Chapter 6: No One’s Pulling Out Tonight

Nash leaned against the rusted fence of the court, hands buried in the pockets of his hoodie.

Laughter, jeers, and the rhythmic bounce of balls now softened under the dull noise of the underground city.

Most of the crowd had scattered, off to chase dinner, drama, or whatever the night promised.

His pulse had finally calmed.

But his head? Still twirling.

System open, points earned, growth unlocked.

He wasn’t sure if it was just in his head, but something felt different.

His back sat straighter without him forcing it. His feet felt firmer on the pavement. Even the way his shirt hung on his shoulders was less like a hanger and more like someone with presence.Still... He wasn’t tall. He wasn’t strong. And he sure as hell wasn’t popular.

But now?

Now he had something.

He pulled up the interface again.

[DOMINANCE EVOLUTION SYSTEM]



User: Nash Blaze

Titles:

→ [Low-Grade Human]

→ [Discarded Point Guard]

→ [Shrimp]

Class: Streetball Candidate (Unranked)

Tier: Shrimp

Playstyle Affinity: Ghost Playmaker

Seduction Potential: Locked

Allocatable Points:

• PP (Play Points): 5

• SP (Seduction Points): 5

• BP (Body Points): 0

BODY INTERFACE

• Height: 164 cm

• Weight: 54 kg

• Frame: Narrow, low-density musculature

• Muscle Mass Index: 24/100

• Flexibility: 44/100

• Recovery Speed: 38/100

• Visual Impact Rating: ★☆☆☆☆

BASKETBALL STATS

General Performance:

• Agility: 38 (Clunky footwork)

• Reflex: 35 (Late reaction time)

• Strength: 22 (No body presence)

• Stamina: 41 (Burns out before 2nd half)

• Focus: 48 (Loses concentration under pressure)

• Court Sense: 77 (Elite vision, team synergy buff)

Skill-Based:

• Short Shot: 44

• Long Shot: 29

• Dunk Ability: 11

• Defense: 26

• Passing: 82 (Core strength)

• Rebound: 33

• Movement IQ: 50 (Developing instincts)

SEXUAL STATS

Seduction Profile:

• Charisma: 31 ("Friend-zoned")

• Virility: 29 (Low libido impression)

• Endurance: 16 (Climaxes fast, needs long rest)

• Tease: 24 (Poor dress/seduction tactics)

• Domination: 17 (Submissive, lacks edge)

Sexual Form:

• Length: 10.9 cm (Below average)

• Girth: 7.9 cm circumference (Thin, low pressure)

• Control: 18 / 100 (Overstimulated, no rhythm)

• Appeal Rating: ★☆☆☆☆

Nash scrolled through the stats slowly, thinking.

He’d already spent his 2 Body Points earlier, boosting muscle mass. He couldn’t touch those now.

But with 5 SP and 5 PP on the table?

This was where he could shape what came next.

"Let’s be honest," he muttered. "I’m not charming. I’m not sexy. I can barely hold eye contact unless it’s Zayela chewing me out."

So... Charisma first.

+2 SP → Charisma (33 → 35)

It made sense. He didn’t need to become Casanova overnight. He just needed people to listen, maybe laugh, maybe lean in instead of walking away.

"And teasing... I suck at it. But girls like that vibe. Something playful."

+1 SP → Tease (24 → 25)

"Now... Control? Cause no girl’s gonna mess with a dude who can’t even keep his cool."

He hesitated. The number felt awkward to touch. But he tapped it anyway.

+1 SP → Control (18 → 19)

"One more. If I want to take the lead... Oh, maybe domination."

+1 SP → Domination (17 → 18)

Not much. But enough.

A few tweaks. Enough to stop being invisible. Enough to have a shot.

He slid over to the basketball tab.

This was home, way easier than choosing what girls wanted.

"Alright, I don’t have power, I don’t have hops, but I’ve got eyes. I’m good with passing, so I can ignore it for now... I think I need more speed and moves to begin with."

+2 PP → Agility (38 → 40)

+1 PP → Reflex (35 → 36)

+1 PP → Movement IQ (50 → 51)

+1 PP → Defense (26 → 27)

Fast feet. Fast hands. A step ahead.

Even if his body didn’t scream "threat," his playstyle could.

He let the screen fade, chest rising as the stats processed. A low shimmer of light rippled over his skin, like warm static, vanishing just as quick.

No fireworks.

No dramatic transformation.

Just the quiet certainty of progress.

And in this world, that was everything.

He started walking slowly toward the edge of the block. The underground city moved around him. Lights flickered from vendor stalls, old signs blinked overhead, and steam hissed out from the grates.

It was crowded, but not busy. Just people surviving.

He rubbed his shoulder as he walked, feeling every bit of the day catching up to him. Muscles tight, knees sore. No way he could hit more drills tonight.



So maybe he could try the flirt quest again.

He looked around, tried a few smiles. Started a short chat with a girl standing by a noodle stall, she barely answered before her boyfriend showed up. Another girl shook her head before he even finished his compliment. One didn’t bother to look his way.

Nash let out a small breath and sat on the curb beside a faded red noodle cart. Even with his improvements, he was still a shrimp and needed more work.

But he didn’t sulk long. His mind was already moving to another solution.

He thought about Lina and Sarra. He had given them a good impression and promised them both something. Maybe he could reach out to them now.

But he shook his head. Even he knew that going now might be a mistake. He had time; it was only the first day, and he had gained many points. He would try again tomorrow and approach them naturally.

If he played smartly, he could use them every day for his quest. But then, with Lina’s love for wealth, he needed a job.

So he got back up, brushing dust off his pants, and headed home.

As the light got dimmer, the street got rougher. Alley walls were closer here. Voices got sharper. A couple of girls leaned against a pole near a neon-lit alleyway, heavy makeup, short skirts, cold eyes.

He glanced at the prostitutes, thinking they might be a good plan B. But he kept walking.

Finally, he turned the last corner. Home was in sight.

Their shop was small, just wide enough for a cracked counter and a shelf of junk. The sign above was missing letters. Just "Repa" now. It used to say "Repairs."

Zayela tried to make it work. Sold broken tools, patched speakers, and snacks when she had stock. Their bed was behind a curtain, a thin mattress laid over crates.

But tonight, something wasn’t right.

Nash slowed.

Two men stood at the entrance, both too well-dressed for this part of the district. One was talking low. The other leaned against the doorframe like he owned the place.

Zayela stood in front of them, jaw tight. She held a piece of paper in her hand, wrinkled and damp from her grip.

Nash didn’t have to guess.

The same ones who kept showing up with new threats. New deals. Offering "help" in the form of something darker. Pushing Zayela toward their escort network.

He felt heat rise in his neck.

Not again.

He stepped forward, his fists clenched without him even realizing it.

Enough was enough.

As he approached, he recognized them.

The taller one, Jento, wearing a slick faux-leather coat, gold rings flashing as he gestured lazily. Bald head, crooked smile, and the other, Pez, shorter, thicker, with a scar that ran from his temple down to the edge of his jaw.

Jento’s voice was low, coaxing.

"C’mon, Zayela. You’re smarter than this. A body like yours? It doesn’t belong behind a counter. We both know it."

"I said I’d figure it out," she replied, strained. "I just need more time."

Pez chuckled.

"Time’s done. You’re outta rope. Might as well grab the better deal before we make the call for you."

Nash stopped short when he saw her nod. Zayela was giving in.

He stepped forward.

"What’s that?" Nash asked, walking straight up and plucking the paper from her fingers before she could react.

Zayela’s eyes widened.

"Nash, don’t."

He unfolded it slowly. A contract. To work as a prostitute.

"You were actually going to sign this?"

Zayela’s breath caught. She reached for his wrist, gently, like trying to calm a shaking wire.

"Nash, listen to me. It’s not what you think. I was just trying to buy us time."

He didn’t pull away. But he didn’t look at her, either.

"You can’t," he said quietly, voice tightening. "You can’t be thinking about this. Not you."

She exhaled through her nose. Her tone sharpened, motherly but with a warning edge.

"This isn’t your business right now. Go inside."

He looked at her then.

"No," he said.

She blinked.

"No more hiding. No more letting you carry everything while I pretend I’m chasing something big. You’ve been breaking yourself to hold this together, and I’ve been sleeping in the back like that’s okay. It’s not."

Something in his voice, how grounded it was, how full of shame but full of resolve, stopped her.

He turned and stepped in front of her.

"You did all this for me. Every bit of it. The loans, the shop, the food, the gear. You believed in me even when I didn’t. And I didn’t give you anything back but more weight to hold."

He looked at the two men, eyes steady.

"This is my debt now. You don’t bring it to her again. You don’t talk to her like that. Ever."

The taller man laughed.

"And what? You gonna pay us in pocket lint and pipe dreams?"

He stepped toward Nash, face twisting into a sneer.

"Listen, kid. Don’t know what you’re playing at, but I suggest you step back real slow. This ain’t your fight."

Zayela pushed past him, hands up in a placating gesture.

"Please. I’ll figure it out, yeah? Just... just give me a few more days."

The loan shark’s eyes roamed over her, lingering on the curves of her body. He licked his lips.

"Oh, I know you will. A prime piece like you? Bet you’re real popular. Make a killing off you."

Pez laughed.

"Yeah, she’d be the star. Pop her out real nice. Wear her as much as you want."

Nash stepped forward, fists clenched.

"I said, don’t you fuckin’ talk to her like that."

The man’s head whipped toward him, eyes hard.

"Did you just grow a pair or somethin’?"

Nash didn’t back down.

"She’s my family. You don’t get to look at her like that. Not ever."

Zayela grabbed his shoulder, trying to pull him back.

Nash shook her off. Glared at the loan sharks.

"You stay the fuck away from us, yeah? She ain’t yours. Never gonna be."

The taller man’s eyes narrowed. His hand twitched, like he was reaching for something at his hip.

"You don’t know what you’re messin’ with, kid. You don’t know who you’re crossin’."

Pez snorted.

"Yeah, you’re just gonna roll over and show your belly for us, ain’t ya?"

The taller man turned to Zayela, his voice silky.

"We’ll give your little pipsqueak here a few days. Let him stew on it. But the next time we show up, you best be ready to claim your place with us. Or else."

He stepped closer, looming over her. Leaned in real close, his breath hot on her cheek.

"You’ll be a learning experience for the whole crew, yeah? A real initiation. I’ll make sure your mouth fits real nice around everyone’s cock."

Zayela flinched, but Nash locked his knees, standing his ground.

The loan shark just laughed, stepping back. Clapped Pez on the shoulder.

"C’mon. Leave them to it. We’ll be back."

They sauntered off, Pez spitting on the ground as he passed Nash.



Zayela sagged against the counter, hand over her mouth. Nash grabbed her arm, turning her to face him.

"Don’t," he said, voice low. "Don’t you ever consider it, yeah? I’ll fix this. I’ll find a way."

She stared at him for a long moment. Then, slowly, she nodded.

Her hand lingered on his shoulder, like she saw him differently now. Like maybe he wasn’t so helpless after all.

But she smiled, eyes soft. Squeezed his arm gently.

"Okay, Nash. Okay. Now c’mon. Let’s get inside."

They stepped back into the little shop together. The door swung shut behind them, a thin barrier between them and the dangers that lurked in the district.

Nash locked it with a soft click.

Then he turned to face his cousin, jaw tight.

"I mean it, Zayela. No more. I’ll take care of it. I’ll clean this place out, find some lost change in the couch cushions, whatever it takes. But you don’t sell yourself. Not for me. Not for anything. Please."

She smiled up at him, something tender in her eyes.

"Okay, big guy, okay. We’ll figure it out together."