Valerie entered the lecture hall, already irritated by the prospect of enduring Professor Thomson’s droning monologue. She picked a seat in the middle row, hoping to stay inconspicuous. Her white sundress fluttered slightly as she adjusted herself in the chair, her annoyance simmering just beneath the surface.
Professor Thomson, as expected, launched into another one of his grandiose speeches. His voice carried the weight of someone who believed their words would one day be etched into history.
“Heroes,” he began, pacing dramatically at the front of the room, “are not arbiters of life and death. To kill is to fall to the same depths as the villains we oppose. Justice is not vengeance; it is a measured, collective judgment. A hero does not wield power to destroy but to inspire. Take, for instance, The Fifth Sentinel, who subdued the infamous Shadow Craze without bloodshed, though the latter had razed cities. The Fifth Sentinel understood this truth: mercy strengthens society; cruelty fractures it. Heroes must not kill, no matter the evil before them. It is the government’s role, not ours, to determine the final punishment.”
The classroom buzzed with murmurs of agreement, heads nodding in unison, as if they had been pre-programmed to accept this ideology. Valerie sat back, arms crossed, her jaw tightening. 'What a nonsense, the same lecture again?' she thought.
Valerie’s gaze sharpened as she activated her new skill, the Eyes of Gods. A faint glow sparked in her irises as she focused on Professor Thomson.
—
Target’s feelings: Prideful and Joyful
Judgement: 90% Evil Tendencies
Punishment: Lethal
Execution: Optional
Reward: 1000 exp
—
Her breath caught. 'Ninety percent?'She leaned forward slightly, narrowing her eyes. Here stood a man preaching virtue and restraint, yet harboring a heart darker than night. A snake, cloaked in academic robes, basking in the adoration of his students.
Valerie’s mind churned as she wrestled with the implications of the system’s “Evil Tendencies.” What did the percentage really mean? Was it a measure of how likely someone was to act on their evil thoughts, or was it a tally of how many traits made up their corruption? Could someone with 90% Evil Tendencies truly be redeemed, or were they already too far gone?
Unable to shake her curiosity, she decided to test the waters. Raising her hand with deliberate calm, she waited for Professor Thomson’s attention.
“Yes, Miss Nordin?”
Her voice was steady, but her words carried a pointed edge. “Professor, let’s say I find myself in a position where I have to make a choice: a villain has civilians held hostage. I’ve tried negotiation—it fails. I know the only way to save them is to eliminate the villain. Do I uphold the principles of heroism and let those people die, or do I take action and ensure they live, even if it means breaking the rule?”
A murmur rippled through the classroom. Some students glanced at each other nervously, others leaned in, eager to hear the professor’s response. Thomson’s face darkened slightly, but he maintained his composed demeanor.
“That’s a complex scenario, Miss Nordin,” he began, stepping forward with his hands clasped behind his back. “It is not simply a matter of choosing life or death. When we take a life, even for what we perceive as good, we set a dangerous precedent—not only for ourselves but for society as a whole. The laws, the principles, the very structure we operate under exists to guide us. To stray from those principles risks destabilizing the trust people place in heroes. Killing should always be the absolute last resort, weighed against the long-term consequences for the greater good.”
Valerie raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “So, no sympathy for those unfortunate people? Their lives are just collateral damage to preserve a principle?”
Thomson’s tone turned stern, his gaze locking with hers. “It’s not that simple, Miss Nordin. A hero’s duty extends beyond the immediate moment. If we normalize killing, even under the guise of necessity, it corrupts the very idea of heroism. You may save those civilians, but in doing so, you erode the moral foundation of what makes us heroes. Worse still, you open the door to justifying future killings, and before long, you may find yourself unable to distinguish hero from villain. Killing is seductive in its simplicity, but it leads to ruin.”
Valerie leaned back in her chair, her lips curling into a half-smile. “My morality isn’t that fragile, Professor,” she said, her voice calm but sharp. “I don’t believe that taking one life to save many suddenly makes me incapable of distinguishing right from wrong. A true hero should be strong enough to make the hard choices while staying true to their principles. If killing a villain to save lives is enough to turn someone into a villain themselves, then perhaps they were never fit to be a hero in the first place.”
Gasps filled the room. A few students whispered furiously, clearly scandalized. Professor Thomson’s jaw tightened, but he kept his composure.
“That,” he said, his tone heavy with finality, “is exactly why the system exists. To ensure that no single individual assumes they alone can define justice. Heroes are not judges, juries, or executioners. They are symbols—symbols of restraint, discipline, and hope. Without those values, we are nothing more than vigilantes.”
Valerie said nothing, her gaze steady and unyielding. But inside, her mind was alight. 'Symbols of hope? What hope is there in allowing corruption to fester because no one is willing to do what needs to be done?'
Her eyes flicked to the glowing words hovering above Thomson’s head again. '90% Evil Tendencies. A symbol of hope, indeed.'
For now, she let the conversation drop. There was no point in arguing with a man so entrenched in his ideology.
As the class droned on, Valerie’s focus remained on the glowing words hovering above Professor Thomson’s head. 90% Evil Tendencies. It had to be more than a mere probability of acting on evil thoughts. Maybe it was an assessment of his traits—a culmination of flaws stacked one atop the other, each adding to the total.
She recalled their earlier interaction. Thomson lacked empathy, that much was clear, as he dismissed the victims of the Alvilla incident with cold detachment. He belittled people and basked in the superiority of his intellect. Narcissist, she thought, her lips curling in disdain.
By the end of the day, Valerie’s mind was buzzing. She decided to head into the city, craving distraction and maybe even a hint of human connection. Her friend’s absence had left her feeling a gnawing loneliness she couldn’t quite shake.
The city was alive, a symphony of sounds and lights that made Valerie momentarily forget the weight of her thoughts. Neon signs flickered above bustling shops, their bright hues painting the streets in pinks, blues, and yellows. The hum of life surrounded her—conversations in passing, laughter from outdoor cafés, and the distant beat of street performers’ drums.
She passed by a small plaza where a group of college students was taking selfies near a fountain. The fountain itself was a masterpiece—a towering sculpture of a hero mid-flight, water cascading dramatically from his outstretched hands.
“Man, they really idolize heroes here,” Valerie said under her breath, a small smirk tugging at her lips. “It’s like an Acropolis for cape crusaders.”
A child ran past her, a bright red balloon bobbing in his hand. His laughter echoed as he weaved through the crowd, his parents trailing behind with amused smiles. Valerie felt a strange warmth at the sight, a fleeting reminder of simpler times before her world had been flipped upside down.
She turned a corner and found herself on a street lined with food trucks and pop-up vendors. The smell of roasted chestnuts and sizzling meat wafted through the air, making her stomach growl. A cheerful man at a kebab stand waved her over, his apron covered in sauce.
“Best kebabs in the city! Only five credits!” he called out.
Valerie hesitated, then shrugged and approached. “Why not?” she said, handing him a crumpled bill.
As she bit into the kebab, the savory flavors burst across her tongue, and she couldn’t help but let out a satisfied hum. “Damn, that’s good.”
“See? Told ya!” the man said with a proud grin.
She continued walking, the kebab in one hand, her other brushing against the smooth railing of a bridge that overlooked the city’s central park. Below her, strings of fairy lights illuminated winding pathways and clusters of people enjoying the cool evening air.
Valerie let herself drift with the crowd, her heels clicking against the smooth pavement. Massive digital billboards displayed everything from superhero endorsements to movie trailers, their vibrant animations casting moving shadows across the streets.
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
As she wandered the bustling streets, the glowing interface drew her eyes, floating above the heads of passersby.
Evil Tendencies: 5%... 10%... 8%... 3%...
Most people fell below 10%, their judgments reading as mundane and harmless. But every so often, someone would stand out—a dark figure with a higher percentage flashing above them.
70%… 75%…
Her mind itched at the temptation. 'I could level up so easily right now,' she thought, her gaze narrowing on a man whose judgment glowed in bright red. 'But the laws are not gonna be on my side in this case.'
“This is more complicated than I anticipated,” she muttered under her breath, her hands stuffed in her jacket pockets. “Still… all that exp…”
Her train of thought stopped abruptly as she passed a sleek glass building. The polished surface reflected her image back at her. Her stride slowed, her brow furrowing. Then she saw it.
Floating above her own head.
Judgment: 100% Evil Tendencies
Punishment: None
Execution: None
Her blood ran cold.
“What in the actual fuck is this?” she whispered, her voice trembling as her jaw dropped.
'100%? How is that even possible?'
She took a step closer to the glass, as if proximity would change the words. But the glowing numbers remained fixed above her head, unrelenting and damning.
'Do I have evil traits?' she thought, her mind racing. 'I mean, I don’t think so… I don’t hurt people—well, unless they deserve it—but that’s not evil. Right? Do I act on impulse? Maybe sometimes… but not maliciously. That doesn’t make me 100% evil!'
She clenched her fists, her breathing uneven. “This has to be a glitch. It has to be. The system’s wrong.”
But as she stared at the reflection, an uncomfortable thought slithered into her mind. 'What if it isn’t?'
“What if…” she began to say aloud, then stopped herself. She shook her head violently, trying to dispel the creeping dread.
“No,” she said firmly, her voice echoing faintly against the glass. “This is wrong. I’m not evil. I know who I am.”
But doubt, sharp and unyielding, gnawed at the edges of her confidence. What if the system saw something in her that she couldn’t—or wouldn’t—see in herself? What if her actions, her choices, had already placed her beyond redemption?
For the first time since the system had activated, Valerie felt truly afraid. Not of the glowing judgments over others’ heads, but of the one above her own.
As Valerie’s thoughts spiraled into chaos, luckily, she was jolted back to reality by the unmistakable thrum of helicopter blades cutting through the air. She looked up to see several media choppers heading north, their urgency mirrored by the sudden shift in the city’s monitors.
The screens, once static or playing mundane ads, now displayed a breaking news alert: “Emergency Evacuation: Villain Activity Detected in the Northern District.” The broadcaster’s voice was grim, warning citizens to head to the nearest bunkers immediately.
Around her, the street erupted into chaos. People ran in every direction, their faces pale with panic. Heroes emerged from alleyways and rooftops, clad in their colorful uniforms, guiding the crowds toward safety with practiced efficiency.
Valerie, however, had no intention of seeking refuge. Her curiosity compelled her in another direction. As the crowd surged one way, she moved against it, her eyes locked on the helicopters overhead.
She slipped off her heels, tossing them into her bag, and broke into a run. Her stride was powerful, each step eating up the distance.
“Hey, you!” a hero shouted, spotting her. “Get to the bunkers!”
But as she passed him, her speed made him falter. His eyes widened, and he muttered, “Maybe she’s a hero…” before turning back to the panicking crowd.
The streets began to change as she moved further north. The gleaming skyscrapers of the city center gave way to dilapidated buildings and narrow alleys. Trash was strewn across the cracked sidewalks, and the stench of decay hung heavy in the air. Broken bottles, discarded furniture, and graffiti-covered walls painted a grim picture of the city’s forgotten outskirts.
Finally, she reached the scene. A battle was underway, the crackle of energy blasts and the clang of metal echoing in the distance. Two heroes were locked in combat with a lone villain. The villain, a man in a plain T-shirt and jeans, looked wildly out of place compared to the armored and polished heroes.
Valerie approached cautiously, staying in the shadows. She could hear snippets of a nearby news crew’s live report.
“The suspect, identified as Robert Lane, reportedly killed two people during a botched robbery attempt earlier today,” the reporter said, her voice sharp and urgent. “Authorities classify him as a mid-level threat, but his actions have already claimed innocent lives.”
Valerie’s gaze shifted to the villain. He was clearly losing. His movements were sluggish, his strikes easily deflected by the heroes. They weren’t going all out—holding back, as usual—but their combined assault was overwhelming him.
Then her system flared to life, and the judgment appeared above the Villain’s head:
---
Evil Tendencies: 5%
Punishment: None
Execution: Forbidden
---
“What the hell?” she muttered, her brow furrowing. 'Five percent? He’s a killer! How does he only have 5%?'
She studied his face. Sweat poured down his cheeks, mixing with tears. His eyes were wide with fear, darting around as if searching for an escape.
'He’s terrified,' Valerie thought. 'He’s not even wearing a suit. No gadgets, no armor, nothing. Just… ordinary clothes.'
Her mind raced, piecing together the puzzle. “So it’s not about actions,” she murmured. “It’s about traits. He doesn’t have the heart of a killer. Maybe it was self-defense. Or desperation. Something that forced his hand.”
Her suspicions were confirmed as she watched the fight unfold. The villain’s attacks were uncoordinated, more like flailing than calculated strikes. The heroes, on the other hand, were relentless. They knocked him to the ground, their blows landing with sickening force.
“I’m sorry!” the man screamed, his voice breaking. “I didn’t mean to! Please, stop!”
Tears streamed down his face as he curled into a ball, shielding himself as best he could.
Valerie’s heart tightened at the sight. Or rather, it should have.
She felt a flicker of sympathy—a faint glow, like a dying ember in the dark—but it didn’t burn as it should. Her chest felt hollow, empty.
“Why do I feel nothing?” she whispered, clutching her chest as if to summon the missing emotion. “I should feel bad for him. He’s begging. He’s terrified. What happened to me?”
Her system was silent, offering no answers. The faint sympathy she felt warred with the cold logic creeping into her thoughts.
'He’s a killer. The system says he doesn’t deserve punishment. But if they keep beating him like this, he’s going to die anyway.'
For the first time, Valerie found herself questioning not just the system, but herself. Was she truly capable of empathy anymore? Or was it the system that made her unable to?
—
The faint glow of sympathy, fragile and fleeting, still managed to sway Valerie’s actions. Without hesitation, she dashed forward, her speed catching the heroes off guard as she seized both their arms mid-swing, halting their relentless attack.
“Enough!” she shouted, her voice cutting through the chaos. “You’ve won! Stop this senseless beating!”
The two heroes stared at her, dumbfounded. One of them, a tall man with an energy baton crackling in his hand, scowled.
“Stand aside, citizen,” he barked, attempting to pull his arm free. But Valerie’s grip was unyielding, her strength far surpassing his.
“You don’t understand what you’re dealing with,” the second hero, a woman with a shimmering forcefield encasing her, added. “This man is dangerous!”
Valerie’s gaze burned with intensity. “Dangerous? He’s crying on the ground, begging for mercy. Does that look dangerous to you?”
The heroes faltered under her glare. She released their arms, and they stepped back, wary but silent. Valerie turned her attention to the villain, who was trembling, tears streaking his dirt-covered face.
She crouched down, her tone softening just enough to sound human. “You’re okay. No more beating. But you need to tell me—why did you kill those people?”
The villain sobbed harder, clutching his sides as if trying to hold himself together. “I… I didn’t mean to,” he choked out. “I didn’t even know I had powers. I was just trying to push them aside, and I—” His voice broke. “I pushed too hard. The wall… it collapsed. I didn’t mean to!”
Valerie’s jaw tightened. The system’s judgment of 5% began to make sense. “Then why rob the store?”
“I didn’t have a choice,” he whimpered, shaking his head. “I needed credits. For… for them. The loan sharks. They said they’d kill—.”
Valerie exhaled, the pieces clicking into place. “Okay, okay. I get it. Your wife, your son, or someone you care about—your hands were tied.”
The man nodded frantically, his desperation evident.
“But still, that doesn’t give you the right to commit crime. Remember that, okay?”
The man nodded again.
Valerie straightened, addressing the heroes again. “You two, that’s enough. No more beating. Just arrest him. He’s not a threat anymore.”
The female hero hesitated, her forcefield flickering. “We still need to—”
“Just arrest him,” Valerie snapped, her voice brooking no argument. “Or do you want to keep beating a crying man in front of the cameras?”
The heroes exchanged uneasy glances, then reluctantly nodded. “Fine,” the male hero muttered, deactivating his baton.
Valerie stepped back, watching as they restrained the villain. She turned to leave, her mind racing with the implications of everything she’d just witnessed.
Valerie paced back and forth, the dim light from the moon casting shadows on the alley walls. Her mind raced, replaying everything she’d learned about the system. The weight of its implications pressed heavily on her.
“The system doesn’t care about actions,” she murmured to herself, staring at the floating interface. “It only sees traits.”
She clenched her fists, trying to make sense of it all. Someone with a low percentage of Evil Tendencies could commit the worst crimes imaginable, and yet the system would deem them unpunishable. No matter what human laws dictated, the system’s judgment would override it.
“But someone with a high percentage…” she whispered, her voice trailing off. “They don’t even have to lift a finger. The system would punish them just for existing that way.”
Her breath hitched as the realization fully hit her. The system wasn’t concerned with what a person did. It was about who they were. Their traits, their tendencies—the things they might not even be able to control.
“This is insane,” she muttered, gripping the edge of her desk for support. “How does this even work with human law? Someone with a high percentage has to commit a crime to be punished by people, but the system would already have passed judgment by then.”
The contradictions made her head spin. The system’s logic clashed with the laws of humanity, creating a murky gray area she couldn’t reconcile.
A spark of thought flared in her mind, unbidden but impossible to ignore. If the system rewarded actions that aligned with its judgment, didn’t that mean…?
Her heart raced as the idea took shape. She stood frozen, staring at the numbers hovering in front of her.
“It would be easier,” she said aloud, her voice hollow, “to level up… if I were a villain.”
The thought both terrified and intrigued her. Villains didn’t have to wrestle with the contradictions of the system. Their actions matched its expectations, making growth inevitable.
But at what cost?
As she was processing things, the familiar interface flashed in her vision.
—
Dungeon Detected.
Distance: 100m
Judgment: 100% Evil
Punishment: Lethal
Execution: Immediate
Objectives:
- Eliminate all targets: 0/180
Rewards:
- 5000 EXP
- Common Sword
—
Her eyes widened. “A dungeon? What a coincidence.” she muttered, her pace quickening toward the marker. “It must be the Loan shark’s den, huh?. And rewards too? Not just EXP but an item? Cool, cool.”
The dingy alley gave way to an even darker side of the slums as she approached the source of the alert. Her heart thumped—not from fear, but from the thrill of something new, something promising.
“Alright,” she whispered, cracking her knuckles as her lips curled into a smirk.