Two days later, in the evening.
William was cooped up in his ridiculously cheap apartment, where three and a half of the four walls enthusiastically displayed the mottled marks of time.
He was attempting to compose a dinner symphony titled "The Urban Worker's Poor Symphony" with a sausage and a packet of instant noodles.
One hand tightly gripping a plastic fork, the other weakly swiping at an old phone.
The screen showed an unknown food blogger making "home-cooked meals" with arm-thick Australian lobsters and face-basin-sized king crabs, making William roll his eyes.
Just as he took a deep breath, preparing to treat the shriveled sausage as a supreme delicacy, bringing it to his mouth for a sacred chewing ritual to conclude its brief "sausage life," he suddenly heard an exhilarating sound.
"Ding dong! Your client, Slingshot Kid, has submitted a claim for the 'Precise Marksman Equipment Protection Plan (Trial Version)'!"
"Here it comes! It's finally here! My fourth 'lucky Angel'... no, my esteemed client, has finally decided to let his precious treasure have a minor accident!"
He rubbed his hands, his eyes gleaming with a hungry, wolf-like green light, and eagerly clicked on the application.
"Client Nickname: Slingshot Kid"
"Insurance Product: 'Precise Marksman Equipment Protection Plan (Trial Version)'"
"Loss Description: Client Slingshot Kid, while performing a 'Community Friendly Visit' (actually tracking down a habitual graffiti artist who was repeatedly jumping in and out of a public restroom) last night,
his core equipment, the 'Obsidian Power Compound Slingshot Mark II (self-proclaimed as the Universe's strongest modified version)', specifically its 'special shock-absorbing carbon fiber grip (reportedly scraps peeled off an F1 racing car)',
suddenly suffered an unexplained structural collapse, leading to three consecutive 'precision-guided (client's unilateral belief)' projectiles catastrophically missing their targets."
"Accident Consequence 1: One of the projectiles, at a tricky angle, precisely hit the sensitive tail area (a chrysanthemum in ruins, wounds all over the ground) of an innocent passing stray cat, Mr. Lucky Orange,
triggering a five-minute, high-decibel angry roar from Mr. Lucky Orange, with a penetrating power comparable to a soprano.
This successfully attracted enthusiastic responses from all canids and felids two streets away, and the scene became chaotic for a time.
It nearly exposed the client's whereabouts and led to the client being chased by several wild dogs for eight blocks."
"Accident Consequence 2: The target graffiti artist escaped during the chaos and left a mocking graffiti on the wall: 'If you suck, practice more, stop missing, little kid!' This caused 999 points of mental critical damage to the client."
"Claimed Items: Grip repair fund or replacement parts of the same level (preferably higher)."
Attached Photo: [Click to view]
William watched the loss description, his mouth twitching uncontrollably, and his shoulders beginning to shake.
"What the hell is a 'Community Friendly Visit'! What the hell is Mr. Lucky Orange's chrysanthemum in ruins! This kid is a talent, he even dares to trample on a cat's dignity! And 'if you suck, practice more,' this graffiti artist is also a trash-talking king, killing with words!"
He strongly suppressed the urge to burst out laughing, his inner monologue having already played out an entire "Queens Street Cat Revenge Story: The Tears of the Slingshot Hero."
"System Prompt: Detected client Slingshot Kid's claim application. After preliminary assessment, the loss situation is largely true (though the process was absurd), meeting the claim terms of the 'Precise Marksman Equipment Protection Plan (Trial Version)'. Approve the claim?"
Approve!
Must approve!
Such a talented client must be well-maintained!
"Claim processing…"
"Claim successful! One tube of 'High-Strength Nano Repair Gel' has been issued to client Slingshot Kid (guaranteed to stick more firmly than before, the next break will definitely not be here), and a coupon for 'Queens Old Blacksmith Shop (Weapon Modification Certified, fair dealing, no charge if not fixed)' has been recommended."
Almost simultaneously, a faint but incredibly clear and strange sensation, like a revelation, flooded William's brain.
It wasn't an electric current, nor a sting, but more like an invisible geometry teacher frantically drawing auxiliary lines with chalk in his head, leaving behind a bunch of lines that were profound but incomprehensible.
"Congratulations! Claim successful, you have randomly obtained a power fragment from client Slingshot Kid:"
"Ability Name: Trajectory Prediction (Basic)"
"Ability Effect: Can predict its approximate landing point 0.2 seconds in advance."
"Note 1: Largely ineffective against curved motion, variable speed motion, or projectiles with autonomous evasion awareness."
"Note 2: Prediction accuracy is affected by the degree of mental concentration. Don't get distracted, if you do, you might predict it into Old Wang's dog bowl next door!"
"Note 3: Young man, I see you have an extraordinary physique and green eyes, why not try using this ability to set up a ring toss stall at the night market? Getting rich overnight is not a dream (just kidding)!"
William: "…"
Trajectory Prediction?
0.2 seconds in advance?
This sounds… even more useless than the instant noodles in my bowl!
What the hell can I predict?
Can I predict whether the trash I throw will make it into the bin?
He looked around, his gaze finally falling on the pen on the table.
He weighed it, concentrated.
Imagining himself as an Olympic javelin champion, he suddenly threw the pen towards the broken trash can in the corner of the opposite wall!
The moment it left his hand, a very blurry, drunkenly drawn dashed line, concerning the trajectory of the sausage and its estimated landing point, seemed to flash in his mind.
"Splat!"
The pen accurately and undoubtedly hit the outer wall of the trash can, then weakly bounced to the ground and rolled into some unknown dark corner under the bed.
William's face instantly turned as black as a pot bottom.
What about the promised prediction?
What's the difference between this and throwing it with my eyes closed?
Is my concentration not enough?
He didn't believe it, picked up an empty, crumpled instant noodle seasoning packet, and tried again.
This thing is light enough, and the trajectory should be simple enough!
This time, he was even more focused, his eyes wide like searchlights, muttering: "Concentrate, concentrate, I want to see the future!"
"Whoosh—"
The seasoning packet drew a graceful… oh no, a crooked, wobbly parabola in the air, as if drunk.
The dashed line in William's mind seemed a tiny bit clearer than before, but only a tiny bit, like looking at the moon with 800-degree myopia without glasses.
"Thud."
The seasoning packet successfully landed on the floor next to the trash can, probably a hundred thousand miles from the target.
"I #%&*%￥!"
William covered his face, letting out a desperate wail, "This 0.2-second prediction, isn't it just for predicting that I will fail 100% of the time!
System, come out, are you targeting me, a poor working man?
What the hell is this ring toss in Note 3!
Who are you looking down on!"
William paced restlessly in the room, like a Beast trapped in a cage, pondering the use of this new ability.
Will I be able to catch bullets with my bare hands in the future?
Dream on, are bullets straight lines?
They're death arcs! And at that speed, 0.2 seconds is too late!
What good is this ability!
The more he thought about it, the angrier he got, and the more he felt the system was toying with him.
Is this the fate of a non-chief?
What exactly is this skill for?
Far away in a secret base converted from an Underground Room in Queens.
Slingshot Kid, who had just repaired his precious slingshot with the strangely scented gel, looked at the small metal tube on the windowsill and an ancient-looking coupon, as if from a century ago, and scratched his head in surprise.
"Oh! This insurance… it really has something, huh? Nano gel? Sounds awesome! And this Old Blacksmith Shop, could it be run by a legendary reclusive master?"