The Next Day
The sun had already climbed high into the sky, its golden rays spilling across Simon's bedroom floor. The time was nearing 11 AM.
For the first time in the ten months since Simon had been transferred to this world, he had slept in. Until now, every night had been plagued by a sense of constant danger and urgency. Sleep had often been replaced by grueling training sessions, as his mind never truly rested. Fatigue had become his companion, a silent shadow that clung to him.
Even though training gave him some form of discipline and control, it could never substitute for real rest. And yesterday's battle... that fight had drained him—not just physically, but emotionally. He had pushed himself harder than ever, and now, for the first time in a long while, his body had forced him to stop.
Lying in bed, Simon turned his head to the side and gazed out the window. From his room, he could see a breathtaking view of Riverstone City, a blend of urban structure and wild terrain. But in the distance, thin pillars of smoke still rose into the sky. Debris dotted the outer perimeter of the base, and even from here, he could still sense the echo of the chaos that had unfolded just yesterday.
The memories flooded back—flames, blood, the bone-chilling screech of Ghostho, the broken wall, and the scorched corpses. The scent of burnt flesh and iron still lingered faintly in the air, carried by a breeze he couldn't shut out.
Simon closed his eyes for a moment, trying to ground himself.
Then, his phone rang.
Still lying on his back, he grabbed it from the bedside table and glanced at the screen.
Ivan.
Simon answered, bringing the phone to his ear.
Before he could speak, Ivan's voice came barreling through the line, fast and energetic. "Simon, are you free today? Can we meet?"
Simon was just about to reply when another call popped up—this time from an unknown number.
Frowning slightly, he said, "Ivan, hold on a second," and placed the call on hold. He accepted the new call and brought the phone back up.
"Hello, Simon here."
The voice on the other end was calm and professional, but carried a respectful tone. "Good morning, Sir Simon. I'm Lieutenant Arven, serving under Commander Kael. I've been instructed to contact you regarding the dinner invitation the Commander extended yesterday. He wishes to confirm if you would be available to join him this evening."
Simon blinked, then slowly sat up in bed as he recalled the offer Kael had made after the battle.
A short pause followed before Simon responded, "Yes... I remember. I'd be honored to attend."
As he spoke, he glanced at the screen, noticing that Ivan's call was still on hold. An idea sparked.
"Lieutenant Arven," Simon added, "would it be alright if I brought someone with me? A friend."
There was a brief silence on the line, followed by a composed reply. "That would be perfectly fine, sir. The Commander would welcome it. I'll make note of it and send you the location and time shortly."
"Thank you," Simon said sincerely.
"It's our pleasure. We'll see you tonight."
As the call ended, Simon switched back to Ivan's line.
"Still there?" he asked.
"Yeah," Ivan responded.
"Let's meet tonight. I'll send you the location."
"Perfect."
As they were about to hang up, Simon added with a smirk, "And Ivan? Wear something nice."
Then he ended the call.
Simon dropped his phone onto the bed, planning to lie back down—but his stomach growled loudly, snapping him back to reality. He hadn't eaten since before the battle, and now, after resting, his body was screaming for sustenance.
If he ignored it, his body would likely start burning through his muscle next.
He rushed out of the room and into the kitchen.
With practiced precision and supernatural speed, Simon began cooking—slicing, grilling, roasting—and just as fast, he began devouring it all. Meat after meat, plate after plate. His body was a furnace, and food was its fuel.
The smell of seasoned roast and sizzling fat filled the house. Olivia, his younger sister, peeked out of her room, lured by the irresistible aroma. What she found in the kitchen, however, left her stunned.
Simon was eating with a focus and speed she'd never seen before. As soon as the meat hit the plate, it was gone—50 pounds, 60, 70, and still climbing.
Matthew soon joined her, descending the stairs after catching the overwhelming scent. Both father and daughter stood in stunned silence, watching Simon devour plate after plate. The kitchen looked like a warzone—pots boiling, grills sizzling, and Simon moving with the rhythm of a man possessed.
When the tally reached 100 pounds, Simon finally leaned back with a loud burp, rubbing his stomach with satisfaction. Only then did he notice Olivia and Matthew standing there.
He looked up. "You didn't go to school today?" he asked Olivia casually.
She didn't answer his question. Instead, she stepped forward with wide, suspicious eyes and asked, "Brother… are you even human?"
Simon blinked. "I am human. What do you think I am?"
Olivia folded her arms. "You just ate the equivalent of three hundred people's meals in one sitting! That's not human. That's something else entirely."
Simon chuckled, running a hand through his hair and glancing at the mountain of bones and scraps. "I was hungry. Yesterday took a lot out of me."
"No kidding," she said, nudging a tray with her foot. "I thought a Dreadbeast had broken in."
Matthew stepped into the light, his expression a blend of concern and curiosity. "I knew Astral Lords burned a lot of energy, especially after combat," he said thoughtfully. "But this… this is excessive. Simon, are you sure you're not part Dreadbeast?"
Simon gave a sheepish grin. "Dad, don't start with her theories now."
Matthew raised a brow. "Son, even among Astral Lords, this much is unprecedented. You might want to get checked. Or at least... give us a heads-up before raiding the fridge."
"I didn't even realize how hungry I was until I started," Simon admitted not wanting to talk about his skill and abilities.
Olivia sighed dramatically. "Great. We'll need to file a requisition to restock the kitchen for the next month."
Matthew looked at his son with pride and a touch of amusement. "Still… how are you feeling now? After everything."
Simon glanced out the window again. The smoke was thinner now. "Tired… but better. That battle reminded me why I do this. Why I fight."
Matthew nodded. "You did good, Simon. I read the news. The city's still standing because of you. We're proud."
Simon met his father's eyes and gave a quiet, understanding nod.
Olivia broke the moment. "But if you keep eating like that, you're banned from my snack drawer."
Simon laughed and ruffled her hair as he passed. "Fine. But keep out of my way when I'm cooking, or you might end up on the plate."
She yelped and shoved him playfully. "Not funny!"
Matthew chuckled from behind. For the first time in months, peace had returned to the household. A quiet moment. A shared breakfast—well, more like a feast. And for just a little while, they were a family again.
"Don't forget to get some rest," Matthew called after him.
"Yeah, i did rest a lot, I have something to do at the company" Simon said as he put on his clean shirt and jacket as he walked out.