was a tool for his specific brand of chaos. But then, an announcement from the academy the next morning changed everything.
"Attention all students," the principal's voice boomed over the intercom. "The annual Survival Trial in the 'Verdant Labyrinth' pocket dimension will commence in 72 hours. As you know, this dimension is rich with rare artifacts that can, on occasion, grant abilities rivaling even powerful Traits."
A wave of excitement went through the school, though it was mostly from the S and A-Class students. The F-Class students just looked nervous.
"All classes, including F-Class, are permitted to participate," the principal continued. "The opportunity for advancement is available to everyone. However, be warned, the labyrinth is populated with real, low-level monsters. While you will be equipped with a safety bracelet that will teleport you back to the academy if your life signs drop to a critical level, the danger is not zero. The S-Class students will be entering as well, and they are... highly competitive. Good luck."
The intercom clicked off. The F-Class room was filled with a tense silence. This was their one, terrifying shot at changing their lives. But everyone knew it was a suicide mission. The S-Class kids hogged all the good artifacts and took pleasure in making the F-Class "accidentally" trigger their bracelets before they could find anything.
But Michael wasn't listening to the fear. He was listening to the opportunity. A closed environment? Monsters causing chaos? Arrogant S-Class students focused on loot and not on a "harmless" F-Class kid? It was the perfect hunting ground.
He pulled up the Lust System menu again, a new, more cunning plan forming. He bypassed the flashy skills and went straight to the temporary combat traits. He needed to survive long enough to be opportunistic.
'I don't need to be the strongest. I just need to be smart enough to not get eaten and to stay in the game long enough to... socialize,' he thought with a dark chuckle.
He spent his 50 points.
{Acquired: [Basic Weapon Proficiency] (1-hour duration).}
{Lust Points: 0.}
A wave of knowledge flooded his mind—how to grip a knife for maximum effect, basic stances with a short sword, how to parry a clumsy attack. It was rudimentary, but it was more than he had ten seconds ago.
The day of the trial arrived. The entire student body gathered in the gymnasium, where a large, shimmering portal swirled with emerald energy. An instructor handed out simple metal bracelets to everyone.
"Remember," the instructor said, "this is your only lifeline. If it breaks or you press the button, you're out. The S-Class will enter first, followed by the others. You have 24 hours."
Brad, clad in custom-made combat gear, smirked at the F-Class group. "Try not to cry and activate your bracelets as soon as you see a slime, kids." His eyes briefly met Michael's, and he laughed. "Especially you, Inventory Boy. Don't get your neatly organized inventory messy."
Michael just gave a small, placid smile. 'Keep laughing, you moron. The labyrinth has plenty of dark corners.'
One by one, the S-Class students strode confidently into the portal. When it was the F-Class's turn, they shuffled forward nervously. Michael took a deep breath and stepped through.
The world twisted, and he found himself in a misty, weird forest. The air was thick and humid, and strange, chirping sounds echoed in the distance. All around him, other F-Class students were already looking lost and terrified.
Michael, however, felt a thrill. He was in. And his [Basic Weapon Proficiency] was ticking down. He grabbed a sturdy-looking fallen branch, hefting it with a competence that felt entirely new.
He didn't plan to hunt monsters. He planned to hunt the hunters. Somewhere in this maze, Chloe and her friends were looking for artifacts. And he was going to make sure their hunt was very, very distracting.