Today, I really met two heavyweight "clients."
One was impervious to reason, and the other was unfathomable.
His gaze drifted involuntarily towards the corner of the warehouse wall where the monster had been knocked down.
Every frame of Moon Knight's battle earlier was deeply etched in his mind.
That gray-skinned monster, though beaten without any ability to fight back, possessed astonishing brute strength and resilience.
A thought, like bamboo shoots after a spring rain, uncontrollably sprouted.
That guy… should also be considered a 'special ability user,' right?
William's eyes narrowed slightly.
Although he looked a bit unsightly and his behavior was a bit crude, what if?
What if it also had some brains, and was afraid of death?
He licked his somewhat dry lips.
He didn't want to miss any possible opportunity.
"Just a quick look, it's no big deal."
William found an excuse for himself, picked up his precious briefcase, and walked in the direction where the monster had fallen.
His footsteps were very light; the surroundings were deathly quiet, with only the faint sound of his leather shoes treading on gravel.
The air was filled with a faint smell of blood and dust, and an indescribable stench.
The closer he got, the more obvious the stench became.
William frowned and covered his mouth and nose with a handkerchief.
He walked around a pile of overturned oil drums and finally saw the monster clearly.
Its huge body lay limp in the corner, its head twisted at a grotesque angle, and a clear indentation on its chest, evidently Moon Knight's masterpiece.
Its gray skin was covered with cracks and dark liquid, having already lost the luster of life.
Its hollow eyes were wide open, seemingly still retaining the terror of its last moments.
Dead.
Completely dead.
William's unrealistic fantasy instantly shattered.
He stood a few steps away, examining the corpse, and instead felt a sense of relief.
"No wonder the system didn't give any prompts."
He muttered to himself.
It seems the system wouldn't waste traffic on targets that had already kicked the bucket.
Right, dead people can't buy insurance.
William shook his head and chuckled self-deprecatingly.
He turned to leave this troubled place.
Under the night sky, Harlem still flickered with lights, yet also harbored unknown undercurrents.
He quickened his pace, only wanting to return to his small, dilapidated apartment as soon as possible and get a good night's sleep.
The pressure of performance made him feel more exhausted than when he was a salesman in his previous life.
After passing through a narrow, dark alley, the relatively bustling street was not far ahead.
Just as he was about to exit the alley, two Shadows suddenly darted out from both sides, blocking his path.
"Hey, kid, so late, where are you rushing off to?"
A hoarse voice spoke, filled with strong malice.
William's heart tightened, and his footsteps instinctively stopped.
Robbers?
He looked up to see two punks in hoodies, with malicious smiles on their faces, and something metallic glinting coldly in their hands in the dim light.
One was tall and thin, the other slightly shorter and sturdier, both with fierce looks in their eyes.
"Gentlemen, what can I do for you?"
William forced himself to remain calm, clutching the briefcase in his hand.
His mind raced, assessing the current situation.
If he fought, his small frame would definitely be no match.
Cut his losses?
But the few crumpled U.S. dollars in his pocket weren't even enough to fill the gaps between these two's teeth.
"Less talk!"
The tall, thin one stepped forward, pointing a crowbar at William.
"Hand over all your valuables, your phone, your wallet, and that broken bag of yours!"
Broken bag?
William raised an eyebrow; this was his livelihood.
"I say, buddies, we're all just trying to make a living, it's not easy."
William tried to buy time, observing his surroundings.
The alley was narrow, with almost no escape route.
"Who the hell's your buddy?!"
The shorter, sturdier one growled impatiently and lunged at William, his large, fan-like hand reaching directly for his briefcase.
William's pupils suddenly contracted, a chilling coldness shot from the soles of his feet straight to the top of his head, and the shadow of death instantly enveloped him.
He couldn't dodge!
He was about to close his eyes and await death, yet, in this critical moment, it was as if countless tiny electric sparks flashed through his mind, and some hidden power was activated by extreme fear.
Trajectory Prediction (Elementary)!
The shorter punk's fan-like hand seemed to slow down eerily in his eyes.
Every subtle movement of his knuckles, every inch of muscle stretch.
All transformed into a clear, predictable Trajectory, appearing in his mind. It wasn't slow motion, but a precise insight into the future!
William instinctively shifted his body, his right foot moving back half a step with an extremely small amplitude.
"Whoosh!"
The punk's palm grazed his clothes, grabbing at empty air.
Due to his excessive force, the shorter punk stumbled, almost hitting the wall beside him.
"Damn it!"
He cursed, steadied himself, his eyes even fiercer.
The tall, thin one was also stunned, a trace of surprise flashing in his eyes, clearly not expecting William to dodge.
He steadied himself, then anger surged, and he growled, "Damn it, this kid's weird!" His eyes became even more ferocious.
William himself was a bit bewildered; that move just now was almost a natural bodily reaction.
So, this ability could be used like this?
Just predicting a simple linear movement of a limb seemed barely feasible.
Before he could think further, the tall, thin one was already swinging the crowbar down, aiming for his head.
A gust of wind rushed at his face.
William focused again.
The crowbar's Trajectory, though curved, appeared unusually clear in his eyes as it descended.
He suddenly ducked to the left, and the crowbar narrowly swept past his head, smashing into the trash can behind him with a deafening clang.
"Still daring to dodge!"
Both punks were enraged, closing in again from left and right.
Cold sweat beaded on William's forehead.
Resilient Skin couldn't withstand a full-force blow from a crowbar.
He couldn't passively take hits anymore.
His gaze swept over the briefcase in his hand.
This was his most effective "weapon."
When the shorter punk swung his fist again, William didn't dodge this time.
Trajectory Prediction clearly told him the direction and speed of the fist.
He took a deep breath, not retreating but advancing, meeting the punch, and forcefully blocked upwards with the briefcase in his hand.
"Bang!"
A dull thud.
The hard corner of the briefcase struck the punk's wrist squarely.
"Ow!"
The shorter punk cried out in pain, his wrist tingling, his attack stalled.
Now!
William seized this fleeting opportunity, twisted his body with the momentum, clenched his other hand into a fist, and, using all his strength, delivered a powerful punch to the opponent's relatively soft abdomen.
"Ugh!"
The shorter punk grunted, bent over from the blow, a look of pain on his face.
William's fist also throbbed with pain, but he couldn't bother with it.
Seeing his companion suffer, the tall, thin one roared and swept the crowbar horizontally from the side, aiming for William's ribs.
William caught the crowbar's Trajectory out of the corner of his eye.
He leaped back abruptly, simultaneously using the briefcase in his hand as a shield, holding it in front of him.
"Clang!"
The crowbar struck the briefcase squarely, emitting a loud crash.
The immense force made William's arm almost lose sensation.
His tiger's mouth throbbed with pain, and the leather surface of the briefcase even showed a clear dent, vividly recording the intensity of the impact.
He staggered back two steps before barely regaining his balance.
"This bag's pretty tough!"
The tall, thin one cursed, still wanting to attack.
But William no longer gave him the chance.
That last block had severely jolted and numbed his arm, but it had also created a tiny opening between him and the tall, thin one.
He suddenly thrust the briefcase forward, not to smash, but to push.
The front of the briefcase was directly aimed at the tall, thin one's face.
The tall, thin one instinctively tried to block with his hand.
In that instant, William's right foot shot out like a venomous snake, accurately and swiftly kicking the tall, thin one's shinbone.
"Crack!"
The crisp sound of bone breaking echoed clearly in the narrow alley.
"Ah—!"
The tall, thin one let out a heart-wrenching scream, his entire face contorted, unable to hold the crowbar any longer, which clattered to the ground with a harsh clang.
He clutched his broken shin, his face pale, kneeling on one knee, cold sweat pouring down his forehead, his body trembling uncontrollably.
William panted heavily, his heart pounding, his lungs burning.
He looked at the two punks lying on the ground, groaning like dead dogs—one curled up clutching his stomach, the other clutching his shin, pale with pain—both completely incapacitated.
For a moment, only their heavy breathing and painful groans remained in the alley.
He won?
He actually defeated two armed robbers?
An indescribable feeling surged through him.
There was the lingering fear of having survived a disaster, and the relief of a narrow escape.
And even more… an unprecedented, thrilling, and unfamiliar sense of excitement!
Is this… what it feels like to have power?
The powerful feeling of controlling one's own destiny, and even counteracting others?
Even with just elementary Trajectory Prediction and Resilient Skin, combined with the street smarts and desperate courage ignited in a desperate situation, he could unleash such astonishing effects!
William slowly straightened up, glanced at his weathered briefcase, which now had a deep crowbar mark, clearly recording the brutality of the encounter.
He bent down and picked up the crowbar that had fallen to the ground, weighing it in his hand.
The cold metallic texture carried a hint of danger, but now it felt docile in his hand.
He walked over to the two punks.
Seeing him approach, their eyes filled with unprecedented fear, even a hint of despair.
"B… Big Brother, we were wrong! Please spare us! We didn't know who we were dealing with!"
The shorter, sturdier one was the first to beg for mercy, his voice choked with tears, his body trembling like a sieve.
William said nothing, only lightly tapped the shorter punk's sweat-streaked cheek with the cold crowbar shaft.
"Remember, keep your eyes open next time."
William's voice was soft, yet carried an undeniable coldness.
With that, he casually tossed the crowbar aside, didn't spare them another glance, picked up his briefcase, and turned to walk out of the musty, blood-scented alley.
The moonlight once again fell upon him, stretching his Shadow long, forming a stark contrast with the darkness of the alley.
His footsteps were still hurried, but compared to his panicked state when he arrived, there was now an inexplicable composure and confidence, and a deeply hidden sharpness.
Tonight, he not only witnessed the power of a hero but also personally experienced… his own small, yet constantly awakening and growing power!
And this was just the beginning.