Advanced chapters on P@treon.com/Rentakun.
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I watched as the few remaining customers, forced out by the criminals, drifted back into the bustling streets of Y-City. I took a right turn, heading home. Y-City wasn't mentioned much in the Manga or Anime, but it was relatively prosperous compared to Z-City and had lower street crime. The roads were lively, but few dared obstruct a six-foot man with three scars over his left eye. Yes, the scars were a mark of my time with King, and no, they weren't from some easily avoidable battle. My Gamer's body didn't normally accumulate wounds, but this was an irritating side effect of my new ability—one of the less disturbing ones.
I lived on the sixteenth floor of a nondescript apartment block with cheap rent. I didn't spend much time there, preferring to train in instant dungeons or travel the continent. Over the years, I'd hunted many mysterious beings, but none posed a Demon-ranked threat. Nonetheless, I stayed vigilant. As I approached my apartment, I noticed a sliver of light between the door and the frame, signaling it wasn't properly locked. There was no damage to the frame, suggesting someone had picked the lock or entered uninvited.
I tapped the door with my foot, causing it to swing open into the kitchen. My tension eased when I saw a cupboard left open carelessly.
"Earl," I called out sharply, the kind of voice that commands immediate attention. A scuffling sound followed, and a freckled fourteen-year-old poked out from behind the corner.
"Uncle King!" Earl exclaimed, running to hug me. I returned the hug, feeling a pang of guilt for not being around more often. "I came over to play your games. You don't play them much anyway."
"I still play some story games," I admitted. It was annoying that my reflexes were too fast for many genres. I couldn't fathom how Saitama ever lost to King, given how superior my reflexes were.
"Do you want to play a few rounds with me, Uncle King?" Earl asked, withdrawing from the hug. "You've barely shown up at the family these past few years."
He was right. Long family gatherings were never my thing, and my focus on becoming stronger often left me feeling that any time not spent training was wasted.
"I've been busy with the restaurant," I said as I left my keys, phone, and wallet on a table near the TV. I changed into sweatpants, a t-shirt, and a hoodie. I slipped a cheap animal mask under my hoodie—it was best to avoid drawing attention from authorities when engaging in less-than-legal activities.
Earl was already settling into the living room, taking advantage of my absence to dive into my games. I gave him a half-wave as I stepped into the hallway and typed the address of the Genovese Insurance Company into my phone. The GPS estimated thirty-six minutes by car and even longer on foot, but I had no intention of taking either route. I leapt from the sixteenth floor to the roof of the opposite building, sprinting across the rooftops at my maximum speed. Within forty seconds, I reached the building where the extortionists were holed up.
The building was squat and unattractive, with a utilitarian design that was more functional than appealing. I donned the fox mask and jumped from the roof to a third-floor window, shattering the glass as I landed silently in the hallway.
The sound of breaking glass might have been audible, but it wasn't enough to elicit an immediate response. As I moved through the building, the unmistakable sound of boots approaching reached my ears. Two armed men rounded the corner, their assault rifles trained on me. They fired a stream of bullets, but I easily evaded their attacks, casually wiping the blood from my hand.
These thugs, relying on weapons, were likely only a threat to C-Class heroes at best. I barely broke a sweat dispatching them, quickly moving on. The act of murder is typically hard at first, with humans having natural and cultural inhibitions. But for me, Gamers Mind kicked in, making it easier to take lives without guilt if it led to a net positive outcome.
More footsteps echoed through the hallway. I turned a corner to face what looked like a SWAT team, ducked back as bullets flew, and then leapt to the wall. I bounced off, landing amidst the group and finishing them off swiftly. Scanning their stats, I was unimpressed; their abilities barely topped a hundred. I could handle a literal army of them with ease.
This battle felt like an ordinary person fighting an S-Class hero. Thankfully, I still had dungeons and the possibility of facing Saitama to look forward to, or I might have grown tired of fighting. I continued searching for the stairs to the CEO's office, finding it after fourteen seconds of silence.
As I climbed the stairs, I noticed a glint and leapt aside just as the wall behind me exploded in a blaze of heat and light. On the floor above were two clunky robots, resembling a mix between a pangolin and a scorpion, each nearly two meters tall with a solitary, glowing vermillion eye.
"Huh," I mused to myself, "I didn't expect to see robots here. I think I've walked into the wrong genre."