[Note: I'm sorry I had to cut down updates so abruptly. It will be back to normal (and maybe even 2/per day) very soon!]
Several days passed by and they could be described as anything but uneventful. Each day was a new set of training for Atlas meaning, a new type of torture.
He insisted on retrying previous training exercises, however, Apollo would not let him. The teen had a lingering suspicion that he had already conquered those training sessions.
Across the week he had also jumped from Level 2 of the Awakening stage all the way to Level 5. He was pretty excited and wanted to keep levelling, however, Apollo told him something that he knew he wouldn't be forgetting any time soon.
"I suggest that you don't rush it. Your foundation isn't stable. All you've been doing is fighting. You haven't accumulated enough progress and coupled with your Energy sensitivity, a single mistake can mess your advancement up for the rest of your life,"
And so, with those words, Atlas was doing his best to stay put and consolidate his foundation as a cultivator of the Level 5 Awakening Stage.
He had no pressing matters to attend to. There were no attacks on him, no need for money, and no need to put in the effort. That was all there was, really... until something occurred.
"Recently, there has been a series of connected murders happening in several areas. Officials are warning civilians to steer clear of these areas, especially at night, and a series of letters were found written on paper at these scenes. Experts are wondering whether this is a message and whether it relates to the upcoming gang known as the Titans."
Atlas turned off the TV angrily, smashing the remote against the floor. "Bullshit!"
He frowned and got up from his chair, pacing around the luxurious cafe. Apollo looked at him amusedly and folded his arms.
"Don't worry about it. Those murders are 'connected' to us, but not in the way you would expect."
Atlas thought for a second and understood what Apollo was implying.
"They're threatening us? Why would they use murders to do that, though? It was overkill, quite literally speaking." Clyde lifted his glasses as he wore a questioning look.
Eyebrows furrowed until eventually, they dismissed it.
"If they need something, they should just come and say it. We'll strike only if they keep doing it." Atlas waved nonchalantly as he sat back down. He wasn't some stupid hero who thought they could save everyone or could rid the world of all evil.
He did know, though, that the people in the room were almost close to family at that point and anyone who messed with the family would have to pay the price, eventually.
"Hey, Apollo, when do you think your brothers will be done with what we asked for?"
The god shook his head with a wry smile. "Knowing Hephaestus, he's probably doing more than what we asked for. As for Hermes? That asshole will deliver as soon as the items are finished."
Apollo seemed to always have a bitter expression as he talked about his family. So did the Demigod club members. None of them really spoke of their families, though. So far, he was only aware of little portions of Mers' and Clyde's ancestry.
It was to be expected. After reading about the gods and their sexual endeavours, Atlas instantly felt pity for them and was more grateful that his father was actually there for him and his mom.
After thinking a lot and considering his minuscule lunch, Atlas had a sudden rave for food. His mom didn't make
"I'm starving. I'm heading out to eat." He grabbed his large grey coat, which was a part of the new clothing items Apollo bought for him.
It was one of the few that the teen liked, mostly because huge guns could be hidden in there. Although, he mostly only kept pistols in there.
"I feel like eating something fancy…" He murmured to himself as he walked forwards. A place immediately came to mind.
The teen took long strides and eventually reached a small restaurant with a lot of expensive-looking things and exotic dishes being served to customers from left to right.
Atlas stared at the place with an uncanny familiarity. He felt as though he had been there before, but it didn't immediately ring any bells. That was until he saw the owner of the restaurant at the front door.
"This…"
. . .
*Three Years Ago*
"Sir, I need this job, please!" A young voice called out with desperation.
The short, pudgy man he was talking to furrowed his brows and kicked the young boy away. He then wiped his sleeves against a nearby surface disgustedly.
"Get lost. I have no need for a kid in my kitchen,"
"But I need the job. My m-m-mom has been s-sick and my f-father died not long ago!" The boy teared up, clinging to the pudgy man's suit trousers.
However, the man seemed to lack all sympathy as a human being and immediately kicked the boy off again.
"Didn't I tell you to get the fuck away from me?! I have no need for riff-raff and tears in my kitchen. Your mom could die for all I care and I still wouldn't give you the job! Go and work as a barber or something. Maybe you can get a job at the street stalls, but this is a classy establishment. People like you are not welcome!"
The boy walked away, tears streaming down his face and sniffles echoing in the dark alleyway. Inwardly, he swore that he would get his revenge one day.
. . .
*Back to the present*
"This was the place I wanted to work at back then!" Atlas cried out in sudden realization.
'I can't believe I forgot!'
His eyes narrowed, and he stared at the pudgy old man that had almost inadvertently caused his mother's death. He walked over to the man that was welcoming customers and just stood over him.
"Who is the stupid…"
The pudgy man whipped around angrily and looked up to meet Atlas' gaze.
"It's you from all those years ago! I'm not accepting new employees. Go away." The man restrained his words, considering the dozens of customers watching.
Atlas took in a deep breath as he prepared for his three-year-long vengeance.
"Three years ago, I came here after my father died and when my mother was chronically ill. Three years ago, I asked you for a job. Three years ago, your words to me were that you didn't care if my mother died. Now three years later, I am here, not to ask for a job,"
As he said that, he began to slowly pull something out of his coat pocket. The man tensed up and looked like he wanted to flee, probably thinking it was a gun. However, it wasn't.
"I wonder if you pay your employees as much as this in a month?"
It was a stack of money! All hundred-dollar notes!
"Take it!" Atlas then threw the money into the air, letting it fly down all around him.
"Next time, I suggest that you don't take others' plight for granted."
****
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