My Borderline Supervillain-Slash-Hero System

Asphalt Emberfall didn't hold back, pointing out their shamelessness and foolishness for all to hear.

Yether continued to glare at Zane, but she knew the reputation of Asphalt the Nitpicker. Staying longer would only invite more humiliation from him, and she had no desire to spar verbally with someone like that.

With a final glare, she and her cronies carried the unconscious Issah Ironsong and left the scene.

Some members of the Ironsong family witnessed the whole event, but chose not to intervene. They didn't want to be dragged down by the disgrace. Besides, Zane's sudden and precise strike still unsettled them. None of them could figure out how he had done it.

Zane returned to his corner and sat down, uninterested in making conversation—especially with the man who'd technically helped him. He viewed Asphalt as a chatterbox and had no intention of getting involved with someone who liked to hear himself talk.

Yet despite the fight being over and Issah's group long gone, the crowd's attention hadn't shifted. Asphalt remained nearby, and many expected him to provoke Zane next.

But he didn't.

Instead, Asphalt walked over and took a seat not far from him.

"Hi," he said casually. "I'm Asphalt Emberfall of the Emberfall family."

Zane turned to glance at him, still chewing on a skewer of barbecued fish. "Nice to meet you, Asphalt. I'm Zane Carter, from Whistler Town."

"What's that you're eating? Can I have one? I'll pay you in core stones," Asphalt said, his tone light and friendly.

Zane pulled a skewer from his silk pouch and handed it over. "No need to pay. It's well-barbecued river monster meat. Consider it thanks for chasing off those annoying pests."

Asphalt took a bite—and his eyes lit up. Without a word, he devoured the rest like a starving wolf. After finishing, he wiped his hands and mouth clean with a silk handkerchief and turned serious.

"Zane, I'll be completely honest with you," he said, looking directly at him. "Everyone here hates you because of your father. Nobody wants to talk to you."

"I know," Zane replied quietly, finally turning to face him with a sharp, thoughtful gaze. "What about you? You're talking to me."

"I don't have a reason not to," Asphalt said bluntly. "Let's not pretend—we both know what's what. Yeah, I used to feel the same as everyone else. I didn't like you. No—more than that—I hated you when your name went viral… tied to him."

He paused, eyes narrowing slightly. "Zorro—the Scorn of Humanity. What he did to the Divine Tree? That was nothing short of betrayal. And you… you're his son. But…"

"But?" Zane prompted. Something about Asphalt's brutally honest tone didn't offend him. Not like others. Not even like Shelby's blind acceptance. He wasn't sure why, but he felt no anger toward this guy.

"But," Asphalt continued after a pause, "I don't think that's right anymore. I still hate you, yeah… but I've come to believe you're the victim here. You're you. What your father did… that's on him. Not on you."

He went on, "From the moment you showed up in that boat, I've been watching you. Gotta admit, you made an entrance—but that didn't impress me. What did impress me was how you kept walking even when people threw their filth at you with every word. That kind of patience? That's rare. Then Issah came, barking like a dog and picking fights. You didn't even flinch. That told me something."

Zane frowned. "Told you what?"

"I saw it in your eyes," Asphalt said simply.

"In my eyes?"

"Yeah. Remorse. Sadness. But more than that—hatred. A storm of emotions, all buried deep. And when Issah insulted your father? You didn't react. That's when I knew—you hate him more than anyone else here, don't you?"

"Hey," Zane snapped, scowling. "Don't talk about him if you're trying to start a friendly chat."

"There it is," Asphalt said, nodding with a sly grin. "The angst. You're a curious guy, Zane from Whistler Town. I can't help but want to be your friend."

"You're just like the others," Zane muttered. "I don't need your pity."

"Nope. Pity's for the weak. What I have is called empathy. Don't hate yourself so much… Still, I don't like you."

Despite himself, Zane felt something shift. Asphalt's words, raw and unfiltered, hit a nerve—dug deep into a corner of his mind he rarely touched. And for some reason… he felt lighter.

"Alright," Asphalt said, scratching the back of his head. "Enough of my rambling. I'll cut to the chase. This next part of the trip's going to be rough. I'm putting a team together—got one spot left. Want in?"

Zane raised a brow. "You're from the Emberfall Nobility. Why not just team up with your own people? No risk of betrayal that way."

He glanced ahead—several top-rankers had already grouped up with their own families.

"Ha! No way," Asphalt scoffed. "Those pampered brats drive me insane. They're the ones who gave me the nickname 'Nitpicker.' I've got my own kind of people."

"Oh? You already have other members?"

"Of course." Asphalt turned and beckoned toward the rear of the crowd.

Zane followed his gaze. The noise behind them shifted—people muttering, stepping aside as two figures moved through the crowd. No one dared to curse at them. In fact, they cleared the path.

A voice nearby hissed in warning, "Shut up, brat. Those two are the infamous twin monsters of the Varkoss Guideline family—Dar Varkoss and Har Varkoss."

Zane watched them approach. Dar, the girl, was stunning even without makeup, though her fashion sense was wildly out of place. Her brother, Har, looked exactly like her—except he was overweight. Both had unreadable, serious expressions.

He recognized them.

"The Varkoss Nobles," he murmured. "The family that tames Corrupted Beasts."

The two didn't walk—they rode.

Mounted atop a hulking boar, its thick fur rippled with power. A beast with a Two-Star core rating.

Zane narrowed his eyes. This wasn't a team. This was a statement.