Chapter 81: Charlie's Plan: Lights Out
January 11
"This is your only shot, Charlie. Are you sure you want to go in alone?"
"Let me go with you."
Rob's voice crackled over the earpiece, filled with concern.
"No," Charlie replied, his voice steady. "If Steve sees you guys, he'll be on guard."
"I'll pretend I'm trading the gold for Stella. I need to get close to him."
"I'm wearing the explosives Left Ear prepped. Knowing Steve, once I'm close enough, he won't risk setting them off."
"It's the only play we have."
Handsome Rob's face darkened in the car. "Charlie, what if you can't control the situation? What if Steve calls your bluff?"
"Have you thought about that?"
Charlie was an international thief with decent combat skills, but he was no match for Steve in a straight fight.
Steve was ex-military and had spent years as a mercenary.
Forget skill—Rob doubted Charlie could match Steve's sheer ruthlessness.
"I know," Charlie answered calmly. "That's why Steve agreed to meet me. That's why the guards won't stop me."
"He'll expect a trap, but the most he'll suspect is a hidden gun."
"Steve is arrogant. He believes he can take me down easily. That arrogance is my opportunity."
"You're gambling, Charlie," Lyle chimed in nervously.
"Lyle's right," Left Ear added, making one last attempt to dissuade him. "If you lose this bet, you lose your life."
Charlie smiled faintly, looking at the brightly lit villa in the distance.
"I owe John a life. And now I've put Stella in danger."
"If trading my life can save hers..."
"Then it's a small price to pay."
Silence fell over the comms channel.
Finally, Rob broke it. "Left Ear and I will be ready to extract you. Don't lose that comms unit."
"Roger that."
Charlie ended the transmission. His hands gripping the steering wheel trembled slightly.
But the moment he thought of Stella trapped inside that villa because of him, his fear vanished, replaced by resolve.
He started the engine.
After driving in the dark for a stretch, he flicked on the headlights and headed straight for the main gate of Steve's villa.
"He's here."
Up in the tree, Hunter held his breath.
He gripped the Tactical Crossbow, finger hovering over the trigger, ready to fire.
"Halt!"
The security team at the gate noticed the approaching vehicle immediately.
One guard rested his hand on his holstered pistol and stepped forward, waving for the car to stop.
Charlie slowed down and rolled down the window.
"Tell Steve I'm here. And I brought what he asked for."
As the guards approached, Charlie rolled the window back up.
Inside the guard booth, another security officer drew his weapon and radioed the villa.
Inside the dining room, Steve—who had been waiting impatiently for over two hours—heard the notification. His eyes lit up.
His expression twisted into a savage grin.
"Charlie... you finally showed up."
He grabbed his radio, switched channels, and barked orders to his mercenaries.
"Target is here. Get ready."
He turned to Stella, who looked terrified and worried.
Giving her a cruel smile, he clapped his hands.
Two mercenaries armed with assault rifles walked in.
"Watch her. If anyone tries to break in and take her, kill them both."
Steve's hired guns were professionals.
They nodded without hesitation and took up defensive positions in the corners of the dining room.
Satisfied, Steve grabbed an AK-47 from the table and his radio, heading for the door.
From the main villa entrance to the gate was about thirty or forty meters.
Several modified, bulletproof SUVs were parked in the driveway.
Steve hopped into one, while several of his men piled into another.
The convoy rolled toward the main gate.
Through the scope of his crossbow, Hunter saw everything.
He smiled. The opportunity he had been waiting for was about to arrive.
The two armored SUVs stopped at the gate.
Steve got out, staying behind the cover of his vehicle. He looked at the modest Volkswagen sedan stopped outside the gate.
A sedan obviously couldn't hold two massive safes.
But Steve's eyes instinctively dropped to the car's tires.
Seeing the suspension compressed heavily—indicating a load of at least a ton—Steve smiled.
"Charlie, you continue to impress me."
Steve muttered to himself through the stainless steel bars of the gate.
He didn't step outside. As long as he stayed on his property, he could shoot Charlie claiming self-defense (or trespassing) with far fewer legal repercussions.
He lifted his radio. "Open the gate. Let him in."
"Yes, sir!"
The guards lowered their weapons and opened the heavy gates.
Charlie drove in slowly.
Steve stood by his SUV, keeping most of his body protected by the armored vehicle. If things went south, he had immediate cover.
Charlie stopped about seven or eight meters away, surrounded by Steve's men shouting orders.
"Get out of the car!"
Two of Steve's mercenaries approached with guns raised.
Charlie complied, opening the door and stepping out slowly.
As soon as he was out, the two men moved in to search him, while a third headed for the trunk to check the goods.
"Long time no see, Steve."
"You know I never carry a piece."
Charlie walked forward slowly, trying to close the distance between him and Steve.
But his intent was too obvious.
Steve realized something was off instantly. He stayed put.
"Search him thoroughly!" he shouted, sneering at Charlie.
"You used to be unarmed, sure. But three nights ago, Rob killed my dogs."
Clearly, Steve still believed the intruder from the other night was Handsome Rob—the only member of Charlie's team with the driving skills and combat prowess to pull off such an escape.
Charlie didn't know why Steve suspected Rob.
At that moment, Steve's men patted down Charlie's chest.
They froze. They felt something bulky under his jacket.
Their faces changed instantly. They reached in to rip it out.
Rip!
Charlie suddenly tore open his jacket and shouted.
"NOBODY MOVE! I'm wearing a bomb! The blast radius is fifteen meters—enough to turn everything here to ash!"
Steve looked and saw exactly what he feared: Charlie's torso was wrapped in explosives.
Steve's face went pale. He instinctively crouched behind the armored SUV.
His men jumped back in terror, retreating several steps.
Seeing his gambit work, Charlie shouted again.
"Steve! Left Ear rigged this. You know his work."
"Your gold is in the trunk. Every ounce of it."
"Release Stella."
"Let me take her, and we call it even!"
"Or I blow this charge. The police and the FBI will come running, and you'll be finished too!"
The smile vanished from Steve's face completely.
When he saw Charlie come alone, he had suspected a trick.
But he didn't expect Charlie to be this crazy—strapping a suicide vest to himself to force a trade.
Steve hesitated for only a second. He decided to agree first—get the gold, then kill them later.
But just as he opened his mouth to reply...
Thwip!
A faint whistling sound cut through the air.
The next second, a spark exploded in the distance, and then—
Darkness.
The power went out.
Chapter 82: Steve Took the Bait, Infiltrating the Villa
January 11
Thwip!
Seizing the moment, Hunter pulled the trigger, releasing the bolt he had aimed perfectly at the distribution panel inside Steve's villa grounds.
The bolt sliced through the air.
Not only did it strike the panel dead center, but the alloy-forged tip easily punched through the aluminum casing.
A second or two later, the lights in Steve's villa abruptly died.
"Bullseye!"
Hunter grinned, quickly stowing the Tactical Crossbow back into his Personal Inventory.
The next moment, he leaped from the tree.
Relying on his enhanced physique—now more than double that of an average human—he landed effortlessly from the three-meter height.
Then, he exploded into motion.
Sprinting with all his might, he raced down the slope.
Covering the hundred meters in just over ten seconds despite the rugged terrain, Hunter reached the villa's perimeter wall.
Looking at the three-meter wall topped with a high-voltage electric fence, Hunter didn't hesitate. He jumped, grabbing the top of the wall with ease.
Supporting his weight with one hand, he quickly pulled a pair of bolt cutters from his Inventory with the other.
It took him less than ten seconds to snip a gap in the de-energized fence.
Stowing the tool, he hauled himself up and vaulted over the wall, landing softly inside the villa grounds.
"Quick!"
"Get him!"
"Someone hit the breaker! Go start the backup generator!"
"Don't let him escape!"
"Careful! Watch your fire!"
As darkness swallowed the villa, chaos erupted instantly.
Having been under bright lights just moments before, Steve and his men were momentarily blinded. In the confusion, Steve instinctively raised his AK-47 and fired a burst at where Charlie had been standing.
A split second later, he remembered the bomb strapped to Charlie's chest.
But Steve's gunfire acted like a signal.
His men, panicked by the sudden darkness, instinctively opened fire toward Charlie's position too.
In the dark, trigger discipline vanished.
Steve almost caught a stray bullet himself and had to scream at them to stop.
It took over a minute for the chaotic firing to cease as everyone's eyes slowly adjusted to the low light.
"Charlie!"
The moment his vision cleared, Steve looked toward the car.
In the faint moonlight, he saw that the spot where Charlie had been standing was empty.
However, Steve noticed something else.
There were bloodstains on the ground where Charlie had been.
It seemed that in the moment the lights went out, someone's blind fire had hit Charlie.
Steve roared in anger, feeling like he had been played again.
He instinctively started to run toward the villa, knowing Stella was locked inside.
He knew Charlie was here to rescue her. But after taking only two or three steps, he stopped abruptly.
"You three! Get back to the villa! Now!"
He pointed at a few of his men and barked the order.
"Yes, sir!"
The men jumped into one of the armored SUVs and sped toward the house.
Steve, meanwhile, rushed to the car Charlie had driven in.
"Open it!"
He ordered a subordinate to open the driver's door. Empty.
"The trunk!"
Another man popped the trunk.
As the lid lifted, a golden glow reflected the moonlight, dazzling everyone nearby.
"Hiss!"
Steve took one look, and his breathing instantly became heavy.
So did the breathing of the men around him.
"Gold bars?"
Steve heard someone gasp.
His heart sank. Remembering the betrayal of his previous crew a year ago, his face darkened.
"I can't keep these men."
Steve was paranoid by nature. A year ago, a group of his henchmen had discovered he was hoarding a ton of gold and tried to force him to split it.
He had spent considerable effort cleaning up that mess.
Now, a new group of hirelings knew his secret.
In an instant, Steve decided their fate. They were all dead men walking.
But he knew now wasn't the time to act.
He slammed the trunk shut without inspecting the contents closely.
If he had, he would have noticed something.
Although the "gold bars" in the trunk were the right shape and bore the same "Dancer of Bali" stamp as his stolen hoard, their luster and weight were slightly off. They were fakes.
"You guys, check the perimeter. See if anyone else slipped in when the lights went out."
"Then rendezvous with us at the villa."
Steve hefted his AK, his eyes fierce.
His men, who had been working for him for a while, were startled by his intensity.
"Yes, sir!"
One of them responded quickly, suppressing his greed for the gold.
The others snapped out of it and followed suit.
They jumped into the other armored SUV and drove toward the main gate to sweep the area.
Watching them leave, Steve snorted coldly.
The "gold" was back. His mood improved significantly.
He walked to the driver's side of Charlie's car. The keys were still in the ignition.
Steve got in, started the engine, turned on the headlights, and drove toward the villa.
He had no idea that at this very moment, Hunter was moving like a panther through the darkness.
Hunter had already reached the villa. He pulled a heavy-duty window breaker from his Inventory.
With a powerful swing, he smashed it against a ground-floor window.
THUD!
CRASH!
With Hunter's strength—double that of a normal human—the hammer shattered the massive pane of tempered glass.
Hunter crossed his arms in front of his face and dove through the opening.
He stowed the hammer quickly, his right hand trembling slightly from the impact.
"Damn, that guy is paranoid. That tempered glass was at least 15mm thick. Even with my strength, I almost didn't break it in one hit."
Hunter was glad he had prepared thoroughly. During his last visit, seeing all the traps, he had suspected Steve would have reinforced glass.
So, he had specifically bought a heavy breaching tool.
And it had just paid off.
Chapter 83: Saving Stella
January 11
"Who's there?!"
"Movement over there!"
Voices echoed inside the villa.
Hunter, with his physical attributes now doubled and his senses sharpened to a razor's edge, heard the footsteps approaching instantly.
During his previous infiltration of Steve's villa, he had scouted the ground floor thoroughly.
In a split second, his brain processed the auditory information.
"Two sets of footsteps. Coming from the dining room!"
With a flicker of movement, a pistol appeared in Hunter's hand.
His eyes had already adjusted to the darkness. He quickly found a corner for cover, raising his weapon and aiming down the hallway.
The footsteps rushed forward, then slowed, then stopped.
Clearly, Steve's mercenaries were experienced. Even if they weren't ex-special forces, they had combat awareness.
Hunter knew his time was short. He tucked his body tighter into cover.
With his free hand, he pulled a rock from his Inventory and tossed it toward a spot down the hall.
Clatter!
The rock hit the floor, the sound echoing sharply in the silence.
"Over there!"
A shadow lunged out from cover, firing blindly toward the source of the noise.
Hunter's right hand, gripping the pistol, rose instinctively. He pulled the trigger.
Bang!
[Marksmanship Lv 4]. Within 100 meters, he rarely missed. Even with a pistol in near-total darkness at close range, it was more than enough.
"Argh!"
A scream pierced the air. The bullet struck the upper torso of the charging figure.
Worried that a single shot might not be enough to drop him, Hunter double-tapped.
Bang! Bang!
Two more rounds slammed into the target.
The figure crumpled to the floor instantly.
Rat-a-tat-tat!
The muzzle flash exposed Hunter's position. The second mercenary immediately raised his weapon and sprayed a burst of automatic fire at Hunter's corner.
It was an Uzi.
This submachine gun was compact, easy to carry, and boasted a high rate of fire. In close-quarters combat, it was devastating.
In the US, it was a staple weapon for gangs and criminal organizations. Huge numbers of illegal Uzis flooded the black market every year.
Hunter shrank back into cover, keeping his head down as bullets chipped the wall above him.
Silently, he counted in his head.
"1, 2, 3..."
Standard Uzi magazines held 20, 25, 32, or 40 rounds. Drum mags existed but were rare due to bulk.
As Hunter counted past thirty, the gunfire suddenly stopped.
Click.
Hunter realized instantly: 32-round mag. He's dry.
He surged out from his cover.
Down the hall, the mercenary had retreated halfway behind a corner and was fumbling to reload a fresh magazine.
Bang!
Hunter aimed for the head and fired.
The bullet found its mark. The figure jerked violently and collapsed.
Hunter moved forward quickly. He put a security round into the head of the first mercenary he had shot.
Then he walked over to the second body, picked up the Uzi, and patted the corpse down, finding three spare magazines.
Hunter reloaded the weapon as he walked, stowing the other two mags in his Inventory.
He was about to extract Stella, and a firefight was likely. Relying on just two pistols and a crossbow might not be enough. Having an automatic weapon was a good insurance policy.
Having killed two men in rapid succession, Hunter's heart was pounding violently.
He could feel the heat in his cheeks. His blood felt like it was boiling.
"I don't hate this!"
The rush of adrenaline was intoxicating.
In his past life, Hunter had been an ordinary, law-abiding citizen for decades. Sure, he had felt anger, jealousy, and dark impulses. But he had never crossed the line drawn by reality.
But now, in this parallel world?
This wasn't the country he knew. He had no family here. No ties.
Suddenly, the shackles of his past life dissolved.
"This... this is the life I wanted."
"Full of passion. And the unknown."
Hunter could already hear footsteps outside and the honking of approaching vehicles.
A walkie-talkie dropped by one of the dead mercenaries crackled with inquiries.
Time was running out.
He needed to move faster.
"Mmph!"
"Mmph!"
As he approached the kitchen, Hunter heard muffled struggling sounds coming from the darkness.
Accompanying the sound was a smell that hit his heightened olfactory senses like a physical blow.
It was a mix of urine, sweat, and stale perfume.
For Hunter, whose sense of smell was now superhuman, it was awful.
At that moment, Hunter regretted modifying his tactical mask. That afternoon, to ensure his hearing and smell weren't impeded, he had cut holes for his ears and nose.
Now, he was paying the price.
However, amidst the stench, he recognized the struggling noises as unmistakably female.
"Stella?"
Hunter whispered.
The struggling intensified immediately.
He had found her.
Hunter rushed into the kitchen. Guided by the faint moonlight filtering through the window, he saw a figure tied to a chair by the dining table.
"Found you."
Getting closer, he confirmed it was indeed Stella.
He reached out to untie the ropes but stopped when he heard heavy footsteps outside the front door.
Hunter's expression tightened. Ignoring the smell, he made a decision.
"I'm here to save you. Don't struggle. We don't have time."
"I'm getting you out of here now!"
Without waiting for a response, Hunter grabbed the chair—with Stella still tied to it—and lifted the whole thing up.
He bolted toward the broken window he had used to enter.
Thud!
The villa's front door had been locked electronically. When the power died, the mag-locks had disengaged (or possibly defaulted to locked, requiring manual breach).
As Hunter ran past the hallway leading to the front door with his human cargo, he heard someone slamming against the heavy wood from the outside.
A voice, thick with suppressed pain, called out.
"Stella!"
It sounded like Charlie.
Hunter paused for a fraction of a second. But the blare of approaching car horns snapped him back to reality.
Steve was back.
Clutching Stella and the chair, Hunter sprinted out of the villa through the broken window.
He turned and ran toward the cliff behind the house!
Chapter 84: Escape
January 11
When the lights in Steve's villa suddenly died and gunshots rang out, Handsome Rob and Left Ear, waiting outside in the car - and Lyle, monitoring from the base of the hill; were all startled.
"Charlie!"
Handsome Rob, who shared the deepest bond with Charlie after years of partnership, yelled into his comms immediately.
He desperately hoped for a response from his old friend.
But the line remained dead.
After nearly two minutes of silence, Rob's eyes were red with worry.
"Left Ear, do we still have explosives in the car?" he snapped at the passenger seat.
Left Ear looked grim but nodded. "Just a few improvised charges made from blasting caps."
He saw Rob pull a pistol from his waistband and his expression changed.
"Rob, are you crazy?"
Getting caught for theft meant a few years in prison. With a good lawyer, they could be out sooner.
If the heist failed, the worst the victim usually did was beat them up.
But if it involved murder? Or an armed assault? That was a different ballgame.
Especially with Steve.
Steve might kill people in Europe, but in the US, even he wouldn't dare commit murder in front of witnesses.
Sure, US law allowed homeowners to use lethal force against intruders to protect their life and property (Castle Doctrine). But the government always investigated afterwards.
Steve was living under a fake identity. He couldn't withstand a federal investigation.
Moreover, the gold was stolen property. He definitely didn't want the police digging around.
That was why Charlie's "suicide bomber" plan was viable—it forced a stalemate by threatening to blow everything wide open.
But if Rob charged in with a gun and started a firefight? That escalated everything to a point of no return.
Rob didn't care anymore.
His best friend wasn't responding. He had to save Charlie.
"I'm going in alone!"
Without waiting for Left Ear to argue, Rob grabbed the explosives from the back seat, raised his pistol, and sprinted toward the villa.
Left Ear shouted after him to no avail.
Gritting his teeth, Left Ear slammed his foot on the gas and drove the car toward the villa too.
Steve drove the car laden with "gold bars" back to the villa.
Before he even reached the house, he heard shouting.
The armored SUV that had rushed back earlier was parked by the front door.
Steve saw his men running toward the side of the villa.
He grabbed his radio. "Report! Have you found the intruder?"
"Main gate is clear!"
"Boss, someone took out the distribution panel with a crossbow bolt. There's more than one of them."
"Security company has been notified. They're sending a repair crew."
"Boss, we spotted an intruder! He's heading for the east garden!"
"Backup generator spinning up in ten seconds."
Hearing the reports, Steve prepared to get out of the car.
Suddenly, a thought struck him.
He instinctively turned the wheel, pointing the headlights toward the cliff at the rear of the property. He flicked on the high beams.
Steve's face twisted in rage.
In the stark beam of light, he saw a figure sprinting toward the cliff edge.
And the figure was carrying something in his arms.
Steve couldn't see clearly what it was, but remembering the screams from inside the villa earlier, his expression darkened.
He grabbed the radio and screamed, "Team Two! To the cliff! Now!"
Steve jumped out of the car. The gap leading to the backyard was too narrow for the vehicle.
To prevent blocking his men, he abandoned the car but left the engine running and the high beams on to illuminate the target.
He grabbed his AK, slammed the door, and sprinted toward the cliff.
Hunter, carrying Stella (still tied to the chair), dashed for the cliff edge.
With Stella as baggage, climbing over the three-meter wall was impossible.
Rappelling down the cliff was the safer, faster option.
"Mmph!"
"Mmph!"
Stella struggled constantly, trying to communicate something.
Hunter ignored her.
He wasn't in the mood to chat until they were safe. This woman was beautiful, yes, but right now she was just a heavy, smelly liability.
Relying on his double-human strength, Hunter reached the cliff edge in seconds.
Just then, two beams of light cut through the darkness.
High beams.
"Shit. Steve spotted us."
Hunter gritted his teeth and pushed his speed to the limit.
Two seconds later, he was at the edge.
He deliberately set Stella (still chair-bound) down on her side, facing away from him so she couldn't see his face or his Inventory.
He quickly pulled a rappelling rig and rope from his Personal Inventory and clipped it to his harness.
Just as he was about to tie the rope to the piton he had left days ago...
A sudden sense of danger screamed in his mind.
He instinctively rolled to the side!
Rat-a-tat-tat!
A burst of automatic fire tore up the ground where he had just been standing.
"AK!"
There was no cover on the cliff edge. Hunter scrambled, rolling frantically to avoid the hail of bullets.
Desperate, he pulled one of the hand grenades Dom had given him from his Inventory.
He pulled the pin and hurled it toward the muzzle flashes.
BOOM!
The explosion silenced the AK instantly.
Hunter didn't know if he hit the shooter, but he knew the rest of Steve's men would be swarming the area any second.
He leaped up, ignoring the dirt and grass on his clothes, and rushed back to the anchor point.
"Are you okay?"
He shouted at Stella while frantically tying the rope to the piton.
"Mmph!"
Hearing a response that wasn't a scream of pain, Hunter relaxed slightly.
He was about to grab her and jump.
But then, something clicked in his memory.
He stopped cold. He crouched down and inspected the piton.
A cold sneer crossed his face. He pulled a sledgehammer from his Inventory and smashed the piton hard, driving it deep into the rock.
Clang! Clang!
"You insidious bastard. Almost got me."
Steve and his men had found the pitons days ago. Instead of removing them, they had loosened them.
If Hunter hadn't noticed and had jumped with his full weight (plus Stella), the loosened piton would have ripped out of the rock.
He would have fallen to his death.
Hunter silently marveled at Steve's viciousness.
But now wasn't the time for admiration.
He put the hammer away and pulled out a knife. He slashed the ropes binding Stella to the chair.
Freed from the furniture, Stella immediately reached up to pull the gag from her mouth.
"Let's go!"
Hunter didn't give her a chance to speak. He clipped her harness to his, creating a tandem link.
He grabbed her tight, jumped off the cliff, and plunged into the darkness below.
Chapter 85: Safe
January 11
Held securely by Hunter's deceptively lean but incredibly powerful arms, Stella felt a force she couldn't possibly resist.
She hadn't eaten in two days and was extremely weak.
It had been years since she had been this physically close to a man. The last man she had been truly close with was her father, the legendary safecracker John Bridger.
The man holding her now definitely wasn't Charlie. His voice was different.
He was also taller than Charlie.
Stella hadn't spent much time with Charlie's crew, but she remembered their general builds and heights.
She ran through the list in her mind and quickly concluded:
"Not Charlie. Not one of his guys."
"This guy is about the same height as Steve."
Through his clothes, she could feel the distinct, rock-hard muscles rippling as he moved.
Stella wasn't sure if her racing heart and flushed cheeks were due to her weakened state, the adrenaline of jumping off a cliff, or simply being held so intimately by this stranger.
But her heart was pounding violently.
"Who are you?"
Stella finally asked as they descended.
Held tight against him, she watched as he expertly rebounded off the cliff face, controlling their descent.
Seeing the ground approaching—just a few meters away now—her heart, which had been stuck in her throat, finally began to settle.
Hunter didn't answer. He knew it wasn't time to pop the champagne yet.
Celebrations were for after they were safe.
Boom!
Shouting erupted from the top of the cliff, followed by beams of light sweeping down.
Ignoring the fact that they were still two or three meters off the ground, Hunter unclipped the carabiner connecting them to the rope.
He leaped, landing heavily on the dirt below.
"Ah!"
The sudden drop made Stella cry out.
Hunter, though still repulsed by the smell clinging to her, instinctively shielded her with his body, absorbing the impact so she wouldn't be hurt.
"Careful!"
The moment they hit the ground, Hunter grabbed Stella and sprinted for the cover of a large tree.
Rat-a-tat-tat!
Gunfire erupted from above. A hail of bullets tore through the foliage around them, shredding bark and leaves.
Hunter waited until the firing died down.
Then, he grabbed Stella's hand again. "Not safe yet. Sorry about this."
Before she could react, Hunter's arm swept around her waist.
A sudden sense of weightlessness made her gasp again.
She didn't even have time to protest before she was scooped up once more.
Then, like Superman, he exploded into motion.
Moving with unimaginable speed, he carried her through the dark forest, putting distance between them and the cliff.
Thump-thump-thump!
Stella instinctively wrapped her arms around him. The action pressed her closer, letting her feel the steady, powerful rhythm of his heartbeat.
"Incredible stamina..."
"His physical fitness is off the charts."
Stella was still dazed, unsure how long they had been running.
Finally, she felt her feet touch the ground again.
"Wait here," the man's voice whispered in her ear.
She reached out and leaned her weak body against a tree for support.
Moments later, the roar of an engine approached.
Stella tensed, straightening up.
A motorcycle pulled up beside her.
"Get on!"
It was her savior's voice.
She owed her escape entirely to this man. Although she didn't know who he was, he clearly meant her no harm.
Without hesitation, Stella climbed onto the back seat.
He handed her a helmet.
"Put this on."
"Okay."
Stella took it and quickly strapped it on.
She wrapped her arms around his waist. Immediately, her earlier guess was confirmed.
Through his thin jacket, she could feel the definition of his abs—eight blocks of solid muscle. His lats and back muscles felt carved from stone.
In that moment, an intense curiosity seized her.
She desperately wanted to see the face hidden beneath the tactical mask and now the helmet. Who was this physically perfect man who had saved her life?
"Hold on tight!"
Hunter warned just before the bike surged forward with terrifying acceleration.
Stella was nearly thrown off. She tightened her grip around his waist instantly.
They rode without headlights.
Relying on his enhanced night vision, Hunter navigated the dark mountain trail at breakneck speed.
Soon, they hit the asphalt of the main road.
Only then did Hunter switch on the headlight. Instead of slowing down, he accelerated.
Pushing the bike to over 150 km/h, they tore down the highway for a stretch.
Once he was sure no one was following, Hunter slowed down and turned onto a smaller side road.
After riding for another thirty kilometers or so, he pulled into the parking lot of a secluded motel.
"We're here."
Hunter parked the bike but kept his helmet on.
He turned to Stella, who was still clinging to him, and explained quietly.
"After your escape, Steve will be watching your apartment and your office."
"We'll stay at this motel tonight."
"Tomorrow, I'll take you somewhere safe."
Stella didn't argue. "Okay."
Since being kidnapped yesterday morning, she hadn't eaten a bite. Steve had only given her water.
And the man was a psycho.
She had spent most of the last two days tied to a bed or a chair, forced to watch him eat.
She hadn't even been allowed to use a bathroom properly.
Hunter didn't need to tell her—she knew how bad she smelled.
She desperately needed a safe place.
A hot shower, some food, and a bed. That was all she wanted in the world right now.
Chapter 86: The Lie
January 11
The moment Hunter took off his helmet, Stella froze.
The man standing before her was unexpectedly young.
No.
"Boy" might be a more accurate description.
Asians tended to look younger than Westerners of the same age.
His body was muscular and defined, but his face and skin still held a hint of youthful smoothness.
When she was clinging to him on the bike, Stella had assumed her savior was a rugged, seasoned man.
Now, seeing his face clearly, she realized he still had a touch of adolescence about him.
"Is he even twenty yet?"
She thought with a mix of shock and disbelief.
"Let's go inside. I'll explain everything later," Hunter said, noticing her amazed stare but ignoring it.
Stella had just been rescued from a living hell. Although she was full of questions, she didn't argue.
"Okay."
They walked into the motel office. Hunter booked a single room at the counter.
"Why only one room?" Stella whispered, leaning close to him.
Hunter explained quietly. "Motels like this usually have gang ties."
"A young, beautiful woman staying alone in a place like this?"
"You don't want to wake up with a few strangers in your room, do you?"
"Or get snatched right out of the frying pan and sold on the black market?"
Stella opened her mouth to argue but closed it again.
She was well-educated. Her father was an international thief, and his illicit earnings had afforded her a privileged life.
For over twenty years, Stella had enjoyed the best education money could buy. She even owned her own locksmith company in downtown Los Angeles, a venture funded by John Bridger's "earnings."
Because of this, her feelings about her father's profession were complicated.
On one hand, she benefited from his crimes.
On the other, her education and moral compass told her that theft was wrong.
However, running a locksmith business that often cooperated with the LAPD had exposed her to the darker side of society. She knew the underbelly of Los Angeles wasn't just a story—it was real.
Seeing her fall silent, Hunter ignored the motel owner's lewd smirk and led Stella to their room.
The room wasn't large—maybe thirty or forty square meters.
As soon as Hunter locked the deadbolt, Stella couldn't hold back anymore.
"Who are you? How did you know Steve kidnapped me? Why did you save me?"
Hunter sat down on the small sofa in the living area and gestured for her to sit opposite him.
Stella sat, suppressing the discomfort of her filthy clothes and the smell clinging to her. She desperately wanted to shower and change, but the mystery of this Asian boy was making her anxious.
He had saved her, yes. But he was too mysterious.
She knew nothing about him, yet he seemed to know everything about her.
That imbalance was terrifying.
Seeing her seated, Hunter smiled and began to answer her questions.
"Let me introduce myself, Miss Stella Bridger."
"I'm Hunter Sun. Chinese-American. And I'm a thief."
"A thief?"
Stella looked at him in surprise, scrutinizing his face. She had never considered that this boy could be a criminal.
Hunter's smile widened.
Long before he stole the gold, he had been preparing a cover story.
When he learned Stella was missing and deduced Steve had taken her, he had spent the waiting hours refining his narrative.
He was ready for this conversation.
"Yes," he nodded with a smile. "Just like your father, John Bridger. I steal for a living."
"Though I lack his legendary lockpicking skills and his fame."
Stella frowned slightly. The wound of her father's death—caused by Charlie dragging him out of retirement—was still fresh.
Hunter realized he had touched a sore spot. He immediately shifted his tone to one of apology.
"I'm actually ashamed to say this, but your ordeal... it's partly my fault."
Stella was distracted from her grief. She looked at him in confusion. "What do you mean?"
She wasn't just a pretty face. A thought flashed through her mind.
She looked at Hunter sharply. "The gold? You're the one who stole Steve's gold?"
"Smart," Hunter said, nodding frankly. He admitted it without hesitation.
"Steve has been selling gold bars stamped with the 'Dancer of Bali' on the black market for a long time."
"I wasn't the only one watching him."
"A while back, I noticed you and your friends—Charlie's crew—were also targeting him."
"I beat you to the punch. I stole the gold."
"But I never expected Steve to track you down and kidnap you because of it."
"When I heard you were taken, I felt responsible."
"You suffered because of my actions. So, I decided to go back into the lion's den and get you out."
Stella's throat worked, but she couldn't find the words.
She hadn't expected the situation to be this complex.
Charlie had told her he found Steve through contacts in the gold market. That was why he invited her to join the revenge mission.
But it turned out they weren't the only sharks circling Steve.
And this... kid... had outsmarted everyone.
He had completely blindsided Charlie, the so-called master thief.
He had stolen the gold under everyone's noses.
And when she was captured, he had broken back in to save her.
Hunter's mix of truth and lies painted a very specific picture for Stella, who didn't know the full story.
It led her to a flawed conclusion:
"Charlie kept telling me his team was the best in the world."
"Turns out, they're not even close."
"If it wasn't for Charlie's incompetence, John wouldn't have died in Venice."
"And now, because of him, I almost died too."
In that moment, Stella's already shaky trust in Charlie crumbled further. The resentment she harbored for him dragging her father to his death flared up again, hotter than ever.
Chapter 87: Mission Accomplished
January 11
Due to her limited information, Stella didn't doubt Hunter's story.
She was certain she didn't know this young Asian man. Based on that fact alone, his explanation felt credible.
If not for guilt over getting her involved, why else would a stranger risk his life to break back into Steve's villa and save her?
"Well... thank you."
Stella, ever the well-educated lady, expressed her gratitude politely despite her disheveled state.
Hunter had been observing her closely. He saw the tension leave her shoulders and the wariness fade from her eyes.
Seeing this, he knew it was time to make his move.
He smiled and shook his head. "A beauty like you, Miss Bridger, possesses a charm no man can refuse."
"Getting you involved in this mess was my responsibility to begin with."
"Besides... I actually had another motive for saving you."
Stella smiled faintly. She was pleased by the compliment, and his honesty didn't bother her.
"What motive?" she asked.
Hunter knew this was the moment of truth. Whether he could power-level his Lockpicking skill to become a world-class master depended on his next performance.
Smiling, he held out both hands.
He waved them in front of her face, then slowly moved them apart.
Suddenly, with a flick of his wrists, two items appeared in his empty palms.
A standard padlock in one hand. A metal pick in the other.
"Magic?"
Stella was surprised. She hadn't seen any sleight of hand or hidden sleeves.
But she wasn't overly shocked.
As a top-tier expert, Stella's social circle was wide. She was close friends with Henley Reeves, a famous magician known for her escape acts.
Compared to Henley's illusions, conjuring a lock and pick was basic stuff.
So, while she didn't catch how Hunter did it, she wasn't blown away.
A strange expression flickered across Hunter's face.
When Stella said the word "Magic," the Proficiency System suddenly pinged him.
[New Skill Triggered: Magic]
This was a skill with a high ceiling. Even though he had gotten good at controlling his emotions lately, Hunter was momentarily stunned.
He quickly masked it with a chuckle and nodded, playing along.
"Miss Bridger, watch this."
Hunter inserted the pick into the keyway.
He closed his eyes, felt the pins, and manipulated the tool. A few seconds later—
Click.
The shackle popped open.
Stella frowned slightly. She wasn't sure what point he was trying to make.
She glanced at the lock and lost interest.
A standard hardware store padlock? She could open that in ten seconds when she was six years old. Now? She wouldn't even need two seconds.
Hunter noticed her underwhelming reaction and continued with his prepared script.
"A long time ago, I discovered I had a knack for learning."
"Anything I'm interested in, I can master quickly."
"Since becoming a thief, I've tried to use that ability to become better at my craft."
"I'm willing to learn from anyone with real skill."
"Miss Bridger, I've been watching you for a long time."
"Like your father, John Bridger, you are a master in the field of lockpicking."
"Taking the risk to go back into Steve's villa to save you... wasn't just about guilt."
"It was also because I wanted to earn your favor."
"I want you to teach me. I want to learn your techniques."
Hunter finished his pitch and sat back, maintaining a polite smile as he waited for her response.
Stella felt a sudden sense of clarity.
"So that's it!"
"He needs something from me."
Stella's talent was inherited from her father. John Bridger had spent a lifetime studying every locking mechanism on earth, from ancient Chinese puzzles to modern biometric vaults.
Stella had learned at his knee. By the time she was eighteen, John had admitted she knew everything he did.
The only thing she lacked was experience.
But after opening her own firm and working with the LAPD and banks for years, she had gained that experience. She had cracked top-tier safes under pressure.
Calling her one of the world's best was not an exaggeration.
So, the idea that Hunter risked his life to save her just to become her student?
That was a motive she could understand. And accept.
"You're certainly honest," she said calmly. She didn't agree immediately.
But Hunter was thrilled.
He knew that not refusing immediately meant she was considering it.
After all, these were trade secrets her father had spent a lifetime accumulating. She couldn't just give them away to a stranger.
"There's no point in hiding it," Hunter said with a smile.
"Please consider it, Miss Bridger."
"Of course, if you refuse, I won't hold it against you."
"By the way, you must be starving."
"And your clothes... they got pretty dirty during the escape."
"Wait here. I'll go buy some food and see if I can find you a change of clothes."
With that, Hunter stood up and walked out.
Left alone in the motel room, Stella's stomach grumbled loudly.
She looked down at her filthy clothes, her face flushing slightly.
She watched the door close behind him, a look of appreciation in her eyes.
"He's a decent guy."
"Maybe... teaching him a few things wouldn't be so bad. Dad probably wouldn't blame me."
Chapter 88: Getting What He Wanted
January 11
This was probably the most comfortable sleep Stella had ever had.
She didn't know how long she had slept.
All she remembered was being rescued last night by a young Asian man who called himself a thief.
He had taken her to a motel and rented a room.
They had talked a lot. He had been refreshingly open about his identity and why he had saved her.
And he was incredibly gentle. He had noticed her distress and awkwardness without her having to say a word.
He bought her a simple but delicious dinner. He even bought her fresh clothes to change into.
Although they shared a room, nothing happened.
Stella slept in the bed. He voluntarily took the small sofa in the living area and slept there all night.
When she finally woke up, she saw that he was already awake.
He was sitting in the living area, engrossed in a book about locking mechanisms.
"You're awake."
Sensing her gaze, Hunter looked up from his book.
"Mhm."
Stella fought the urge to stretch lazily. She wasn't going to fall head over heels for a boy she just met.
But she had developed a favorable impression of him, so she kept her composure.
"I picked up breakfast. Do you want to freshen up first, or eat?"
Stella was surprised. She followed his finger and looked at the table by the TV.
Sure enough, a breakfast box was waiting there.
"Thank you."
She hadn't expected this young thief to be so thoughtful.
She thanked him and sat up. Instinctively, she reached for her phone on the nightstand to check the time.
Her hand grasped air.
Only then did she remember. Her phone had been confiscated by Steve's men when she was kidnapped.
"Oh no. Steve demanded the gold from Charlie yesterday."
"I need to contact them. If they walk into a trap..."
As the fog of sleep lifted, Stella remembered the critical details she had ignored in the chaos of the escape.
But she froze, frowning.
Without her phone, she realized she couldn't remember Charlie's number.
"What's wrong?"
Seeing her freeze on the bed, Hunter walked over to ask.
Stella hesitated, then answered.
"Steve doesn't know you stole his gold."
"He thinks Charlie did it. That's why he kidnapped me. He gave Charlie twenty-four hours to bring the gold to exchange for me."
"Last night... I think Charlie was at the villa trying to save me too."
Hunter nodded, feigning indifference. "Charlie Croker? The famous international thief?"
"And the gold... that's the haul from the Venice job a year ago?"
"Yes."
Stella nodded. There was no point hiding it from this boy who already knew so much.
Hunter smiled and waved his hand dismissively. "Miss Bridger, you don't need to worry."
"From what I hear, Charlie Croker leads the world's elite thief crew."
"Every member is a top-tier specialist."
"Even if I hadn't intervened, they probably would have saved you easily."
Stella was about to nod in agreement, but then she remembered something.
Charlie and his "elite" team had spent nearly a month scouting Steve's villa.
And yet, before they could even make a move, the gold was stolen by the boy standing in front of her.
Her gaze landed on Hunter's youthful face.
In an instant, her confidence in Charlie wavered even more.
"Are they... really that good?"
Thinking back, she remembered how Charlie had dragged her father out of retirement, leading to his death.
She still held a grudge against him for that.
When Charlie reappeared and invited her to steal the gold back as revenge, she hadn't refused. But her motivation was purely to avenge her father.
She hadn't fully forgiven Charlie for John's death.
Because of that resentment, she had kept him at arm's length. She had his number in her phone, but she hadn't let him into her life.
So now, even though she was worried, she realized she had no way to contact them.
And going back to the villa to check?
Don't be ridiculous.
Steve was probably hunting her right now. Showing up anywhere near him would be suicide.
Realizing this, Stella nodded helplessly.
She decided to call her office later to see if Charlie had left a message there. Otherwise, she was cut off.
She got out of bed and went to the bathroom.
When she came out, she checked the breakfast. It was a small Black Pepper Beef Pizza from Pizza Hut.
Surprisingly, it was still warm.
"Aren't you having any?"
Stella rarely ate fast food pizza. But after being starved for two days, it looked like a gourmet meal.
"I already ate."
Stella nodded and started eating.
"Are you serious about learning from me?"
She asked between bites, sitting not far from him.
Clearly, after sleeping on it, she had made a decision.
Hunter's smile widened brilliantly.
"Absolutely."
"Call me Hunter. And please, call me Stella. No more 'Miss Bridger'."
Stella hesitated, then asked, "Hunter, why did you become a thief?"
"You know John Bridger was my father. You should know... thieves don't have happy endings."
Hunter paused. He hadn't expected Stella, whom he had known for less than twenty-four hours, to offer him life advice.
Clearly, saving her life had earned her friendship.
"She's a good woman."
Hunter thought for a moment, then replied. "My parents died early. I have no family. I have to feed myself somehow."
It was a realistic answer.
Hunter didn't lie, though he omitted the context of his transmigration.
Stella fell silent, sensing the weight of his words.
"I'm sorry."
"Don't worry about it."
In the comfortable silence, Stella finished the pizza.
She looked at Hunter, who had quietly returned to his book.
After a moment of hesitation, she spoke again.
"I'm worried Steve might be watching my office, so we can't go there yet."
"But if you want to learn lockpicking... come with me."
"I know a place. It has all the tools I need to teach you."
"Deal."
Chapter 89: Secluded Training at the Farm
January 11
Los Angeles.
Over a hundred kilometers from the city center, in a remote little farm.
Following Stella's directions, Hunter drove the motorcycle all the way here.
"Stop!"
Seeing Hunter stop the bike, Stella jumped off the back seat.
Before them stood a dilapidated farm.
The sign hung crookedly, looking like it would fall at any moment. The wooden fences and wire mesh were rotting and rusted.
Hunter knew California agriculture was big business, and farms like this dotted the landscape.
In fact, right after stealing the safes from Steve, Hunter's first thought had been to sell the gold and buy a farm.
He couldn't help it. The farming gene was practically stamped into his DNA as a Chinese soul. Even after transmigrating into a Chinese-American body, the urge remained.
Of course, he had dismissed the idea quickly.
In the US, the IRS was a unique and terrifying entity.
America was a nation where money ruled. Generally, the government didn't care where you got the cash to buy luxury goods or property.
But the IRS kept tax records on almost every adult citizen.
It was said they maintained separate files for anyone who suddenly came into wealth, marking them for special observation.
As long as you had the ability to pay their high consumption taxes and property taxes, the IRS might turn a blind eye to some minor tax evasion.
But the moment you couldn't sustain that spending, or when the government needed revenue?
They would pounce like starving wolves, confiscating every asset in your name and tearing you apart until not even bones remained.
Among all US government agencies, the IRS was undoubtedly the most dangerous.
Like the FBI or CIA, it had its own agents, its own courts, and even armed enforcement units.
So, even as a transmigrator, Hunter didn't want to provoke that behemoth before he had a solid foundation.
He definitely didn't want to end up on their radar now and invite trouble for his future.
Stella walked silently to the crooked sign of the dilapidated farm, touching the weathered wood with a look of deep sorrow.
Hunter noticed it but said nothing.
The gate was padlocked. Stella walked up to it and looked back at Hunter.
He understood immediately. Nodding, he produced a metal pick from his Inventory like a magic trick.
He fiddled with the lock for about ten seconds.
Click.
The lock opened. They entered the rundown property.
The farm wasn't big—maybe 15 to 20 acres (100-200 mu).
In the US, this was considered a small, hobbyist farm. When Hunter had researched buying one, he found that the average US farm was hundreds of acres.
So this place was tiny.
In one corner stood a few structures: a wooden house, a garage, and two decent-sized barns.
Stella seemed to know this place by heart. She walked ahead of Hunter, her long legs carrying her straight toward one of the barns.
Hunter followed, his gaze occasionally sweeping the surroundings but mostly lingering on Stella.
They reached the larger barn. Stella turned to look at him again.
Hunter nodded, stepped forward, and worked on the barn's padlock. Moments later, it was open.
Stella slid the door open and walked into the darkness.
The barn was huge—hundreds of square meters.
Walking in while covering his nose against the dust, Hunter noticed it was mostly empty, save for some old farming equipment.
Except for one corner.
"Follow me."
Stella didn't mind the dust at all. Entering the space seemed to awaken childhood memories.
She looked around the barn affectionately for a moment before signaling Hunter to follow her to the corner.
Hunter nodded and trailed behind her.
They reached the corner, where four wooden tables had been pushed together.
The tables were covered in dust-laden tools. Shelves against the wall were packed with various locks and small safes.
Nearby, a pile of objects was covered by a tarp. through the holes in the fabric, Hunter could see the outlines of larger safes.
"This was my father's farm," Stella said, picking up a tool from the dusty table. Her face was full of nostalgia.
After a moment of silence, she spoke as if talking to herself.
"He used to bring me here to teach me lockpicking."
"He said once he retired, he wanted to live out his days here."
"Grow some corn, raise some cows, keep a few horses... and never leave me again."
Hunter could hear the sadness in her voice.
It made sense. Her father, the only family she had, was suddenly gone.
It was impossible for Stella not to hate Steve—and Charlie too.
It was amazing she could hold it together at all.
Hunter thought for a moment, then spoke up. "I've heard about the feud between your father and Steve."
"Stella, in return for you teaching me your skills..."
"I will find an opportunity to kill Steve and avenge your father."
His words successfully pulled Stella out of her grief.
She looked up at him in surprise. Hunter met her gaze with a serious expression.
"A life for a life. A debt for a debt."
"There's a saying from an Eastern country that's been passed down for thousands of years."
"You're teaching me your craft. That makes you half a teacher to me."
"I am willing to take revenge for you."
This time, there was no calculation or manipulation.
Hunter was genuinely moved by Stella's grief for her father. He made the decision impulsively.
"Thank you. But no."
Stella looked at his serious face and felt touched.
But she shook her head, clearly not wanting to discuss it further.
"Hunter, I called my office on the way here. told them I wouldn't be coming in for a while."
"Consider it a vacation. For the next few days, we'll stay here at the farm."
"I'll use this time to teach you everything I know about locks."
"Deal!"
Hunter nodded earnestly. He knew his [Lockpicking] skill was finally about to skyrocket.
Chapter 90: Lockpicking Lv 5
January 11
Nine days passed in a flash.
From surprise to shock, then to suspicion, and finally to silence.
That was Stella's journey over the last nine days.
Watching Hunter open a safe that ranked in the top twenty of consumer security products in just forty seconds...
Stella didn't know what words could describe her current feelings.
Even with years of training and intimate knowledge of that specific safe's structure, it would still take her a minute and a half to crack it.
And that was with professional tools.
Yet, this Asian boy standing in front of her? Nine days ago, he could barely open a standard padlock with a pick set.
Now, relying purely on touch and intuition, he had opened this high-end safe in less than half the time it took her.
And he was the student she had taught over the last few days.
Stella had witnessed it with her own eyes. Under her guidance, he went from clumsy to competent, then to proficient.
And finally, he surpassed her speed entirely.
For a moment, Stella deeply doubted the words her father, the legendary safecracker John Bridger, had once told her.
"Stella, you may hate my life as a thief."
"But my skills are the result of a lifetime of study."
"You have talent far surpassing mine. If you don't study hard and surpass me in this field, you're wasting the gift God gave you."
"As long as you apply yourself, you will become the world's greatest safecracker."
"Dad..."
Stella whispered in her heart. "I think I just met someone with even more talent than me."
She couldn't help but recall what Hunter had said the night he saved her ten days ago.
"A long time ago, I discovered I had a knack for learning."
"Anything I'm interested in, I can master quickly."
"Since becoming a thief, I've tried to use that ability to become better at my craft."
"I'm willing to learn from anyone with real skill."
"Miss Bridger... I want you to teach me."
Replaying those words in her mind, Stella was speechless.
"That's not just a 'knack for learning'!"
"That learning ability is godlike!"
Hunter put down his tools. The excitement in his heart was beyond words.
For the past nine days, he had practically lived at the Bridger farm.
Even when he went out to buy supplies every few days, he was never gone for more than three hours.
During this time, Hunter slept only the bare minimum—four hours a night.
The rest of the time, he was either learning techniques from Stella or practicing on his own, digesting the massive influx of systematic knowledge provided by the skill upgrades.
Thanks to this intense dedication, Hunter had achieved the impossible in nine days.
He had leveled his [Lockpicking] skill from Lv 2 all the way to Lv 5.
This skill, one of the first two he acquired upon transmigrating, had finally beaten his [Driving] skill to the Lv 5 milestone.
Lv 5 was incredible.
The moment the skill hit Lv 5, a flood of information rushed into his brain.
It was so overwhelming that he had to spend an entire day just processing it, and he still wasn't done digesting everything.
This information covered every technique and piece of knowledge related to lockpicking.
Like previous upgrades, but on a massive scale, Lv 5 granted him detailed data on countless locking mechanisms humanity had invented.
Structures, materials, weaknesses, bypass methods... everything.
In other words, any lock that existed in the world today...
Even those guarding the world's top banks, vaults, and secure facilities...
To Hunter, they held no secrets.
Given enough time, he could open them all.
The only variable was his proficiency and hands-on experience, which would determine the speed.
And now, he was absolutely confident.
He could open the two Worthington 1000 safes he stole from Steve ten days ago. He could do it damage-free, and in under five minutes.
Looking at Stella—who was staring at him with a mix of shock, disbelief, confusion, and perhaps a tinge of jealousy—Hunter smiled inwardly.
He knew his cheat-like learning speed, fueled by the Proficiency System, had stunned her.
Hunter was now certain: aside from raw experience where Stella still held an edge...
With his physical attributes (double a normal human's dexterity and sensitivity) and the vast knowledge base of [Lockpicking Lv 5], he was superior.
If they raced to open a simple lock, Hunter would be faster.
Only with complex, multi-stage bank vaults would Stella's experience give her a slight efficiency edge.
But give him a little time to gain that experience, and he was confident he would surpass her completely.
And that wouldn't take long.
Moreover, Lv 5 wasn't necessarily his limit.
Stella, limited by human physiology and learning capacity, was likely at her peak.
Hunter had no such ceiling.
Thinking of this, his mood soared.
"Lv 5 might represent the absolute limit for elite humans."
"But I don't have limits."
"Befriending Stella was the right move."
"If I had tried to grind Lockpicking to Lv 5 on my own, who knows how long it would have taken."