About 10 minutes later, Zelpher slowly regained consciousness.
His entire body ached — each movement sending a pulse of agony up his ribs, down his back, into his knuckles.
His left side, where Kastone's kick had connected, throbbed with a deep, raw pain.
He tried to move, but a sharp spike in his abdomen forced him back down.
Gritting his teeth, he pressed a shaky hand against his side, drew in a shaky breath, and, with immense effort, began to rise.
His knees trembled beneath him, threatening to collapse, and he braced himself against the nearby wall — its brick surface damp with city rain, its texture rough under his fingertips.
Each step was agony, yet something kept him going — pure, bitter resentment.
'Damn that Kastone…' he whispered quietly, his grip tightening weakly. 'If it weren't for the fact that he's a Level E Evolver… I wouldn't just…'
His voice faltered, fading into silence as he forced himself forward.
'This is why I really… don't like Evolvers… thinking they're above everyone… that they can do whatever they want.'
He turned down a side alley, its fence glimmering faintly under a solitary neon sign, until he finally reached his small, dilapidated, one-room apartment — the only refuge he could afford in this forsaken corner of the city.
Inside, he fell down directly onto his mattress — a thin, lumpy pad resting against the floor — and let out a heavy, pained sigh.
He'd scraped together every paycheck to afford even this small refuge — a step up from nights spent under the icy city skies — but it was a start, a place he could call his own.
The moment his body fell into oblivion, exhaustion overtook him, and he slipped into a deep, dreamless sleep.
When he opened his eyes again, the first rays of dawn glimmered through the slats of his window. Surprisingly, he felt… lighter, more rested, more energetic — as if last night's injuries had completely disappeared.
He turned this way and that, noting the unmarked skin where there should have been bruises, abrasions, and cuts.
Shaking his head in disbelief, he stood up, stretched, and made his way to the small restroom to wash up.
After putting on a fresh set of clothes, he prepared for the day ahead — a weekend without school — a chance to clear his mind, or at least pretend everything was normal, just for a little while.
He headed to his weekend job as a store clerk — not just a corner store, but a large, bustling department store that drew in a steady stream of shoppers.
He still remembered the first time he'd walked through its doors, years ago.
He had come in to apply for a job, quietly waiting his turn at the cashier while a crowd pressed forward to pay.
When it was finally his turn, he hadn't meant for anything more than a brief inquiry — but instead he bought a single bottle of water.
That small purchase turned his fate on its head.
He was the store's 1,000,000th customer — a momentous event that meant a huge payout and a grand prize: a large sum of cash and a cruise ship voucher.
The store's manager, noticing his youth and potential, struck up a conversation with him.
Using his extensive network and influence, the manager secured Zelpher a place at a renowned academy — a place normally well beyond the reach of someone from the streets.
Zelpher knew he didn't truly belong there — not by birth, nor by power — but the opportunity was his.
He hoped that by graduating from the academy, he might one day be able to redeem his future, to live a peaceful, ordinary life without constantly looking over his shoulder or wondering where his next meal would come from.
He hadn't forgotten that kindness.
He kept his weekend clerk's job not just to make a living, but as a way to pay back the man who had opened a world of opportunity for him — a world he hoped he could make his own.
Every weekend, while his friends rested or played, Zelpher stood at the cashier, honoring that moment — a moment that had set him on a path toward something greater — with hard work, humility, and a deep, relentless hope for peace.
Zelpher slipped his phone back into his pocket and tugged up his hoodie against the chilly morning air.
The department store was just a few blocks away — a colossal, glass-and-steel structure that glimmered under the weak rays of dawn.
He turned down the side streets, his breath misting in small clouds, until he reached its rear delivery entrance — a plain metal door that many shoppers passed by without a second thought.
He pressed his employee keycard against the sensor. The lock clicked, and he slipped inside, exchanging the barren cityscape for a world of color, warmth, and bustling activity.
The moment the heavy metal door fell shut, a rush of conditioned air washed over him — heavy with the scent of new fabrics, cardboard, and freshly cleaned floors.
He made his way to the staff locker room — a narrow space filled with benches, metal lockers, and the chorus of closing locks — and opened his own. Inside was his department store uniform: a crisp green vest with a gold name tag, a white-collared shirt, black slacks, and comfortable shoes designed for hours of movement.
He exchanged his hoodie for his uniform, carefully folding it before placing it alongside his jeans. His knuckles, barely scabbed, drew faint lines against the metal as he pressed the locker closed.
Walking back toward the store's main floor, Zelpher fell into a routine that kept his mind anchored.
He restocked the barren produce stands, adding perfectly ripened peaches, clusters of grapes, and neatly bundled kale — placing each item in its proper spot.
He turned cans forward on their shelves, filled displays, and made sure everything was spotless and presentable.
He nodded casually to Riko and Saul, the two Evolver Level-D security guards who kept watch near the entrance.
Riko, a heavyset man with piercing green eyes, raised a hand in greeting, and Saul, taller with a mess of blonde locks, nodded back — a silent affirmation that their team was looking out for him.
Zelpher liked them.
Riko and Saul were a rare kind — Evolvers who used their abilities to keep ordinary people safe instead of adding to the chaos.
He hadn't forgotten the time a group of thugs tried to rob the store after closing; Riko had effortlessly disarmed them without causing permanent harm, while Saul stayed by Zelpher's side, quietly protecting him until the danger passed.
Zelpher kept his routines, kept his worries to himself, and kept that small spark of hope alive — that not all Evolvers chose power over justice. Because here, under their vigilant eyes, discretion meant survival — for him and for everyone else in the store.