Donald followed Evelyn out of the dark alley and into the busy streets of Sector 4. The evening crowd was thick. Workers with tired faces hurried home, and neon signs buzzed over cheap food stalls.
Nobody paid attention to them. In the Genesis Ward, two people walking away from a fight was completely normal. But Donald still felt incredibly awkward.
He was carrying a thirty-pound B-Rank military weapon on his right arm, and his clothes were covered in monster blood, sewer mud, and dirt.
"I look like a crazy person," Donald whispered, trying to hide the heavy Pile Bunker behind his leg.
Evelyn stopped by a street vendor selling cheap canvas tarps. She tossed the vendor a single credit coin, grabbed a thick gray tarp, and threw it to Donald.
"Wrap the weapon in that," she instructed. "Carry it over your shoulder like a bag of scrap. And stop slouching. You aren’t a victim anymore. Walk like a man who knows how to break bones."
Donald quickly wrapped the metal tube in the tarp and slung it over his shoulder. He forced himself to stand up straight. He puffed out his chest a little. Surprisingly, it felt natural. With his Level 4 stats, his back didn’t ache, and the heavy weapon felt as light as a feather.
They walked for another ten minutes until Evelyn stopped in front of a brightly lit shop called Iron & Thread Surplus. It wasn’t a fancy boutique from the upper city, but it sold clean, durable clothes for low-level Awakeners and mercenaries.
Evelyn walked in like she owned the place. Donald followed timidly behind her.
"We need a full set," Evelyn told the bored clerk behind the counter. "Dark colors. Reinforced stitching. Something that won’t tear the second he gets into a fight."
She didn’t even ask Donald what he liked. She started pulling clothes off the racks, holding them up against his chest, and tossing them aside if she didn’t like them.
"Go," Evelyn said, shoving a pile of black cargo trousers, a tight gray long-sleeve shirt, and a heavy dark trench coat into his arms. "Fitting room is in the back. Put these on."
Donald nodded and hurried into the tiny, poorly lit fitting room. He pulled the curtain closed.
He set his wrapped weapon down and took off his ruined, bloody jacket. He peeled off his sweaty, dirty t-shirt.
For the first time since he got the System, Donald actually looked at himself in a mirror. He froze.
Two days ago, he was a skinny, hollow-looking boy with ribs poking through his pale skin. But the massive stat boosts from the System had completely rewritten his biology.
His shoulders were broad and thick. His chest was hard, and his stomach was defined by tight, dense muscle. He didn’t look like a bodybuilder, but he looked incredibly solid, like a coiled spring made of steel wire. The raw 35 Strength and 31 Stamina stats had physically transformed him into a dangerous predator.
Whoa, Donald thought, tracing a hand over his own chest.
Suddenly, the fitting room curtain was yanked to the side.
"I forgot to give you a belt—" Evelyn started to say.
She stopped mid-sentence. Her blue eyes widened slightly as they landed on Donald’s bare, muscular chest and the sharp V-line leading down to his waistband.
Donald let out a panicked squeak and scrambled to cover his chest with his arms, his face turning an explosive shade of red. "E-Evelyn! You can’t just open the curtain!"
Evelyn didn’t look away. Instead, a slow, wicked smirk spread across her lips. Her eyes slowly trailed down his torso, taking in every inch of his new physique. She leaned against the doorframe, clearly enjoying his embarrassment.
"Well, well, well," Evelyn purred, her voice dropping to a low, husky register. "Looks like my little saviour has been hiding some serious assets under those baggy rags. You fill out quite nicely, Donald."
"Please close the curtain!" Donald begged, turning around to hide, his entire body burning with heat.
Evelyn chuckled, a rich, throaty sound. She tossed the black leather belt onto his pile of clothes. "Hurry up and dress, muscle boy. We don’t have all night."
She pulled the curtain shut.
Donald leaned against the wall, covering his face with his hands. His heart was hammering against his ribs. He was not used to a gorgeous, mature woman looking at him like he was a piece of meat.
Donald groaned into his hands. Then He quickly put on the new clothes. The black cargo pants fit perfectly, giving him plenty of room to move. The gray long-sleeve shirt hugged his chest and arms tightly, showing off his new muscles without being ridiculous. He strapped on the thick belt and pulled the long, dark trench coat over his shoulders.
When he stepped out of the fitting room, he looked like a completely different person. He didn’t look like a poor kid from the Slums anymore. He looked like a dark, dangerous Awakener... a rogue or a heavy brawler.
Evelyn was waiting by the counter. She looked at him, and her breath hitched for a tiny fraction of a second. She quickly hid it behind a proud smile.
"Much better," she said, nodding in approval. "You look like someone who actually knows how to use that B-Rank toy you’re carrying."
Donald paid the clerk with the stolen cred-chips. The clothes cost two hundred credits, leaving them with two hundred and fifty.
"Alright," Donald said, picking up his tarp-wrapped Pile Bunker. The long trench coat perfectly hid the heavy weapon when he held it by his side. "I’m ready. Where to next?"
Evelyn walked out of the shop, looking up at the dark night sky. The neon lights of the city reflected in the clouds.
"You have your armor," Evelyn said, her voice turning serious. "Now it’s my turn. We are going to the Midnight Market. It’s an illegal bazaar run by the underground Guilds. They sell unregistered potions, stolen monster cores, and untraceable weapons."
Donald felt a chill run down his spine. "Isn’t it... dangerous?"
"Very much so!" Evelyn smiled, her blue eyes flashing with a predatory thrill. "But with my new healed strength and your C-Rank explosive punch, I think we can handle a little danger. Come on, kid. It’s time to spend the rest of our money."