004, daily life

To others, this seemed like a one-sided conflict.

Zaire, standing at 1.75 meters tall and with a lean build, looked significantly smaller than the burly Eugene. Eugene, a former school bully, had years of street-fighting experience, far surpassing that of a typical high school student.

The blonde man tried to stop Eugene, fearing he would hurt Zaire and cause even more trouble. "Stop it, Eu... Eugene!"

But Eugene, like a raging bull, ignored his friend's plea.

He had only one thought in mind: to make the student in front of him cry in pain. He wanted to see fear, enjoy the power of his fists, and instill terror.

However, Zaire remained calm and unafraid, even in the face of Eugene's bloodshot eyes. 

Fear was just another part of the Catachan morning routine.

"Cry, kid!"

Eugene suddenly raised his arm, aiming a heavy punch at Zaire's face. But Zaire's hand had already slipped past Eugene's line of sight. His hard knuckles struck Eugene's ribs.

Catachan Combat Technique, First Strike!

"Ugh!"

Eugene's menacing grin froze instantly. He opened his mouth wide, a scream of pain building in his chest, ready to burst out.

But Zaire showed no mercy, giving Eugene no chance to cry out.

Catachan Combat Technique, Second Strike!

The delivery box fell as Zaire's other hand moved like a scythe, striking the side of Eugene's neck. In just two moves, Eugene's eyes rolled back, and he collapsed like a ragdoll.

Thud!

The wooden floor echoed with the fall, and the blonde man was left gaping in shock. Everything happened too fast! The tables had turned in an instant, shattering the blonde man's limited imagination. The seemingly ordinary high school student had swiftly taken down the battle-hardened Eugene!

Even against adult attackers, Eugene's size would usually let him hold his ground for a long time. 

Fear washed over the blonde man as he stared at Zaire, his voice trembling. "Please, don't hurt me! You can take my phone and wallet!"

"Sixty dollars, please."

Zaire sighed, trying to remain patient.

"Money! I'll get it right away!"

The blonde man, snapping out of his stupor, frantically searched his pockets for cash. After a few moments, he produced sixty dollars, his hands shaking as he handed it over.

"Thank you."

Zaire took the money, forcing a smile. He hesitated before saying, "Eugene's not dead, but he'll need a few days to recover."

"Ah?" The blonde man blinked in surprise, then bowed deeply. "Th-thank you!"

Zaire shrugged, picked up the fallen delivery box, and headed for the elevator. He had plenty of work waiting for him back at the restaurant.

"Phew—"

As the elevator descended, Zaire let out a small sigh of relief, his eyes still gleaming with excitement. His first real fight, and he had won so easily!

Of course, if he had used the Catachan Fang earlier, his first strike would have pierced Eugene's heart. But their minor conflict didn't warrant such brutality.

Zaire stepped out of the apartment building, the breeze cooling his heated thoughts. He considered the aftermath of the fight. Self-defense against a known troublemaker would likely be seen as justified, even by the police. Eugene, underage and drunk, causing trouble while using drugs, would face far worse consequences.

Confident, Zaire smiled slightly, his movements more fluid as he pedaled his bike back to the restaurant. Ten minutes later, he arrived and quickly resumed his work preparing ingredients.

As the evening wore on, more and more customers filled the restaurant, perhaps drawn by the approaching weekend. People rewarded themselves with a hearty dinner after a long week, making Zaire and his aunt busier but also happier.

By six o'clock, the "Delicious" restaurant was bustling. Different people of all origin, chatting, eating, laughing, and cursing, blended with the neon glow of city at night, showcasing the vibrant pulse of life.

Stealing a moment to breathe, Zaire wiped his sweat and took in the lively atmosphere. He appreciated this organized chaos, where food brought together people of all professions and backgrounds, erasing societal divisions, leaving only the joy of good food and new friendships.

"Zaire! Orders up!"

His aunt's voice pulled him from his reverie. He quickly got back to work.

"Table 38, General Tso's Chicken, for one!"

The busy scene continued until nine in the evening. After the last customer left, Zaire and his aunt finally sat down to eat. After finishing his meal, Zaire, under his aunt's direction, packed up leftover food in takeout boxes to share with the homeless waiting outside the restaurant. This was a tradition his aunt had upheld for years, ensuring no one went hungry if the "Delicious" restaurant was open.

After closing up, Zaire biked his aunt home. By ten, Zaire, freshly showered, lay on his bed, lost in thought. The sound of the calculator resetting in the living room echoed softly—his aunt was still tallying the day's earnings.

Unable to sleep, Zaire opened his Warhammer Simulator.

[Cooldown Time: Seventeen Hours]

[Please provide resources to reduce the cooldown time (currently no resources available).]

Frowning, Zaire grabbed his phone and held it up to the simulator.

[Current resources do not match. Please provide resources to reduce the cooldown time.]

Determined, Zaire tried a series of random items—tissue paper, a keychain, and even his bedsheet. But the simulator refused them all.

"What kind of resources do you need? At least give me a hint!"

Frustrated, Zaire fell into deep thought. Then, an idea struck him. With a serious expression, he bit his finger, squeezed out a few drops of blood, and offered it to the simulator.

[Current resources do not match. Please provide resources to reduce the cooldown time.]

"Forget it, I'll just sleep!"

Muttering curses, Zaire turned over, sucking his finger, and closed his eyes.