SEXY MECH SYSTEM-Chapter 31: Future Schemes

"Raja... The explanations."

"What really happened in there?"

"How did I become stronger?"

"How did I become faster?"

His face scrunched tighter as he was about to ask the last question.

"I could have sworn that I saw images of how I could kill those thieves in my head. Why was I absurdly angry?"

Raja sighed deeply, muttering something Syril heard but chose to ignore. "Here we go again..."

Raja explained carefully that all of the answers Syril sought revolved around one thing.

Meaning; the reason he was faster, stronger, and absurdly enraged was all because of one thing. Just one thing.

"I see... So it’s like that? Damn..." Syril sighed heavily after listening to Raja’s explanation, understanding the implication of all Raja had said.

He was beginning to understand things better.

One thing stuck into his consciousness from then onwards.

Did the system grant him insane powers? Yes.

Did it give him those powers blindly? No.

’With every power comes a price,’ Syril repeated the words like a mantra because the system kept emphasizing that indirectly.

He would always remember that. The system made it clear to him that his powers were beyond expectations, beyond reasoning, but he would only access in bits after each qualification.

He would have to grow like others.

That was the path the system designed.

The explanation Raja gave also implied that Syril needed to tread carefully.

He didn’t just get insane powers...

He could also perish with the powers.

∆∆∆∆

Syril opened his stats tab again. Probably the umpteenth time that day.

He was restless.

————~~~~~————~~~~~———

[STATS.]

[Name: Syril Sylvester.]

[Age: 18.]

[Sexual Status: Non-virgin.]

[Race: Human.]

[Ability: Mech Control (SSS Rank).]

[Mana Point (MP): 26.]

[HP: 73.]

[Strength: 21.]

[Agility: 10.]

[Stamina: 25.]

[Charm: 11.]

[Ability Skills: Mechabeetle (Level 1).]

[Special Skills: Scan (Level 1).]

[Fighting Skills: Phantom Jab (Level 1).]

————~~~~~————~~~~~———

Who wouldn’t be restless?

His core stats had been halved by the same source that made him super powerful about an hour ago.

"Hmph!" Syril scoffed bitterly. "What a take."

"I know, but don’t let that beat you down. You already know it’s temporary..." Raja chimed in.

Syril looked just below his stats list, eyeing that message that somehow hurt him.

[Core stats; MP, Strength, Agility, and Stamina temporarily halved.]

[Time left for full restoration: 4 hours, 54 minutes, 13 seconds.]

He closed the tab after another short, painful glance, his jaws tightening as he mentally noted the amount of time he had left for his stats to restore fully.

Even his HP was a bit down after all of the healing, and was slowly restoring too (after he had eaten).

"You already know it’ll be foolish to go after them now. I don’t know why you planned that in the first place, but I’m always here to give the best advice..."

"For now, just focus on the mission at hand. Tomorrow will be the last day you have because you’re moving to Greenville the day after. Why not use this time to strategize?" Raja again chimed in, giving his honest opinion to his companion.

"I know why I’m going after those impertinent fools. Remember Amy told me Oliver and his cohorts also got admitted to the College?" Syril’s voice took a cold edge as he conversed.

"Yes, I remember." Raja calmly responded, a sharp contrast to the stormy cogwheels working in Syril’s head.

"Do you think they forgot me after that prom night’s drama? Definitely not. I know they’ll find out I also got admitted, and what happens after that?"

"They’ll try to make your life a living hell," Raja responded with that matter-of-factly tone, already knowing the kind of guys Oliver and his friends were.

"Exactly. I need to also prepare ahead. Because this time, I’m not that weak Syril they knew. Now, I need to strategize for everything."

"And one day is all I have left. One day is all I have to prepare for the next phase of my life."

∆∆∆∆

As if planned, a certain group of four also sat in a cozy, extravagant parlour, scheming against the same young adult who was strategizing against ’em.

However, the atmosphere was nothing short of tense, long overthrowing that cozy feeling that should be dominating.

"And what do you plan to do?" A certain blonde boy asked.

It was Ashley Brown.

"Ohhhh," a silver haired boy with few strands of black hair chuckled. "I know exactly what we will do."

The boy with silver hair was the orchestrator, the one who forgathered, the undisputable host of the meeting.

It was Oliver Houston.

The others in the room, three to be precise, arched their eyebrows as they listened to what he said.

"What is that? You want us to beat him up again?" Blake Frost broke the silence and confusion that followed Oliver’s last words, pushing back disturbing strands of his electric-blue hair as he spoke.

Oliver chuckled again before answering. "Now, don’t you think that will be too fair? Too lenient for the trouble he caused?!" His voice hardened in the end, carrying coldness that could drop the room’s temperature.

"Well, maybe. But we can always thrash him anytime we want, slowly strip him of his hopes of becoming a notable person," Ashley replied, smirking as he pictured inserting multiple wooden spikes into Syril’s body.

"No! Thrashing him will make him withdraw easily. I want to slowly squeeze life out of him and relish it," Oliver declared, his eyes lit with dangerous fervor. "Besides, do you think that pathetic scumbag doesn’t have an ability by now? That electric witch must have gotten him something nice. Although I agree he can’t beat four of us at once, grouping against him makes us look weak. I want to drain him of everything he has individually..."

He trailed off at the end, his face calm despite the malignant pictures he was painting in his head.

The others were again speechless for a couple of seconds, processing what the "Metal Lord" had just said.

Finally, after stretched seconds, the youngest of them all with red hair and who was characteristically known to be sly, playful, and ’gentle,’ spoke.

"Is that why you’ve been training intensely?" He teased despite the tension carved in the atmosphere.

"Do you always have to be s..." Blake was about to refute on Oliver’s behalf, but the latter intervened.

"Idiot! You’ve always known I love training whenever I’m mad!" Oliver shouted at Gareth.

Gareth’s amber eyes flickered in amusement, smiling as he earned that reaction he expected.

"Oh, really? So the poor boy got you so mad that you constantly have to train?" He pressed, now playfully tracing fiery patterns in the air.

"Pay no attention to the fool. You know him already. He’s fond of it," Blake spoke this time.

"Oh, I know. Listen..." Oliver’s face hardened further, the same look the others knew to respect whenever he was talking.

"I can easily deal with him before he moves to Greenville, but where’s the fun in that? We’ll let him come to Greenville, let him see the hierarchy, let him see true power, let him believe he finally broke through his pathetic life..."

"Then we crush him."

————~~~~~————~~~~~———

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