A long line formed in front of a large tent run by a private social service. Volunteers were busy handing out free meals to the homeless.
Among the volunteers was a young girl with long, dark brown hair tied neatly. Tall and graceful, with a warm, gentle smile. Her name was Ellice.
When Valz's turn came, Ellice froze. Her eyes lingered on him far too long, and her cheeks flushed red.
Valz raised an eyebrow. "What? Do I have dirt on my face? Or… is the food already gone?"
He glanced at the table. Plates of food were still stacked high.
Ellice jolted. "N-no! I'm sorry, the food's still here!" Then, trying to cover her embarrassment, she joked, "I thought you were one of the volunteers. Didn't expect you to be in line."
Valz simply accepted the plate, gave a small nod, and walked away without another word. Ellice stayed frozen, realizing she was still holding the spoon in the air as his back disappeared into the crowd.
By the afternoon, Valz arrived at an underground arena. The roar of the crowd thundered through the heavy iron doors.
Every fighter was required to wear a mask. Valz pulled on a plain black one.
The arena was packed, the crowd wild with bets and shouts. His opponent was already inside—a massive man with bulging muscles, his body sparking with crackling electricity. His nickname was already infamous here: "Thunder Fang."
The crowd howled.
"My money's on Thunder Fang!"
"That black mask kid's just another sacrifice!"
Among the audience sat a mysterious girl. Dark blue hair shimmered faintly under the arena lights, her body tall and well-proportioned, around 170 cm. A small mask covered her face, but her sharp eyes were fixed on the stage.
As Valz stepped in, she leaned forward, her lips parting slightly, her gaze locked on him with fascination.
The bell rang. Thunder Fang charged in instantly, fists crackling with lightning as he smashed the ground. Sparks flew everywhere, and the crowd roared.
Valz stayed calm. His body glowed with a faint blue light. A small buff—weak at first, but he stacked it over and over. His speed sharpened, his reflexes grew precise.
Thunder Fang's strikes kept missing.
The blue-haired girl's eyes widened, unable to look away.
"His movements… they're different. He's no ordinary fighter."
Then came the opening. Valz stepped forward, landing a single clean punch to the jaw. Simple, precise.
Thunder Fang collapsed instantly, unconscious.
The arena fell silent for a heartbeat—then erupted in chaos.
"The Shade! That kid took down Thunder Fang!"
"Super rookie! I lost my bet, but damn that was insane!"
The blue-haired girl stood up from her seat, her voice clear over the crowd.
"Your fight… was incredible!"
Valz only turned his head slightly in her direction, then walked off the stage without a word.
Behind the arena, a heavyset man in a shabby suit—one of the arena's managers—greeted him with a wide grin.
"Hahaha! Black mask kid, you made me a fortune today! Everyone bet on Thunder Fang, and you crushed them!"
He shoved a thick envelope into Valz's hand, stuffed with greenish paper bills.
"Here—3000 zen. More than enough for a kid like you."
Valz opened it, flipping through the bills quickly.
"…Probably enough for rent and food for a month."
The manager slapped his shoulder. "You'd better come back, kid. The crowd loves you already. The Shade could be a star here!"
Valz looked at him blankly. "…We'll see."
Without another word, he walked away, ignoring the manager's shouts behind him.
That night, Valz searched for a place to stay. Almost every landlord turned him away—he didn't have an adult ID, only a child's card.
Finally, he found a rundown apartment. The landlord, a middle-aged man with a thick mustache, sat lazily on a plastic chair.
"You want a room? Got an adult ID?"
"No."
"Parents?"
"Dead."
The man sighed. "If I let you in, and you skip out on rent, I'm screwed."
Valz turned toward the door. "If it's a problem, I'll leave."
The man quickly stood up. "Whoa, hold on! Don't be so hasty. Business is dead, no tenants anyway. If you can pay, I'll turn a blind eye."
Valz stared at him flatly. "If rats run across the room, you turn a blind eye too?"
The landlord burst out laughing. "Hahaha! You're sharp, kid. Fine, take the room. If the bed breaks, just count it as free exercise."
Valz gave a quiet sigh. "…Whatever."
The room was tiny, a single space with an old creaky bed, a corner for cooking, and a cramped bathroom. Worn down, but far better than the orphanage.
Valz sat down; the bed groaned loudly. He leaned back, eyes on the ceiling. For the first time in years, he had a place of his own.
"…Not bad," he muttered.