Kendricks lunged first.
Driven by sheer humiliation, he channeled every ounce of his 5th stage Foundation Building energy into his right fist, throwing a wild, heavy wind-up punch aimed directly at Asterius’s nose.
It was a classic street-brawler move—brutal, loud, and entirely telegraphed.
To Asterius, the punch moved in slow motion.
It was so agonizingly slow he could have stepped out, checked his phone, and stepped back in before the fist arrived.
*Amateur.*
Asterius didn’t even bother dodging completely.
He simply leaned his head back half an inch.
Kendricks’s fist whistled uselessly through the empty air, missing the tip of his nose by a hairsbreadth.
Before Kendricks could even process the fact that he had missed, Asterius stepped *into* his guard.
*Clang!*
Asterius delivered a swift, brutal palm strike straight into Kendricks’s exposed chest.
The raw kinetic force hit like a sledgehammer.
Kendricks felt the air instantly blasted out of his lungs with a sickening gasp, his eyes bulging as he stumbled backward, his feet dragging against the pavement.
“What are you two waiting for?!
Get him!” Kendricks wheezed, clutching his chest in agony.
Reginald and Danning snapped out of their shock and charged together.
Reginald lunged with a low kick aimed at Asterius’s knee, while the massive Danning threw a heavy, swinging hook toward his temple.
Asterius moved like a ghost.
He lifted his left leg, stomping down hard on Reginald’s incoming shin with precise force.
A sharp crack echoed through the alley, followed immediately by Reginald’s high-pitched scream as he collapsed to his knees, clutching his leg.
Without breaking momentum, Asterius spun on his heel, slipping right under Danning’s wild hook.
He caught the brute’s thick wrist with one hand, twisted it violently outward to dislocate the shoulder joint, and smashed an elbow straight into Danning’s exposed jaw.
*Thwack!*
Blood sprayed across the brick wall.
Danning went instantly limp, dropping onto the cold asphalt like a sack of wet flour, completely knocked out cold.
The entire exchange had taken less than three seconds.
The quiet alley was now filled with the sound of Reginald whimpering on the ground and Danning’s heavy, unconscious snoring.
Kendricks was trembling, backed up against the rusted metal of a dumpster.
His face was pale, his arrogant posture completely destroyed.
He looked at the bloody, unconscious bodies of his cronies, then looked up at Asterius, who was standing over them without a single hair out of place, his breathing as calm and steady as if he were reading a book.
“You…
you’re not Ceres…” Kendricks stammered, horror suffocating his chest.
“What…
what kind of monster are you?!”
“I told you,” Asterius said softly, stepping over Danning’s leg as he approached Kendricks.
“I’m a changed man.”
Asterius reached out, grabbed Kendricks by his collar, and yanked him forward, slamming him hard against the wall.
Kendricks let out a pathetic whimper as Asterius raised his right fist, pulling it back.
His knuckles tightened, vitality energy coiling tightly around his fist like a whip.
He prepared to deliver a devastating blow that would ensure Kendricks never picked on another human being for the rest of his miserable life.
Asterius unleashed the punch.
*Swish—*
Halfway to Kendricks’s bloody face, Asterius’s fist came to a dead, sudden stop in mid-air.
An incredible, crushing force clamped down around his wrist.
Asterius’s eyes widened in genuine shock.
The grip on his arm was like an iron vise—solid, immovable, and infused with a dense, terrifyingly refined energy that dwarfed everyone else in the alley.
What shocked Asterius the most, however, was that he hadn’t felt this person’s approach *at all*.
His ancient combat instincts, refined through a hundred battlefields, had completely failed to pick up a presence behind him.
It seemed that his senses had dulled because of this peaceful life.
Asterius froze, his lethal momentum checked.
Slowly, deliberately, Asterius turned his head over his shoulder to look at the intruder.
Standing right behind him in the dim alley light was a young man who looked to be around his age—seventeen or eighteen years old.
He was remarkably handsome, carrying an effortless, high-class elegance that stood out drastically against the filthy, trash-strewn alley.
He had a mop of striking, ash-gray curly hair that fell messily over his forehead, and deep, piercing eyes that were currently staring down at Asterius with a heavy look of deep, unmistakable disapproval.
The guy was wearing a simple, high-end martial arts training jacket, his posture completely relaxed despite holding Asterius’s punch in a vice grip with a single hand.
“That’s enough,” the ash-haired youth said, his voice smooth, deep, and carrying a quiet authority that echoed through the narrow space.
“He’s already beaten, bloodied, and terrified.
A true warrior doesn’t use his strength to butcher helpless trash in a dark alley.”
Asterius narrowed his eyes, his ancient pride flaring softly beneath his calm exterior.
He tested the strength in the guy’s grip, realizing with a thrill of anticipation that he had just stumbled upon someone truly dangerous.
“And who,” Asterius asked, his voice dripping with icy charm, “asked for your opinion?”
The silence that followed stretched thin and taut, heavy enough to snap.
The ash-haired youth didn’t flinch under Asterius’s cold gaze.
Instead, his deep eyes narrowed slightly, his grip on Asterius’s wrist remaining as solid as forged steel.
He didn’t tighten his hold out of malice, but the sheer density of the energy coursing beneath his skin sent a subtle tremor through the air between them.
It wasn’t the sloppy, unrefined vitality of a street thug like Kendricks; it was the pristine, concentrated aura of someone who had undergone rigorous elite cultivation.
“No one asked,” the newcomer replied smoothly, his tone entirely unhurried.
“Consider it free advice.
A warrior who loses control of his momentum over trash like this is just a bully with better technique.”
Asterius let out a quiet, dry laugh.
He didn’t pull against the grip with brute force; instead, he rotated his wrist at a hyper-precise angle, shifting his center of gravity by a fraction of an inch to neutralize the kinetic leverage.
With a fluid, snake-like flick of his forearm, he slipped his hand clean out of the iron vise.
The ash-haired youth’s eyebrows twitched upward—a tiny flicker of genuine surprise crossing his features as he felt his grip effortlessly bypassed.
Asterius released his hold on Kendricks’s collar.
The terrified hooligan immediately collapsed onto his hands and knees, scrambling backward through the alley mud until his back hit the far wall, weeping softly as he clutched his bruised ribs.
Asterius turned his full body around, stepping back to face the stranger properly.
He took a brief second to scan the young man from head to toe. The source of this chapter is g.com.
The cuts of the training jacket were subtle, but the high-grade weave betrayed its cost—this wasn’t standard market gear.
His posture was light on his feet, his center of gravity low and fluid, and the faint, rhythmic pulse of his breath suggested an internal stage far beyond the mundane Foundation Building stage.
“You speak as if you know what a true warrior is,” Asterius said, rolling his wrist in a slow circle to stretch the joint.
“Stepping into another man’s business from the shadows.
Where I come from, that’s called looking for a fight.”
“And where I come from,” the ash-haired youth countered, folding his arms across his broad chest, “watching someone about to cave in a sniveling coward’s skull behind a convenience store is called an eyesore.
I was on my way to grab a drink.
I didn’t expect to stumble into a slaughterhouse.”
“He sought me out,” Asterius noted mildly, gesturing with his thumb toward the whimpering Kendricks.
“He wanted my credits, my dignity, and presumably my teeth.
I merely delivered a prompt response.”
“And the response was delivered,” the gray-haired youth said, glancing down at Danning’s limp, unconscious body and Reginald’s shattered leg.
“They won’t be extortionists anytime soon.
Pushing it further crosses the line from self-defense into slaughter.”
“A slaughter would have required a blade,” Asterius retorted dryly.
“I used my hands.
That makes it charity work.”
For the first time since he had stepped out of the darkness, the ash-haired guy let out a faint, amused breath—a brief crack in his serious demeanor.
“You’ve got a sharp mouth.
Though I have to admit…
your body control is bizarre.
You don’t possess high-tier energy reserves, yet the way you dismantled those three was disturbingly efficient.
Where did you learn to strike like that?”
Asterius tilted his head, his dark eyes sparkling with secretive amusement.
“I picked it up in the wilderness.
Reading books, dodging monsters, avoiding bad company.”
“Right.
Books,” the youth said, his tone heavy with sarcasm.
He looked down at the ground between them, then back up into Asterius’s eyes.
“Well, ‘bookworm,’ my name is Julian.
And while I don’t care much for street thugs, I do respect skill.
But if you keep flexing that dark intent around civilian areas, someone far less reasonable than me will notice.”
Asterius eyed Julian carefully.
The name didn’t trigger any immediate recognition in Ceres’s memories, but the sheer presence the boy carried suggested he was either from an influential military family or an elite martial institute outside this regional sector.
“Julian,” Asterius repeated, testing the name on his tongue.
“I appreciate the warning, but I assure you, my intent was entirely controlled.”
“It didn’t look controlled from where I was standing,” Julian replied smoothly.
He shifted his stance slightly, his shoulders setting into a subtle guard that signaled he was ready for a sudden shift in the wind.
“Your fist was carrying enough force to fracture his cheekbone into three pieces.
That’s not control, that’s anger.”
“That’s efficiency,” Asterius corrected, his voice calm.
“If a wild beast snaps at your heel, you don’t pat it on the head and ask it to reflect on its actions.
You break its teeth so it remembers never to bite again.”
“Humans aren’t wild beasts,” Julian said firmly.
“Some are,” Asterius replied without hesitation.
“Some are far worse.”
Julian stared at him for a long, silent moment.
The alley felt strangely vast around them, the whimpers of Kendricks falling into the background like background noise.
The air was charged with a mutual recognition—two individuals who operated on a plane entirely separate from the average high school student.
Slowly, Julian relaxed his posture, letting his arms drop to his sides.
“You’re an odd one.
I haven’t seen you around the local district academies.
What’s your name?”
“Ceres,” Asterius answered simply.
Julian raised an eyebrow, a skeptical look passing over his handsome face.
“Ceres?
As in the Turner family’s eldest son?”
Asterius paused, his eyes narrowing slightly.
“You know me?”
“I know of you,” Julian clarified, stepping back toward the mouth of the alley.
“My family keeps tabs on the local martial census.
Ceres Turner…
registered as a low-tier candidate, barely scraping through the initial Foundation stages.
Known for being timid, quiet, and physically fragile.”
Julian paused, casting a long look at the crushed asphalt beneath Reginald’s leg and the bloody wall behind Danning.
“Either those census reports were written by blind men,” Julian continued, a faint smirk touching his lips, “or you’ve been playing the long game, hiding your strength behind a pathetic reputation.
Which one is it?”
“Perhaps the reports were just lazy,” Asterius replied evenly, keeping his composure intact.
“Or perhaps people only see what they expect to see.”
“Fair enough,” Julian said, taking another step backward out of the alley shadows into the bright yellow glow of the streetlamp.
“I came out here for an energy drink, but finding a hidden monster in a back alley was certainly more interesting.
I’ll be seeing you around, Ceres.
Try not to kill anyone before the weekend ends.”
“I make no promises,” Asterius called out softly.
Julian gave a brief, two-finger salute without turning around, his tall frame disappearing into the late-night foot traffic along the main sidewalk.
Asterius stood alone in the dim alley for a moment longer, watching the space where Julian had vanished. Read this novel at g.com for the best experience.
His mind worked quickly, analyzing the briefly displayed power.
Julian was strong—easily sitting at the upper stages of Qi Condensation or perhaps even touching the threshold of something higher.
His control was refined, his footwork silent, and his instincts ridiculously sharp.
*The modern world has its share of real talents after all,* Asterius thought, a satisfying warmth spreading through his chest.
*It seems the VR platform isn’t the only place I’ll find a decent challenge.*
A loud, shuddering sob snapped Asterius out of his thoughts.
He turned his gaze down toward the floor.
Kendricks was huddled in the dirt, clutching his chest, staring up at Asterius as if he were looking at the devil himself.
Reginald was unconscious from the pain of his broken shin, and Danning was still out cold against the dumpster.
Asterius stepped forward slowly, his heavy footfalls echoing off the brick walls.
Kendricks flinched violent with every step, squeezing his eyes shut.
“P-please…” Kendricks whimpered, his voice cracking hysterically.
“Don’t…
don’t hit me again!
I’m sorry!
I’ll never come near you again!
I swear to God!”
Asterius stopped directly in front of him, looking down at the trembling bully with a look of quiet, cold detachment.
He reached into his pocket, pulled out his phone, and tossed it onto the ground right beside Kendricks’s bloody knee.
“Your wrist display,” Asterius commanded, his voice dropping into a flat, icy tone.
Kendricks didn’t hesitate for a single second.
With trembling, blood-stained fingers, he activated his holographic band and initiated a direct transfer.
*Ping!*
Asterius’s phone lit up with a soft chime.
A notification flashed across the screen: **[Transfer Received: 15,000 Federation Credits.]**
“T-that’s everything I have!” Kendricks sobbed, wiping his bloody nose with his sleeve.
“Every single credit!
Just take it!
Please!”
Asterius picked up his phone, glanced at the balance, and slid it back into his pocket.
“Consider this an educational fee,” Asterius said softly, leaning down so his face was inches from Kendricks’s pale, terrified eyes.
“You and your friends spent months taking from Ceres.
Today, I took it back with interest.
If I ever see you, or your little gang, within three blocks of my mother’s restaurant or my sister’s school…
I won’t be as merciful as that gray-haired boy was.”
“I won’t!
I swear!
We’ll move!
We’ll leave the district!” Kendricks shrieked, nodding his head so fast it looked like his neck might snap.
“Good,” Asterius said, standing back up to his full height and smoothing out his shirt.
“Now clean up your trash and get out of my sight.”
Without waiting for a response, Asterius turned on his heel and walked out of the alley, stepping back into the warm, bright glow of the main street.
The cool night air felt clean against his skin, washing away the foul stench of the alley.
Asterius took a deep breath, letting the steady rhythm of his heart settle back to its normal baseline.
He walked over to the convenience store double doors, which slid open automatically with a quiet, mechanical hum.
Inside, the store was brightly lit, clean, and completely quiet.
A tired-looking clerk sat behind the counter, staring lazily at a holographic screen and barely glancing up as Asterius walked down the snack aisle.
Asterius perused the neatly organized shelves, picking up a cold bottle of high-grade vitality juice and a small box of honey-roasted nuts.
He walked up to the counter, placed the items on the scanner, and tapped his phone against the payment pad.
*Ping!*
**[Transaction Complete: 45 Federation Credits.]**
Using the credits he had just extorted from the neighborhood bully to buy sweet snacks in a pristine convenience store brought a dark, ironic smile to Asterius’s face.
He popped the top off the vitality juice, taking a small sip as he walked back out into the cool night.
The drink was sweet, artificial, and surprisingly refreshing.
Walking back down the sidewalk toward his house, Asterius looked up at the vast, star-dusted night sky.
The neon lights of the city painted the clouds in vibrant shades of pink and violet, creating a stark contrast with the dark, primal memories of his past life.
He had faced virtual martial artists in the VR pod, disciplined the trash of his local neighborhood, and crossed paths with a genuine young talent from the higher circles—all in a single afternoon.
*This new life,* Asterius thought, taking a handful of honey-roasted nuts and tossing them into his mouth, *is starting to get interesting.*
Reaching his front porch, he opened the door quietly and stepped inside.
The house was quiet, save for the soft sound of the TV still running in the living room.
Ellen was still lounging on the couch, her phone hovering over her face as she scrolled through social media feeds.
She glanced up as he walked past, her sharp eyes immediately catching the small plastic convenience store bag in his hand.
“You were gone for thirty minutes,” Ellen noted, her voice carrying its usual dry tone.
“Did you get lost two streets over, big brother?”
“Not at all,” Asterius replied smoothly, walking over and tossing the box of honey-roasted nuts onto her lap.
“Brought you a snack.”
Ellen caught the box, looking down at it in surprise before looking back up at him, her eyes narrowing in suspicion.
“Honey-roasted?
You hate these.
And where did you get the credits for this?
You were complaining about being broke last time.”
Asterius smiled faintly, heading toward the stairs.
“A very generous neighbor insisted on donating to my personal fund.
He was very passionate about supporting my martial path.”
Ellen stared at his back as he began climbing the stairs, her sharp intuition sensing that something wild had definitely happened while he was out, but unable to prove it.
“You’re getting weirder by the hour, Ceres!” she called out after him.
“Get used to it,” Asterius called back, his voice full of quiet, effortless laughter as he disappeared into the upper hallway, heading back toward his room to prepare for the long road ahead.