Harem Streamer System: Every Crime I Broadcast Wins Me a Superheroine

Metro Daily Rooftop – Midnight Sky Over the City

The rooftop hummed like it was a machine.

But that was just the Arcforge Omni-Fabricator — its sleek, hyper-advanced structure fully unfolded into a miniaturized factory of impossible engineering.

Gleaming plates shifted, molecular assemblers worked in tandem, and a soft blue glow radiated from the core of the machine as Scott stood before it, completely locked in his focus.

His hands moved rapidly through the air, manipulating a lattice of micro holographic wires and quantum circuitry that floated before him.

His brow furrowed as he refined the holographic blueprint, a tubular construct with a smooth yet slightly wider top — a device that was beginning to take shape within the Omni-Fabricator's processors.

His eyes gleamed beneath the dark strands of his hair as he exhaled sharply in a low but firm voice.

"System, can you mimic the sound of the intergalactic beacon again?"

A brief pause.

Then, the System's synthetic voice echoed in his mind.

[Accessing high-level audio sensors from Blue Rock Satellite prior to beacon departure. Cross-referencing with pre-exit frequency measurements. Recording… Replicating with required adjustments… Done.]

Scott smirked slightly.

That was exactly what he needed.

The System had snagged the purest version of the beacon's transmission right before it breached the Kármán Line, capturing the precise frequency before the vacuum of space twisted it into oblivion.

Then, a sound pierced the air.

A screeching, oscillating tone, unnatural and eerie, resonated from the device in the fabricator's grasp. The very space around him quivered, shimmering like distorted glass in a heatwave.

Tiny fractures formed—tears in space itself.

Scott's breath hitched.

His eyes widened in stunned amazement.

"Holy hell…"

He muttered, watching as tiny rips in reality flickered like cracks in a mirror, revealing glimpses of something else — somewhere else — before vanishing as the sound faded into silence.

The rooftop was still again.

He exhaled, shaking his head in disbelief.

He had just witnessed the impossible — a sound that could literally fold space.

His gaze snapped back to the blueprint.

"I can't beat that alien chick in a fight. No way in hell."

His voice was steady but still had that cold realism.

"But if she needed a beacon to get here…"

He tapped the floating holographic schematics, refining the last details.

"Then all I have to do is reverse-engineer the sound and make a suitable facsimile that'll do the job. In other words, make a damn good fake and send her back."

He placed a hand on his chin.

"Alright, let's break it down—"

His voice took on that half-mocking, half-impressed tone he got when he surprised even himself.

"This thing emits a sound frequency that gets converted into Hawking radiation vibrations—and these particles? They're literally woven into the fabric of spacetime itself. So, if I use the sound waves to force them into a synchronized resonance, I create a standing wave pattern in spacetime. That amplifies energy density at certain points, and when it hits a critical threshold…"

A slow, knowing smirk tugged at his lips.

"Boom. Microscopic wormhole."

He nodded and smirked.

"The rest is just pizza in slices."

He crossed his arms, tilting his head slightly, both confused and impressed at what he had just engineered.

"Huh… so, I just stumbled into the key to intergalactic teleportation like it was nothing? Wild."

The System chimed in smoothly.

[It is because the Host possesses a truly impressive adaptive existence capable of overcoming any scenario, no matter how impossible it may seem.]

A low chuckle rumbled from Scott's throat.

"Damn, System, that's probably the best compliment I've ever gotten. Feels like my own little superpower."

Then, a thought hit him, and he lifted an eyebrow.

"But System — what about getting a force-gene? Like, I wasn't born superabled, but Maya wasn't either. She got hers from a lab accident, so maybe if I—"

He stopped mid-sentence.

His eyes flicked toward the police communication device sitting a few meters away.

"All law enforcement agents — evacuate all civilians within a 100-meter radius of the Metro Daily landmark. A confrontation with an unidentified villain is underway. The suspect has flipped a vehicle — with a civilian still inside."

There was a brief silence — then, the feed erupted with the ever familiar thunder of gunfire.

Scott's eyes sharpened.

"Tch."

No hesitation.

His hand snatched the completed device from the fabricator — now officially christened the Sound-Induced Spacetime Teleporter, or SIST.

Then, with a fluid, practiced motion, the shadow at his neckline slithered upward and morphed into the sleek contours of his high-tech mask.

A faint blue energy pulse flickered across its surface as the visor locked into place.

He stepped forward—

And jumped.

The wind howled around him as he dove off the high-rise rooftop, slicing through the night air like a human jet.

Scott tightened his grip on the device.

"I'm sending her back…"

━ ━ ━ ━

There was absolute chaos in the streets.

The gunfire was relentless.

Flashing muzzles sparked the night as the cops poured round after round into Ezel, but the bullets might as well have been confetti for all the good they did.

Ezel's face twisted in disgust as the metallic projectiles bounced harmlessly off her skin.

They didn't hurt. Not even a little.

The only thing bothering her was the sheer annoyance — like being swarmed by a thousand tiny flies.

She let out an irritated breath, flicking a stray bullet off her shoulder like it was lint.

One officer, a rookie by the looks of it, had been firing non-stop—until his hands started shaking. Fear gripped him like an iron vice, his shots growing wilder and wilder.

Then, with a sharp gasp, he took a shaky step back.

Commissioner Bennett caught it instantly.

"Officer, don't lose your focus!"

Bennett barked, reloading his pistol without breaking stride.

"Keep firing! Don't show your fear—"

But it was already too late.

The cop's gun clattered to the pavement.

"NAAAHH, FUCK THIS! Why do they always send cops to fight these superpowered villains before these damn heroes arrives for fuck's sake ── ?! It's not like these guns are gonna do anything. I'm out!"

His body moved before his mind could catch up.

Pure, animalistic panic setting in as he turned to run.

He didn't make it far.

Ezel blurred forward.

A violent gust of wind blasted outward from her movement — then, in one smooth, almost casual motion, she ripped the man's head clean off his shoulders.

The wet, sickening sound of tearing flesh and snapping bone echoed through the street.

For a second, the other officers were frozen.

Then—

"OH SHIT—"

"OH NAW, THIS AIN'T WHAT I SIGNED UP FOR!"

"FALL BACK! FALL BACK!"

She barely had to do anything.

The moment they saw their fellow officer's head hit the bloody ground, half the squad turned and ran.

The other half didn't even get that chance.

Ezel's glowing red eyes flared.

Twin beams of burning heat erupted from her irises.

It mercilessly swept across the retreating cops.

BZZZZZZTTT!!

Four officers barely had time to scream before their skulls burst apart like overripe melons—charred bits of bone and blood splattering across the pavement gruesomely.

The stench of cooked flesh polluted the air.

Even The Peak, who had long since abandoned all pretense of heroism and was hiding behind a car, winced as if he had been the one turned into bloody mist.

"Damn…"

He muttered under his shaky breath.

"That must've hurt like a bitch…"

Ezel turned her attention back to Commissioner Bennett, who was still standing his ground.

He didn't flinch. Didn't even hesitate.

Even as he watched his men get slaughtered like livestock, he just gritted his teeth, reloaded, and kept firing.

"Leave my men out of this, murderer!" he roared.

BANG.

Another shot, another bullet that did absolutely nothing.

Ezel sighed.

Then — without even looking — she swatted the next bullet straight back at him.

It tore clean through his knee.

"AAAGH—SON OF A BITCH!"

Bennett hit the ground, clutching his leg as pain exploded through his body. Blood pooled beneath him as his breath turned ragged.

Before he could even get a handle on the agony, Ezel was already standing over him.

Her irises glowed once more—pulsing with intense, searing light.

She was about to finish him.

Then—

WHIRR—

The thunderous sound of chopper blades sliced through the drumming air.

Ezel's eyes snapped upward as two news choppers hovered above as their powerful spotlights illuminated the scene bloody below.

Inside one of the choppers, a blonde-haired woman leaned into the camera with a smug, self-satisfied expression.

Stacy Brant.

Metro Daily's most insufferably proud reporter.

She had a microphone in hand as her voice carried over the speakers—

"The Hero Agency claims to have dispatched an S-tier hero to stop this rampaging female threat—but as of yet, there has been no sign of a he—"

She stopped.

Her eyes flicked downward.

The spotlight followed her gaze.

And landed—

Directly on The Peak.

Hunched behind a car.

Trying his absolute damnedest to stay out of harm's way.

For a split second, his entire brain crashed.

Then, internally—

『OH FUCKING HELL—』

Externally—

His jaw clenched, but he forced a bright, heroic smile.

Like a man pretending he totally hadn't been cowering like a little bitch two seconds ago, he patted the car he had been hiding behind and straightened up.

"AHAHAHA!"

He laughed boisterously.

"Unlike other heroes, who recklessly destroy public property in their battles, I, The Peak, ensure that the cars of our admirable hard-working citizens remain intact! That is the true measure of a hero!"

The cameras loved it.

Stacy Brant giggled behind her mic, then flipped her blonde hair with overcooked grace.

"As usual, The Peak shows deep consideration for the middle class, understanding their financial sacrifices and choosing to protect their valuable property. Truly, he is a hero!"

The Peak chuckled, running a hand through his perfectly styled, gelled hair.

"Yes, yes, I am amazing," he said. "Do go on."

Judy, who was still nursing a concussion and a pile of so many terrible life decisions, clicked her tongue in disgust.

"Really?"

She muttered, dragging a hand down her tired face.

"I have to see both that bitch, Stacy Brant, and The Peak in one day? My car got destroyed. That dickhead was kissing this crazy, superpowered chick like it was nothing. And now I have to deal with this bullshit."

She let out the loudest, most exaggerated sigh imaginable.

"Worst. Fucking. Day."

The Peak marched forward.

With surprising confidence.

He strode straight toward Ezel, his chest puffed out and his golden hair dramatically fluttering behind him as if he were striding into a grand final battle.

Stopping just a few feet from the superpowered terror, he lifted a single hand—

And pointed directly at her.

"Villain!"

His voice rang loud, bold, heavy with self-importance.

"You have done well to test my patience, but I shall now grant you something I like to call… the Moment of Mercy!"

The air in the street turned heavy.

The cops, the bystanders, even Commissioner Bennett — still groaning from his bleeding knee — stared in shock.

Still nursing her head, Judy just stared blankly.

『This idiot… really thinks he's in a movie.』

Oblivious to all, The Peak continued, dramatically lifting three fingers into the air.

"I will count down from three."

His heroic voice boomed with self-righteous authority.

"And in this time, you must decide whether or not you will act foolish and—"

He never got to finish.

Ezel flashed across the dark street.

There was a sudden, bone-snapping CRACK!

A strangled, breathless noise escaped The Peak's lips.

His once proud, confident face twisted into raw pain.

Ezel had ripped his arm out of its socket.

Not cleanly. Not mercifully.

Just a single, brutal pull — so sudden, so monstrous in strength — that a little more force might've torn it clean off.

The Peak didn't even get to scream.

Before he could, something much, much worse happened.

A powerful hand clamped down on his most precious assets.

His family jewels.

A very loud, but somehow suppressed cry squeezed out of his mouth.

It was… strange.

It didn't sound like a man's scream.

Didn't sound like any normal person in pain.

It almost sounded like… a cat.

His entire body went rigid and his knees buckled as he stood frozen in sheer, unrelenting agony.

More tears forced their way up.

His entire soul screamed to let them out — but somehow he held them back.

But his face was bright, burning red.

His entire being trembled.

Standing before him, Ezel looked unimpressed.

She tightened her grip — just slightly—

And The Peak's entire soul nearly left his body.

Her eyes slowly, lazily, scanned him from head to toe.

Then she sighed.

"I've never seen a more shameless man in my life. There are countless lesser men on this planet… but you…"

She tilted her head.

"You don't have a single scent of masculinity on you."

A sneer curled her lips.

"You reek of semen and desperation."

Another squeeze.

A high-pitched, feminine grunt escaped The Peak's throat.

Tears finally spilled down his cheeks.

And yet—he was still grinning.

Watching this, Stacy Brant and Judy Cho both just stood there, speechless. Neither of them knew what it actually felt like to have their family jewels crushed like that — but from the pure agony on The Peak's bright-red face…

They could imagine.

Even the cops — those who had fled, and the ones who were still alive — grimaced.

Commissioner Bennett clenched his jaw.

"Nghk—" h

He groaned, pressing a bloody hand against his knee.

"I… I have to help… him…"

A coughing wheeze left his lips.

"It's what Nightwatch would do."

Far away, traveling like a speed-breaking streak of darkness, Scott — watching the scene through his drones — tiredly and honestly muttered to himself—

"Ehhh… not really."

Back to The Peak.

Tears ran freely down his face. His lips quivered.

And yet, somehow, he still managed to force out a very weak and empty smile.

His trembling hand slowly lifted.

And then, he placed it on Ezel's shoulder.

His voice, shaky but oddly composed, left his lips.

"So… what reason… do we have to hate each other?"

His eyes flicked toward the cops.

To Bennett. To the bloody massacre in the street.

His breathing was heavy. But his grin remained.

"It's absurd… we just met… we've hardly spoken."

His lips curled into something almost wistful.

He looked like a monk… maybe even a sage.

His voice lowered, softer—almost philosophical.

"I don't have a single enemy among these men…"

He turned back to Ezel.

"So why… why should we be enemies?"

For a brief second—just a split second—

Ezel actually paused. She stared at him. Face blank.

Then—she lifted her other hand.

And formed a fist. The Peak barely had time to blink.

"Because…"

Her fist got tighter and pulsed with raw power alone.

"You're weak."

Her fist drew back.

"And I hate lesser men."

Then—everything turned to darkness.

A surge of absolute night crashed through the entire street.

The air itself twisted. Lights snuffed out. Nothing.

Not a single streetlamp. Not a single flicker of glow.

Just abyss.

Then—in a single instant—

The darkness vanished. The street returned.

The lights came back. And—

Ezel was gone.

Silence.

Absolute, stunned silence.

Then—

"…Huh?"

Judy Cho blinked.

She rubbed her aching temple, wincing at the throbbing pain in her skull.

"… The fuck just happened?"

Right above, Stacy Brant's brows shot up.

She looked at the cameras. Then back at The Peak.

Then, in a moment of pure, perfect media training—

She gasped. And turned toward the news crew.

"I-, It looks like…" she stammered.

Then, regaining her composure, she flipped her blonde hair with more overcooked grace.

"It appears… that The Peak has somehow managed to use his unfathomable strength to reduce the unidentified superwoman into…"

A dramatic pause. Then, staring into the camera—

"Nothing."

The Peak, still half-crippled in pain, barely standing, his knees still buckling from the trauma—

His lips twitched.

Slowly, his grin returned.

He ran a trembling hand through his gelled hair.

And in his most heroic voice possible—He laughed.

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

Then—

"… Yes."

A grin, cocky as ever.

"Yes, yes," he muttered, barely able to breathe.

His entire face was red. His balls were screaming.

But the cameras were on him.

So he straightened his back. Lifted his head.

And forced out the words—

"I am amazing."