After the beetle battle, exhaustion crashed over Ethan like a wave. His regeneration talent had closed his wounds, but mental fatigue lingered, his mana reserves depleted from activating multiple talents simultaneously.
Although he wanted nothing more than rest, he want unable to.
"I need to get stronger," he muttered, wiping blood from his face. "I'm being hunted by humans and beasts."
No time to rest. Not with General Han's men searching the city. Not with Silver-rank monsters preparing to attack.
Everything counted now.
The next few hours blurred together. A Peak-Iron Shadowfang Wolf fell to his arrows. A High-Iron Razorback charged to its death. A pack of smaller beasts scattered before his transformed state. None provided the attribute gains or talents he craved, but their cores weren't bad.
After some time, Ethan checked the eastern horizon. The faintest lightening of the sky warned of approaching dawn.
"Not a bad harvest," he said, extracting the core from his final victim.
He stored the core alongside the others in his ring. Not enough to change the world, but enough to advance his plans.
"Alright. That's enough hunting for now."
His body demanded rest.
Even Bronze-rank warriors had limits, and he'd pushed his to the edge. Four hours of sleep would restore his mana and let his regeneration talent finish its work.
Returning to the city proved easier than leaving it. The night guards, bored and drowsy after their uneventful shift, barely patrolled the section of wall he'd mapped as vulnerable.
All it took was a quick climb, a silent vault, and he was back in District Three's filthy streets.
The restaurant's back entrance unlocked and Ethan slipped inside, careful not to wake Lin or her father as he made his way to the storage room that now served as his sanctuary.
The couch had never looked so inviting. He collapsed onto it fully clothed, his body finally surrendering to exhaustion.
…
A few hours later, Ethan woke to the sound of the storage room door creaking open.
He jolted upright, hand automatically reaching for the knife hidden beneath his pillow. Bronze-rank reflexes had him halfway to a fighting stance before his conscious mind caught up.
"Sorry. I must've woken you up."
Lin stood in the doorway, a tray balanced in her hands. Morning light filtered through the small window behind her, casting her silhouette in a gentle glow.
"It's fine," Ethan said, relaxing his posture. "I was about to get up anyway."
Lin's eyes widened slightly as she took in his appearance. Though he'd washed most of the blood off before returning, bruises still mottled his exposed skin. The deep gash on his face had mostly healed thanks to his Regeneration talent, but a fresh pink scar remained.
"You went out last night," she said. Not a question.
Ethan didn't deny it. "Had some business to take care of."
"Fighting business, looks like." She set the tray down on a nearby crate. Rice porridge, steamed buns, and hot tea. The simple meal smelled better than any feast at the military canteen.
"Something like that."
Lin lingered by the door, clearly wanting to ask more but hesitating.
"Why are you helping me?" Ethan asked before she could speak. "You and your father. You know I'm trouble."
She considered the question, head tilting slightly. "You seem like a nice guy."
"Is that why you're helping? That's it?"
Lin did not respond and simply smiled.
Some soldiers came by this morning asking questions. Showing a sketch."
"What did you tell them?"
"That we haven't seen anyone matching that description." She shrugged. "It wasn't hard to lie. They barely looked at me."
Ethan nodded, tension easing from his shoulders. "Thank you."
"Just eat before it gets cold," she said, turning to leave.
"Thank you for the food," He said, looking at her back as she left.
"You are welcome," She turned to respond before leaving and closing the door softly behind her.
He stared at the door for a second. Then he turned to the meal, suddenly aware of how ravenous he felt after a night of hunting.
The porridge disappeared in seconds, followed by two steamed buns that barely touched the sides of his throat. Bronze-rank metabolism burned through calories at an alarming rate, especially after regenerating multiple wounds.
"I really need to learn how to cook," he muttered, his mouth still full as he stuffed in the last bite. "Maybe I should ask Lin's father to teach me someday."
Cooking had never been a priority in either of his lives. His first existence ended too early for such skills, and military scouts ate whatever slop the canteen provided. But now, with power growing daily and his future uncertain, self-sufficiency mattered more than ever.
After finishing every crumb, Ethan realised that he had nothing to do.
'Maybe I should try practicing my basic footwork skill.' He thought glancing at the area around him.