Chapter 1: Zero Aura, Zero Mana, Zero Maidens
For Leon, dying was the easy part. Waking up fucking sucked.
When he got hit by the speeding truck and was sent flying straight into the void, he had accepted his fate with what was retrospectively bizarre optimism.
Bizarre, but not baseless.
He was an avid consumer of webnovels and had seen enough to know exactly how it was supposed to go. He would open his eyes in a grand temple and be surrounded by weeping beauties.
Then a glowing blue screen would appear and declare him Supreme Overlord of the Cosmos.
Well, that was how it was supposed to have gone.
What happened instead was him waking up face down in a pile of horse manure.
And now it had been exactly five days since Leon had transmigrated into the body of an eighteen-year-old orphan, who, as his wonderful luck would have it, was the lowest-ranking servant of the prestigious House Sterling.
It took Leon five days of backbreaking labor and watery porridge to come to an inevitable yet horrifying realization.
He was fundamentally and irreversibly screwed.
This world had a brutal hierarchy of magic and power, and House Sterling sat considerably high on that hierarchy.
They were a lineage of monstrously strong aura knights and mages who viewed commoners as insects, and servants as the dirt those insects crawled on.
"Move your feet, you lazy dog!" a harsh voice snapped, accompanied by the sharp crack of a leather crop against the cobblestones.
Leon flinched at the voice, his malnourished muscles aching and screaming in protest as he hurried to drag a massive wooden crate of imported flour across the courtyard.
He knew better than to look up at the estate guards. They were built like brick houses and would gladly break his ribs just for making eye contact.
But as he dragged the crate, he still managed to steal a glance toward the training grounds.
There she was, bathed cinematically in the morning sunlight.
Lady Seraphina Sterling, the eldest daughter of the house.
She was practicing her swordplay, and even from fifty yards away she was a sight that could stop a man’s heart. Tall, impossibly elegant, with silver hair that fell down her back like a waterfall of starlight.
She was wearing a skin-tight leather combat suit that hugged every single scandalous curve of her body, her ample chest heaving slightly with every vicious swing of her blade.
Suddenly, her sword blurred, and a wave of crimson aura exploded from the blade, strong enough to cleanly slice a boulder in half straight down the middle.
Leon swallowed hard, quickly dropping his gaze as a droplet of cold sweat rolled down his neck.
She was strong, scary as hell strong.
And so beautiful it physically hurt to look at her. The Sterling estate was entirely populated by women like her -- haughty, impossibly gorgeous goddesses who wielded the power to casually erase a building.
And then there was Leon.
Zero aura and zero mana with a body so weak he got winded walking up two flights of stairs.
’Where is it?’ he thought bitterly, gritting his teeth as a splinter from the crate dug into his palm. ’Status. Open System. Inventory. Golden Finger. Please, goddamn it, anything!’
Nothing happened.
He heared no chime or angelic voice, and no floating screen answered his desperate call.
His only response was the cruel, agonizing silence of his own reality. He had spent the last five days whispering trigger words like a madman in the dark of the servants’ quarters, only to be met with the snores of his fellow slaves.
He wasn’t the protagonist, he was an NPC meant to die in the background.
By the time he finally reached the grand kitchens of the estate, his arms were trembling uncontrollably and his vision was swimming.
"Put it by the larder, boy!" a shrill voice yelled out over the clatter of pots and pans.
Leon took a step, but his foot caught on a slightly raised floorboard.
His exhausted legs simply gave out.
He fell forward, the heavy crate slipping from his grip. It slammed into the stone floor with a sickening CRACK, the aged wood splintering apart.
A massive cloud of fine, white, expensive imported flour exploded outward, covering everything in a five-foot radius. Including him.
The bustling kitchen went dead silent.
Leon’s heart dropped into his stomach as he slowly pushed himself up onto his hands and knees, coughing as the white powder settled.
Footsteps approached.
They were slow but heavy, and dripping with murderous intent.
He looked up, his eyes traveling past a pair of black leather heels, up sheer stockings, past a frilly white apron, and settling on the most intimidating—and breathtaking—woman in the servants’ wing.
Elara, the Head Cook.
She was a woman in her mid-twenties, not of noble blood, but in this kitchen, she was the undisputed queen. She had a mature, sultry beauty that made the younger servants stammer when they spoke to her.
Currently, her black-and-white maid uniform looked like it was engaged in a desperate, losing battle to contain her absurdly voluptuous figure. The tight bodice strained against her massive breasts, and the skirt clung tightly to wide, sinful hips.
Right now, however, her striking face was twisted into a mask of pure demonic rage.
"You..." Elara breathed, her voice a dangerously low purr.
She reached down, grabbing the collar of his tunic, and hauled him to his feet with terrifying strength.
She pulled him close, too close.
Leon could smell the intoxicating blend of vanilla, cinnamon, and her own musky sweat. Her soft, heavy cleavage pressed directly against his chest, heat radiating from her skin. Under any other circumstance, it would have been absolute heaven.
Right now, he was pretty sure he was going to die.
"Do you have any idea how much that Elven flour costs, you pathetic, useless little worm?" Elara hissed, her ruby lips inches from his face. "Your miserable life isn’t worth a single handful of it!"
"I-I tripped," Leon stammered, his face burning red.
"You tripped," she mocked, her grip tightening, pulling him even flush against her soft, crushing curves. She leaned in, her eyes narrowing. "You are nothing but a waste of space, Leon. I should have you thrown to the hounds. I should—"
[DING!]
A sound like a crystal bell echoed in Leon’s skull.
He froze. Elara’s voice seemed to fade into muffled static.
Right between Elara’s furious face and his own, a translucent, neon-pink screen materialized in thin air.
[System Initialization Complete.]
[Scanning Host...]
[Assessment: Tragically pathetic. Zero mana, zero aura and zero maidens.]
[Host falls below the minimum standard for a living male.]
[Binding: ’The Pervert System’]
Leon’s eyes widened.
A system? Finally! But wait... The what System?!
Before he could even process the ridiculous name, the pink screen flashed, the text shifting rapidly.
[First Quest Issued: A Bold Rebuttal]
[Context: You are a man, yet you let a woman berate you while her chest is pressed against yours. Disgraceful. Establish dominance.]
[Objective: Squeeze Head Cook Elara’s left breast and look her in the eye while calling her a ’bad girl’.]
Leon’s breath hitched, it literally short-circuited.
What the actual f—
[Reward: First-Tier Mana Core Awakening, +10 Strength, Skill: ’Basic Caress’.]
[Failure Penalty: Immediate and explosive detonation of the Host’s testicles.]
He stared at the glowing pink text, a cold dread washing over him.
[Time Limit: 30 Seconds.]
[Countdown: 29... 28... 27...]
"Are you even listening to me, you little freak?!" Elara shouted, shaking him by the collar. Her ample chest bounced against him with the motion, soft and heavy.
Her amber eyes glared into his, demanding submission.
Leon looked at her furious, beautiful face.
Then he looked down at her chest, then back up at the ticking timer.
[Countdown: 20... 19... 18...]
Oh, God. He was going to die a second time.
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