〘 TUTORIAL COMPLETION REQUIREMENTS: 〙

〘 - COMPLETE 5 MAIN TASKS (3/5 COMPLETE) 〙 𝙛𝒓𝓮𝙚𝔀𝒆𝒃𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝓵.𝙘𝒐𝒎

〘 - ACHIEVE 100% TEMPTATION THRESHOLD WITH AT LEAST ONE HEROINE (PENDING) 〙

〘 - PASS HALLORAN ACADEMY ENTRANCE EXAMINATION (PENDING) 〙

"So I need to get one of their temptation thresholds to 100% and to pass Halloran," I said. "Then I get my extra slots and graduate from baby mode."

〘 CORRECT. ADDITIONAL NOTE: POST-TUTORIAL DEPLOYMENT WILL INTRODUCE: 〙

〘 - ADVANCED QUEST TYPES 〙

〘 - MULTIPLE SIMULTANEOUS HEROINES 〙

〘 - INCREASED DIFFICULTY SCALING 〙

〘 - COMPETING MALE INTERESTS 〙

"Competing male interests." I laughed, sharp and bitter. "You mean rivals. Other guys who actually know what they’re doing."

〘 AFFIRMATIVE. CURRENT ADVANTAGE IS TEMPORARY. PREPARATION RECOMMENDED. 〙

I looked at Usurper again in my ability list. This legendary skill that could steal powers from defeated enemies.

Maybe that was the System’s answer. Maybe that’s how I was supposed to compete when I left easy mode behind.

Not by being stronger naturally. Not by training harder.

By taking what I needed from people who stood in my way.

The thought should have bothered me more than it did.

"Alright," I said, closing the interface. "Message received. I’m still a baby. Got it."

I grabbed the black hoodie off the bed and pulled it on. My reflection in the mirror looked the same as before. Messy hair. Scar through the eyebrow. Tired eyes that had seen too much in two weeks.

But underneath?

I had twenty-eight strength. Thirty agility. Thirty dexterity. Thirty-seven endurance. Spectral Reach that let me manipulate objects from fifteen feet away. Blitz that could close ten feet in under a second. Boundless Stamina that meant I could fight longer than anyone expected.

And now, sitting in my inventory like a loaded gun?

Usurper. The ability to steal powers from anyone I could break.

I grinned at my reflection.

"Let’s go gambling."

The arcade was downtown. Twenty minutes by car if traffic cooperated. Sloane wanted to drive. I didn’t argue. Her car was nicer than anything I’d ever own, and watching her drive was entertainment in itself. She drove like she fought. Fast, aggressive, no hesitation.

I headed downstairs and found her in the kitchen, keys already in hand. She’d changed into jeans that hugged her legs and a fitted tank top under a leather jacket. Her pink hair was pulled back in a high ponytail.

She looked good. Really good.

The System helpfully provided data I didn’t ask for.

〘 SLOANE FITZGERALD - CURRENT STATUS 〙

〘 Temptation Gauge: 64% 〙

〘 Emotional State: Excited, nervous, anticipatory 〙

〘 Physical Arousal: Moderate (baseline elevated due to morning training) 〙

"You ready?" she asked, spinning the keys around one finger.

"Yeah." I grabbed a water bottle from the fridge. "You sure you want to drive? I could—"

"I’m driving." No room for argument in her voice. "You’d probably crash us before we got to the main road."

"I’m a perfectly good driver."

"You parallel parked into a fire hydrant last year."

"That hydrant came out of nowhere."

She snorted. "Right. Come on, let’s go before I change my mind about this whole thing."

We headed out to the garage. Her car was a sleek black coupe that probably cost more than my entire wardrobe times fifty. She unlocked it with a beep and slid into the driver’s seat like she was born there.

I climbed into the passenger side. The interior smelled like leather and her shampoo. Citrus and something floral I couldn’t name.

She started the engine. It purred to life, smooth and powerful.

"Seatbelt," she said.

"Yes mom."

She shot me a look that could melt steel. "Call me mom again and I’ll leave you on the side of the road."

I grinned and clicked the seatbelt into place.

She reversed out of the garage with perfect control, then shifted into drive and took off down the long driveway toward the main road.

The Fitzgerald estate disappeared behind us. Creston Hills spread out ahead, all manicured lawns and expensive houses that tried too hard to look casual.

"So," I said as we merged onto the highway, "research purposes, huh?"

"Shut up."

"No really, I’m curious. What kind of research are we doing? Reaction speed? Hand-eye coordination? Strategic thinking?"

"All of the above." She changed lanes without signaling, cutting off a sedan that honked angrily. She flipped them off without looking. "Also the food is supposed to be good."

"Very research-focused."

"I’m serious." She glanced at me, then back at the road. "Testing your reaction time in a low-stakes environment will show me where your reflexes actually are. Combat doesn’t always translate to other scenarios."

"Right. And the food?"

"Fuel. You need to eat more. You’re too skinny."

I looked down at myself. "I’ve gained like ten pounds since we started training."

"You’re still too skinny." Her eyes flicked to my arms, then away. "It’s filling out though. The muscle."

Was Sloane Fitzgerald checking me out?

"Eyes on the road," I said.

"My eyes are on the road."

"Could’ve fooled me."

She turned red. Actually red. The blush spread from her neck all the way up to her hairline.

"I wasn’t—you’re so full of yourself. I was just checking to make sure the training is working. That’s all."

"Uh huh."

"It is."

"Sure."

"God, you’re annoying." But she was smiling when she said it.

We drove in comfortable silence for a few minutes. The city rose around us as we left Creston Hills behind. Glass towers caught the afternoon sun. Billboards advertised Hero appearances and merch drops. A massive display showed Grande Dame’s face, advertising some energy drink.

We pulled off the highway onto a downtown exit. The arcade was in the entertainment district, surrounded by restaurants and shops that catered to people with money to burn.

Sloane found parking in a garage nearby. We got out and headed toward the arcade on foot.

The street was packed. Couples walking hand in hand. Groups of teenagers laughing too loud. A street performer juggling fire in front of an impressed crowd.

Sloane walked close enough that our shoulders brushed. Not quite holding hands. But close.

"So," she said as we approached the arcade entrance. "You ready to get destroyed at every game in there?"

I looked at her. At the challenge in her eyes. At the smile playing at the corner of her mouth.

"Bring it on."