After the intense battle and the prize money securely tucked away, Arslan found himself strolling through the bustling streets of New York, a small bag of groceries in hand. The weight of his victory still lingered in his mind, but he couldn't help but feel the physical toll it had taken on his body.
Reaching the modest apartment complex where he lived in, Arslan stopped at the entrance, his eyes catching sight of a familiar figure. A small, one-eyed cat named Sparrow appeared, drawn to his smell.
With a gentle smile, Arslan crouched down with his hand tenderly patting the cat's fur. "What's good, Sparrow?" he asked softly, his voice filled with genuine concern as the cat rubbed his back on his hand.
Retrieving a can of tuna from the grocery bag, he placed it beside the cat, ensuring she had a satisfying meal for the night. "I hope you enjoy your dinner more than me tonight," he added with a heavy sigh.
Despite the physical pain he was feeling, Arslan knew that the victory he had secured tonight was worth every ounce of suffering. As he limped inside the apartment building, his determination burned brightly within him.
Climbing the stairs to the third floor, he reached his one-room apartment, a humble little place he called home. The bruises on his body served as a testament to the hardships he had endured to make his dreams and goals to become reality.
Setting the bag of groceries on a small table against the wall, Arslan removed his clothes, revealing the aftermath of his fight. His face twisted in pain as his fingers touched the sore bruises on his body.
Letting out a sigh, he attempted to channel a faint green light through his hand that appeared all of a sudden, but he quickly withdrew it. "Not the time for this," he murmured to himself, acknowledging that he still had some business to take care of first.
Arslan grabbed a soda from the bag, as it was his go to drink for the night. He sat down on the floor, leaning against the wall, and whipped out his phone. Scrolling through it, he was feeling tired but also excited for what was to come.
Arslan chilled out, staring at the screen and forgetting about the wighet he was carrying over his shoulders for a bit. He'd been through a lot, but it was all part of his journey to something better than what he had now. The fight with Voragor was only the first chapter in a story that was far from finished.
He took a sip from his soda, as he was about to make a call, when a sudden knock echoed through the room, making him freeze and glance at the door.
Knock, knock.
It was well past 11 pm, an unusual hour for a visitor. However, Arslan remained unfazed with a knowing look in his eyes as he set aside his phone and retrieved a shirt from his closet.
Slowly, he approached the door and swung it open, revealing a middle-aged man with a light complexion. behind him were two burly figures, their presence commanding attention. The man, dressed in a sharp black suit that contrasted with the scar on his face, he bore the appearance of a businessman, though his demeanor suggested a different background altogether.
"Right on time, like always, James," Arslan greeted with a calm demeanor, leaving the door open as he walked back inside. Without hesitation, James and his companions stepped inside as well, shutting the door behind them.
"Of course I am. Do you think Mr. Spark would come searching for you if I were late with his money?" James replied, a hint of amusement in his eyes. He made his way to the only chair in the room and settled into it before he continued speaking, "Nah, He would be on my ass, demanding answers from me, not you."
Arslan, his gaze fixed on the money he had just earned, began counting it carfully. Once he had separated a substantial portion of it, he handed it over to James as only a small fraction remained in his hands.
James wasted no time, his experienced hands swiftly counting the bills, ensuring their accuracy. He exuded an air of caution and mistrust, a testament to the nature of their dealings.
Arslan's annoyance grew as he watched James continue counting the money, disregarding his desire for a fast conclusion to this matter. Letting out a sigh, he secured the remaining cash in his wallet and settled onto his bed, longing for some much needed rest. "It's all there. No need to drag this any further," he muttered, his weariness seeping into his words.
James, seemingly unaffected by Arslan's impatience, finally finished counting the money. Carefully wrapping the bills with a rubber band, he raised his gaze, fixing his eyes on Arslan in a moment of silence, before he broke that silnce with his voice that was low and persuasive. "You're a good earner, Arslan. Why not join us? I could speak to Mr. Spark, try to negotiate a lower interest rate on your parents debt."
Arslan's smile held a touch of bitterness as he took another sip from his soda, considering James's proposition. "You know very well that I want nothing to do with you or your people," he replied, his voice tinged with a hint of resentment toward them. "If it weren't for my parents' debt to you, we wouldn't be having this conversation right now."
James raised his hand, signaling his two men to hold back their aggression as they didn't seem to like what Arslan was saying. "You hold a strong contempt for us, yet it was our money that prevented your ass from living on the streets," James retorted, his tone firm.
Arslan's gaze hardened, and his voice was filled with sadness as he spoke the painful truth. "And if it weren't for your money, my parents would still be alive today," he retorted, his words heavy with the weight of loss. James hesitated at the door, pausing to face Arslan, who remained seated on his bed, thinking about the choices that had led him to this point.
"We can play the blame game all night, but no one forced them to brag about their money in this neighborhood. They should have remained silent, minding their own business," James remarked, his voice laced with a mix of accusation and justification.
Arslan sighed, the weight of guilt and regret settling upon him. He knew deep down that James's words held a painful truth. If only his parents had chosen to stay quiet about the cash they took, and chosen to open that restaurant they wanted quietly, they wouldn't have been robbed and killed only three days after taking that loan.
The loan they had taken from the Moyah Family had led to their tragic deaths, a burden Arslan carried within him every day.
"See you next week, Young Lion" James bid his farewell to Arslan before he and his men exited the apartment, leaving Arslan alone at that apartment.
As the door closed, the room fell into a heavy silence, broken only by the sound of Arslan's last sip from his soda. Exhausted from the encounter, he lowered himself onto his bed as he stared at the blank wall before him.
Lying on his back, Arslan's thoughts drifted, his eyes tracing the patterns on the ceiling. His hand slowly rose in front of him, his attention drawn to the faint green glow emanating from his palm.
"No matter how many times I see this shit, I still can't wrap my head around this power," he murmured softly to himself. Slowly, he pressed his glowing hand against his bruises as He felt a comforting warmth spread through him as the healing energy did its thing.
In a matter of moments, the bruises started to fade away, as if they had never existed. The green light vanished from his hand, and he was left feeling quietly amazed. "I still don't get where this power came from," Arslan thought, remembering the terrible day a year ago when his parents died.
It was then that the translucent window appeared before him, looking similler to the video games he used to immerse himself in. Within it, he found a display of information, revealing his stats and other things that he found to be very useful.
At first, Arslan had questioned his sanity, believing the window to be a mere hallucination caused by his grief over his parents. However, as days turned into weeks, he began to embrace the possibilities it presented, realizing that he held the power to alter the trajectory of his life.
Having healed his bruises, Arslan felt a surge of determination. With a flick of his wrist, he summoned the status window, eager to see the progress he had made since the last time he took a look at it.
=[Status]=
[Name: Arslan]
[Job: Underground Fighter]
[Level: 6]
[EXP: 1020 - 1920]
[Mana:288/288]
[Strength: 15]
[Stamina: 14]
[Agility: 19]
[Intelligence: 18]
[Luck: 4]
[reputation:12]
[Unused Stats Points: 0]
=[Skills 3 of 3]=
[Kickboxing: Passive - Lvl: 3]
[You learned the fundamental for KickBoxing, you're able to perform the basic skills easily]
[Full Power: Active - Lvl: 4]
[This Skill allow you to double your attack's power for the next 2 Minutes]
[Cooldown: 1 Hour]
[Healing Hands: Active - Lvl: 7]
[This Skill Allow you to heal wounds and Injuries]
[Cooldown: 5 minutes]
Arslan's sighed as he looked at his stats and skills, disappointment covering his expression. Despite the long time he had spent trying to earn more EXP, he found no significant changes, except for the gradual accumulation of experience points required for leveling up, and his reputation that has increased by 3 after defeating Voragor.
'This is gonna take forever,' he thought, realizing he had a long way to go. Leveling up, improving his stats, and getting more skill slots meant tons of challenges.
Arslan dismissed the status window, its glow fading into the darkness as exhaustion seeped into his bones. He wrapped himself in a warm blanket, seeking comfort in the embrace of sleep, knowing that rest was essential for the day that awaited him.