Fantasy

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    His name is Raven Lustre. And the universe fucked him from day one.
    Imagine this: You get isekai'd to a fantasy world. Finally, right? Your moment. Dragon slayers, demon kings, the whole power fantasy package. Except when everyone else rolled Dragon, Archangel, Titan—bloodlines so pure they could split mountains on day one—you got Incubus.
    60% purity. The discount bin special.
    Not the “seduce and conquer” kind you read about in those masterpiece web novels. The “your pheromones are weaker than cologne” kind. The “you can't charm anyone stronger than you” kind. Which in a world where everyone else is a walking apocalypse? Means you can't charm anyone who matters.
    So while Gareth—the muscle-brained Titan hero—was bench-pressing boulders, and Astasia—the Holy Archangel with a body that belonged in a cathedral and a face she hid behind a helmet—was literally glowing with divine power, Raven was in the back. The strategist. The brain. The guy they kept around because someone had to think.
    And they hated him for it.
    Astasia called him trash. Disgusting. Bastard. Freak.
    Every curse word a noblewoman could learn, she threw at him like stones. He thought she despised him. Thought she saw him as the weakest link dragging down the hero party.
    Turns out? 89% favorability. She was a fucking tsundere.
    And he never knew. Never saw it. Because he was too busy surviving, too busy stealing quick fucks with noblewomen in hallways just to recharge his trash-tier powers, too busy being treated like a prostitute with a brain instead of a hero.
    Then there was Nyra. The cat-woman. Gareth's slave. The one Raven fucked in secret because that idiot was too busy drawing pictures of Astasia like a lovesick puppy. 96% favorability. The one who actually loved him. The one he promised to free.
    And he failed.
    An Incubus got who died at Hand of Succubus during their first Session.
    The End.