Supreme Degenerate Lust System-Chapter 7: Magic and Acting!

"That's Kriss's Gale Snare..."

Celeste explained, her voice calm like she was narrating a nature documentary.

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"A sort of wind magic. It takes incredible control to manipulate air like that — bending it to your will. Kriss says it's still in the early stages of development, but honestly, I think that's just him being humble.

"It's already crazy powerful... like trying to swat a fly mid-flight while riding a galloping horse — and landing the hit."

Alex didn't hear most of that. He was too busy gaping like a fish gasping for air at the sight before him.

His jaw hung low enough to qualify as a tourist attraction, and his eyes sparkled like a kid who just unlocked Ultra Instinct in a fighting game.

Magic. Real freaking magic.

Earlier, he'd been terrified of the girls zipping around like caffeinated hummingbirds.

But now? Now he saw Kriss bending wind like he was finger-painting with the atmosphere itself — and suddenly Alex's weeb-brain exploded like a confetti cannon at an anime convention.

'I CAN LEARN THIS TOO!'

His inner fanboy screamed.

'This world's got magic, and I can become a walking, talking, spell-blasting boss fight!'

He was practically floating on a cloud of potential when —

"YOU FATTY!"

Ellie's voice ripped through his fantasy like a chainsaw on a chalkboard.

Her head whipped toward Kriss, her face scrunched up like she'd just swallowed a lemon dipped in battery acid — equal parts disgust and rage.

Meanwhile, Kriss looked up mid-chew, sunflower seed shells cascading from his mouth like confetti at a loser's parade.

"Wh-what?!"

Kriss stammered, still stuffing his face like he was training for an eating contest.

'Oh no...'

Alex thought.

'This chonky Gandalf's about to get roasted.'

"Alright, that's enough!"

Kriss, who had already turned half a step into his great escape — waddling away like a man with hot soup in his pockets — froze mid-motion.

He knew better than anyone that outrunning Ellie was like trying to outpace a thunderstorm in flip-flops.

Luckily for him, Alric's voice boomed through the air like Zeus ordering a mic drop.

The atmosphere shifted. It wasn't just words — it was like the air itself tightened its tie, straightened its shirt, and whispered, "Yes, sir."

Even Alex, who was still half-snuggled in Celeste's heavenly pillows, felt the weight of that command.

Alric stood there, arms crossed, but somehow looking like he'd just stepped out of a war painting — the kind where the general stares dramatically into the horizon while explosions bloom behind him.

"We've been traveling for quite some time, and now... we're taking a break. Understood?"

"She started it, Alric—"

Charlotte barely got the words out before Alric raised his hand, palm up, in the universal signal for "Shush, mortal."

She closed her mouth so fast her teeth nearly clapped.

Ellie just scoffed, sheathing her spear with an exaggerated clang like she was a gunslinger holstering her six-shooter.

With a huff that could've powered a windmill, she spun on her heel and marched off like she had places to be and people to glare at.

"I don't give a damn who started it."

Alric barked, sounding like a dad laying down the law after finding a mysterious hole in the living room wall.

"You —" He jabbed a finger at Charlotte. "Go get water from that pond. And you—" He shifted his glare to Ellie, "Since you're so hot on your ass, why don't you go hunt something big enough to feed all of us?"

"Pfft... easy."

Ellie smirked like she'd just been challenged to arm wrestle a toddler.

Without another word, she leapt away — and Alex swore he heard a faint whoosh as she cut through the air like a human firework.

'Damn... she's faster than me cumming!'

Alex thought, shaking his head.

...

"So... let me get this straight — you're telling me that you have no idea how you got here? No clue where this is? And absolutely zero memory of who you are?"

Alric's voice carried that special tone adults use when a kid swears they didn't eat the last cookie — even though there's chocolate smeared all over their face.

Meanwhile, Alex lay sprawled across Celeste's lap like he was auditioning for the role of "Laziest Farmhand in the Kingdom."

Legs crossed, blade of grass dangling from his mouth, and eyes glued to the sky like he'd just discovered clouds were free entertainment.

"Nop."

He chomped on the grass like it was gourmet gum.

"I remember nothing... nothing of this place... nor my origin... nothing of my name nor my... sniff~ sniff~... nor my parents..."

Suddenly, Alex's voice cracked like a pubescent rooster in choir practice.

His eyes flooded faster than a leaky bathtub, and he swung his arm over his face like a tragic theater actor auditioning for the role of "Emotional Guy #3."

The group around the campfire collectively froze, their expressions teetering between concern and awkward discomfort — like someone had just mentioned politics at Thanksgiving dinner.

Even Ellie — the queen of sarcasm — didn't toss in a snarky comment. Instead, she just scowled and muttered something under her breath.

She flopped down on the ground, grabbed her roasted moose leg, and chomped into it like she was imagining Alex's face on the bone.

'Wow, even Tomboyzilla's holding back.'

Alex thought through his tears, peeking past his arm.

'Maybe I should cry more often...'

Naturally, since Ellie had been challenged, she went full overachiever and picked the biggest, meanest beast she could find — a moose.

Not just any moose either — this thing looked like it did push-ups for fun and ate bears for breakfast.

By the time she dragged its oversized carcass back to camp, she was sporting a few bruises and scratches like battle scars.

When Celeste offered to heal her, Ellie waved her off like a warrior refusing a bandage after a dramatic sword duel.

"Injuries make a person stronger!"

She declared with all the bravado of someone who didn't know they were bleeding from the ear.

Of course, she couldn't resist throwing a dirty look at Alex as she said it — the kind of look that said, "You wouldn't survive five minutes in a pillow fight, let alone a real battle."

But Alex? Oh no. Alex's ego had Wi-Fi-level reception when it came to misinterpreting signals.

He took her glare as some kind of shy admiration — like she was secretly swooning over his mysterious charm. So naturally, the dumbass did the only logical thing:

He ran a hand through his hair like he was posing for a shampoo commercial, batted his eyelashes like a flirtatious cartoon princess, and even hit her with the classic "How you doin'?" smirk.

The result? Ellie's face scrunched like she'd just licked a sweaty goblin's armpit.