Divine Celebrity 81

“You uncultured swine, I’ll get you kicked this time,” Coach Spencer growled as he walked toward me. 

His explosive anger didn’t calm down the defensive players, but a gesture from me was enough to keep them in place, an obedience that would have been impossible to imagine just a week ago. 

But I turned my attention to Coach Spencer, removed my helmet, and closed in. “How can I help you, coach?” I asked, loud enough to be heard by anyone. Though, I didn’t need to Taunt to underline my ‘helpful’ question with a great dose of sarcasm. 

He raised his hand and started poking my chest aggressively. “I will kill you, boy, do you know what you did?” he asked. 

His closeness was useful. “Oh, if I were to guess, I had just injured the professional player you have brought to ruin my career, leaving you with the responsibility to explain that to your fiancee’s family so that they can clean your ass, while wondering how you managed to fuck up even the easy job they had given to you,” I said, using Taunt to the limit. 

The line about the professional players was a guess, but it was one I was confident of. They were older, and if they were college players, they would be good enough to be stars. 

However, professional players, especially third-string backups were a different issue. Still, while third-string backups were replaceable from a certain perspective, it didn’t mean their getting injured in a college training exercise wouldn’t turn into a  scandal. 

Especially since they didn’t reveal their identity. 

If his color, turning into a lively purple, was any indicator, it worked excellently. “Y-you —“ he shouted before his gasps of anger silenced him efficiently, giving me a second to enjoy his mood. 

Pity I didn’t have to luxury to enjoy it for long. I could already see some of the smarter offensive players dashing forward us, no doubt to calm the coach down as they realized the middle of a field was hardly the greatest location to handle such communication. 

“Me,” I said, letting my smirk widen as I watched him walk toward me. I wanted to walk back, but it would ruin my plan. Instead, I smirked bigger. “Do you think I can get your fiancee to dump you if I go and seduce her? Maybe the dean will finally get rid of a useless coach like you,” I said, once again using Taunt. 

I had no idea who was his fiancee, and technically, it was not a nice thing to say. But it was not something I would care about even ordinarily, and certainly not when I was dealing with some kind of magical shadow assassin.

To his credit, Coach Spencer managed to hold himself back despite trembling in anger, at least until I opened my mouth again. I made a gesture on my back toward the defensive team, asking them to stop even as I let my smirk widen. “I wonder if I can convince her to fuck me in the middle of the field to complete your humiliation.” 

It was childish, but Coach Spencer was also an irresponsible man-child trying to live his family's glory through his family connections. 

The full-body punch he threw at me didn’t come as a surprise. I flew back even as the punch connected while the spectators suddenly fell silent. 

I let myself fly back rather than resist, of course. After all, why bother resisting after putting all that effort to make it a spectacle right to everyone. A coach punching one of his players in the middle of a field was a beautiful scandal. 

I made a motion to stand up, only to stumble, faking a possible concussion. After all, what was better than a coach punching his player. 

A coach injured one of his players seriously. 

I sat on the floor, my eyes closed as I heard people rushing. A few offensive players arrived and grabbed the Coach, dragging him away, while the defensive players gathered around me. 

Most importantly, a very intense flow of intent hit me, far too intense for it to be just about the spectators watching. Megan was doing her job perfectly, I realized. 

After all, Sunset college was a football college, and regardless of the recent lack of success, it was the most important source of local pride for the surrounding towns; a fact that was only intensified after our most recent victory. 

Naturally, the coach punching the player that was responsible for that victory, in the middle of an overblown challenge, had amazing tabloid quality. 

Even more amazingly, neither college media staff, nor any public relations expert employed by Coach or his fiancee’s family would have time to react, as it came as a surprise, giving Megan several very precious minutes to manipulate the public perception. 

I sat on the turf, my eyes closed as I faked a concussion, stumbling even as two players grabbed my arms and helped me to move. 

I was more interested in the proof of Megan’s success. The great flow of intent I received, was even more intense than the reward I had achieved in the victory. “Are you okay?” Marcus asked, and I winked at him, which earned me a chuckle before he helped me to the stretcher, and the medical staff started examining me. 

“Open your eyes,” the doctor started before asking for a battery of questions and tests. Luckily, concussions, especially minor ones, were extremely hard to diagnose accurately. 

Meaning, faking one was simply trivial, resulting in their decision to put me in an ambulance and go to the hospital. I heard one of Coach Spencer’s bigger lackeys that how an ambulance might not look good for the college. 

The doctor resisted it adamantly. I wasn’t under any impression that it was about his great respect for me, but concussions in the field were a big issue. If he didn’t take the appropriate response and then it was revealed to be the case, it would be his fault. 

So, I was found in the ambulance, with two paramedics assisting me while I faked a slurry daze. Which was good, as it allowed me to focus on the flow of the intent, even more, channeling it to the system. 

Interestingly, while it was intense, it triggered only one trait. 

[Precision V, acquired]

At least at first, I realized. I didn’t do anything other than channeling some of the Intent to the system — my guide still taking the lion’s share — while faking concussion, no matter how tempting was to tease the female paramedic — who was a blonde, beautiful enough to be extremely desirable even in her boring outfit. 

Especially since she was the one to undress me, quickly removing my pads and putting me into a hospital gown, careful not to jostle me too much in the process. 

She was beautiful, but not as beautiful as ruining such a beautiful little ploy. I needed to be in the hospital so Megan could turn it into a proper scandal. 

At this point, I either got rid of Coach Spencer, or I would just simply change schools. There was no middle ground. 

We arrived at the hospital after twenty minutes of the ride, which had no interesting events, especially since I didn’t even have my phone with me. As we arrived at the hospital and they pushed my stretcher inside, I touched the system once more, though more of a habit than expecting anything to happen. 

Which was why I was surprised by the sudden flood. 

[Mechanic V, acquired]

[Repair V, acquired]

[Design V, acquired]

[Electronics V, acquired]

It surprised me a bit at first, as none of the events I had completed anything even slightly related to those, but finding the answer didn’t take long. 

People found out about the car repair video I had uploaded. “Nice, I didn’t think it would help me like that,” I murmured, which I didn’t bother suppressing. After all, it was very normal for an unlucky guy suffering a concussion to talk to himself. 

I said nothing else as the nurses took over to prepare me for the MR machine. If I had come as myself, I would have waited for hours, maybe even days, for my turn. But, if there was one thing about being a local celebrity, it was the priority service I would receive. 

Yet, as they slid me inside the noisy machine, I expected another calm half an hour. 

Which was ruined when I blinked, only to realize that, between two moves, I was not alone anymore. 

My guide woke up.