Rick sat alone in the hospital room, as the pain between his legs had finally fade away.
He shifted on the hospital mattress. He needed to figure out exactly what weapons he had in his arsenal. The God of Mischief had jammed a cheat code into his brain, but right now, Rick didn't even know how much he could do with it?
"System," Rick whispered, "Show me my stats."
The air in front of him shimmered. The translucent blue interface materialized instantly, completely blocking out the blank hospital wall.
[Host Profile]
[Name: Rick Smith]
[Age: 22]
[Expected Lifespan: 120 Years (Extended by System)]
[Level: 1 (Experience: 0/1000)]
[Mischief Points: 100]
Rick stared at the 'Expected Lifespan' line. One hundred and twenty years. The old bastard had actually delivered.
Rick wasn't just healed from a fatal truck crash; his entire biological clock had been supercharged.
Rick looked further at the system notification and noticed the [Shop] button.
"Open the shop," Rick commanded.
The screen flickered. It switched from a basic profile layout into a massive, endlessly scrolling digital marketplace. It looked like the dark web.
Rick scrolled down the list, his eyes widening.
[Skill: Hypnotic Gaze (Passive)]
[Description: Lock eyes with any woman to instantly bypass her logical reasoning. She will strip, beg, or obey basic commands without questioning why. Leaves the target highly susceptible to suggestion.]
[Cost: 50,000 Mischief Points.]
[Skill: God's Stamina (Passive)]
[Description: Never tire during physical exertion. Maintain a rock-hard erection for up to eight hours without a refractory period. Pump like a jackhammer until the mattress breaks.]
[Cost: 125,000 Mischief Points.]
[Skill: Silver Tongue (Active)]
[Description: Your tongue vibrates at a micro-frequency. One minute of oral sex will forcefully trigger a mind-shattering, squirt-inducing climax in any female target, regardless of their current arousal level.]
[Cost: 15,000 Mischief Points.]
Rick licked his dry lips.
His mind wandered off as he imagined using that 'Silver Tongue' skill on Dr. Vance.
He pictured pushing her down onto this very hospital bed, ripping off her blouse, and burying his face right between those heavy, mature breasts. He imagined grabbing her tight bun, pulling her dark hair roughly until she gasped, and forcing her to beg for it.
But then he looked at the top right corner of the screen.
[Current Balance: 100 Mischief Points]
Rick scowled, "God! nothing is easy these days."
He was completely broke. He had earned exactly one hundred points for blackmailing Maya into giving him her phone number. At this rate, he would need to harass five hundred nurses just to afford the hypnosis skill.
The system was basically a pay-to-win mobile game.
"Absolute bullshit," Rick muttered, closing the shop tab.
He noticed a small golden icon flashing in the bottom corner of his vision. It looked like a wrapped present. He tapped it mentally.
[Item: Beginner's Gift Box]
[Status: Unopened. Earned from completing the First Quest.]
[Open now? Y/N]
"Yes."
The digital box shook violently on the screen before exploding into a shower of golden pixels. A new notification popped up, flashing brightly.
[Congratulations! You have received x3 Free Spins on the Mischief Lottery.]
The interface shifted again. A massive, glowing roulette wheel appeared in the centre of his vision. The wheel was divided into dozens of thin slices, ranging from dull grey to glowing, vibrant purple and gold.
"Alright," Rick muttered, leaning forward. "Let's see what the casino has to offer."
He mentally tapped on the wheel, and the wheel spun in a blur of colours.
A loud, ticking sound echoed in his skull. It slowed down, ticking past a golden slice, creeping over a blue one, and finally stopping dead on a bright green section.
Ding!
[Spin 1 Complete.]
[Reward: High-End Designer Wardrobe (Physical Item)]
[Description: A perfectly tailored, charcoal-grey bespoke suit. Comes with Italian leather shoes, a silk tie, and a solid gold Rolex Daytona watch. Because nobody respects a man in a cheap off-the-rack suit.]
[Item sent to Inventory.]
Rick smirked. The system was insulting his old life, but he didn't care. Even the cheapest of the Rolex alone was worth thousands of dollars.
He spun the wheel a second time.
It blurred, the ticking sound accelerating. This time, it slowed down much faster, coming to a dead stop on a dull, depressing grey slice.
Buzz!
[Spin 2 Complete.]
[Reward: Better luck next time, loser.]
"Don't you have a personality?!" Rick flipped off the translucent screen, "Fuck you too."
He had one free spin left. He took a deep breath. He didn't want another piece of useless junk. He needed something practical. Something that would let him level the playing field right now, before he even stepped out of this hospital.
He spun the wheel one last time.
The colours turned into a solid, glowing ring. It spun for a long time, the ticking echoing loudly. It finally started to decelerate. It ticked past grey. It ticked past green. It ticked past blue.
It stopped dead on a violently glowing purple slice.
Ding!
[Spin 3 Complete.]
[Reward: Skill Card - Mischief's Touch (Temporary)]
[Rarity: Epic]
Rick leaned in, his eyes scanning the description quickly.
[Item: Mischief's Touch (Skill Card)]
[Duration: 1 Hour upon activation.]
[Description: Channel raw, chaotic energy into your fingertips.]
[ Effect on Men: A single touch will instantly relax their sphincter muscles and induce violent, explosive diarrhoea. Perfect for eliminating competition.]
[ Effect on Women: A single touch bypasses all psychological barriers, flooding their nervous system with pure dopamine. Touch an Ice Queen, and watch her melt.]
Rick stared at the glowing purple card rotating on his screen.
"Not bad! Not bad! Not bad at all!" He let out a loud, genuine laugh. This was exactly what he needed.
He sent the card to his inventory.
Rick swiped his hand, opening the Inventory tab. It looked like a standard RPG grid. In the first slot sat the digital icon of the grey suit and the Rolex. In the second slot sat the glowing purple skill card. In the third slot sat a grey fuzzball of pocket lint.
He selected the first slot.
[Extract Physical Item: High-End Designer Wardrobe?]
[Y/N]
"Yes!".
He expected a bright flash of light, or maybe some magical sparkles. But there was nothing like that. The air simply warped for a fraction of a second, letting out a sharp pop of displaced oxygen.
Suddenly, a heavy weight dropped directly onto his lap.
Rick gasped. He looked down.
Laying across his lap, right on top of the thin hospital blanket, was a pristine, perfectly pressed charcoal-grey suit inside a black garment bag. Sitting on top of the bag was a polished wooden box.
Rick reached out. His hands were shaking slightly. He ran his fingers over the dark fabric of the suit protruding from the bag. It was incredibly soft, heavier and richer than anything he had ever touched in his miserable life. It smelled like expensive wool and fresh dry cleaning.
He opened the wooden box.
Inside, resting on a black velvet cushion, was a solid gold Rolex Daytona. The polished metal caught the harsh fluorescent light of the hospital room, gleaming flawlessly. The second hand swept across the black dial in a perfectly smooth, continuous motion.
Rick picked up the watch. The metal was cold. It was heavy. It was completely, undeniably real.
He had just pulled physical matter out of thin air using a digital screen only he could see.
Reality wasn't just bent. It was completely shattered. The laws of physics, economics, and biology were officially dead to him.
Rick pulled off his faded blue hospital gown, throwing it onto the floor. He stood completely naked in the middle of the room, feeling the cool air against his skin. He didn't care if a nurse walked in. He didn't care about anything.
He ripped the suit out of the garment bag and started getting dressed.
The trousers fit his waist perfectly. The crisp white shirt hugged his shoulders like it was tailored specifically for his exact measurements. He slipped his feet into the polished Italian leather shoes. Finally, he slid the gold Rolex onto his left wrist and snapped the clasp shut.
He walked over to the small mirror above the sterile hospital sink.
He stared at his reflection. The pathetic, exhausted loser who had been rejected by a fat HR manager just hours ago was completely gone. The guy staring back was sharp, imposing, and reeked of dangerous, old money.
Rick adjusted his cuffs.
He wasn't going to wait around for Dr. Vance to come back and run a psychiatric evaluation. He was leaving.
Rick turned around, grabbed the heavy wooden door handle, and walked out into the hospital corridor.
** ** ** ** **
[A/N: For every 50 Power stones, I will release a bonus chapter the next day! Keep supporting the story.]