"Are you crazy? You want to steal my goods?"
Kevin's punch flew out, and the tall, thin man reacted quickly. The instant Kevin charged, confusion flickered across the man's face, but he still instinctively raised his arms to block the blow.
Since the attack had begun, there was no reason to stop.
Kevin wasn't exactly a trained fighter, but he had experience with brawling. Taking advantage of the surprise, he unleashed punches and kicks in rapid succession. With the training he'd undergone these past few days, the surging ki flowed to each point of impact, bursting forth with far greater force than his physique alone should have allowed.
The tall, thin man did his best to defend, but a solid punch still slammed into his shoulder. He staggered back several steps, using the impact to retreat, his eyes locked onto Kevin.
"You bastard, are you looking down on me? Don't think you're the only one who can use this power—I've learned it too! Die!"
Kevin tilted his head aside, narrowly dodging a straight punch. The man's fist scraped the edge of the shelf, knocking two cans of engine oil crashing to the floor.
His retreating steps smeared oil across the concrete, sweat soaking through his black work pants as the overhead lights gleamed off them.
Had he misjudged?
The moment Kevin lunged, he had assessed the man's possible strength. The original owner of this body had been sickly, more like a lab-obsessed bookworm than someone capable of intimidation—aside from his gloomy expression. And yet the man before him, since arriving, had acted as though Kevin was above him. Not fearful—more like… inferior.
That behavior alone convinced Kevin the man's strength had originally been lower than his own.
And the man's crimes were utterly unacceptable.
If Kevin had been selfish, he could have pretended he saw nothing and simply waited for the man to leave. Calling the police was impossible—he wasn't innocent either. So fighting, subduing, and restraining the man was the best choice.
Thus, once he judged the situation, he acted.
Even while thinking, his body moved on muscle memory. He dodged another strike and drove a hook into the man's ribs. A dull crack sounded, and the tall, thin man staggered, crashing into the minivan's side door. The anti-theft alarm erupted in a shrill wail, slicing through the rainy night.
A misjudgment… but not entirely.
From the man's own words, he'd only just learned to control this so-called ki—practically a beginner. Maybe even at the same stage as Kevin. But Kevin's body had muscle memory on its side, giving him a much more stable foundation.
Through the metallic scent of rust and the man's ragged breathing, Kevin noticed his right hand sliding toward the gap in the car door—toward the magnetic box that hid the spare key.
Then, with his other hand, the man swung an oil-stained wrench in a sweeping arc.
Kevin ducked just in time. The metal smashed into the shelf with a harsh clatter.
Behind them, the girls whimpered in terror. If their mouths hadn't been gagged, they would have screamed long ago. Only the blonde twin-tailed loli—tied up and outside the van—watched the fight with something closer to disdain. She even looked like she wanted to say something, but in the end, held back.
The tall, thin man suddenly spun around, lashing out with his left leg like a whip. The kick slammed into the shelf behind Kevin, shattering the already unstable structure and sending tools and containers cascading down.
Kevin rolled aside, dodging the falling items. His lower back slammed against the edge of the lift platform, pain shooting up his spine.
The tall, thin man, bruised and desperate, didn't follow up with another attack. Instead, he bolted toward the driver's seat.
He yanked the door open. His blood-smeared fingertips were only half a palm away from the storage compartment.
There should be a weapon there—most likely a gun.
The thought flashed through Kevin's mind.
It's about to end.
He had already anticipated that his opponent might be armed. The reason the man had chosen to fight using ki and close combat first… was probably because he wanted to show off. And Kevin had wanted to test the progress of his own ki control.
He responded in the same way.
But now, there was no need.
"Don't move! One more move and I'll shoot!"
A cold command cut through the noise, and a gun muzzle pressed against the man's back. His right hand froze five centimeters from the drawer—inside which a black gun barrel gleamed faintly through the small gap.
Outside, rain hammered the roller shutter with a deafening roar, blending with the two men's heavy breaths. The entire garage fell silent.
Even the girls stopped whimpering.
"Calm down, calm down, Kevin. At worst, I'll give you this batch of goods."
The tall, thin man slowly raised his hands and eased his upper body away from the car, unease twisting his expression as he glanced nervously at Kevin and the gun aimed at him.
"If you want these goods, just say it. We're brothers—how could I not give it to you? So, can you put the gun down? Be careful… you don't want it going off by accident."
He wore a stiff, ingratiating smile.
Kevin didn't respond.
He simply held the gun, mind turning coldly.
Should he kill him?
It was, without doubt, the most reasonable option.
This man clearly knew the crimes tied to this body—more than that, he was an accomplice. Facing a trafficker like him, Kevin could not justify letting him live. Not even out of selfishness.
Human traffickers deserved only one end.
And if he tied the man up and handed him to the police, he would expose his own involvement. The information he found online couldn't tell him whether he might be hunted internationally. He'd seen many wanted bulletins—transnational crimes handled by specialized forces.
Coming from a peaceful country, he couldn't accept unexplained warrants hanging over his head, even if the crimes weren't truly his.
Kill him.
Call the police.
Leave this country immediately.
He had already prepared for that. This world was fortunate—most major countries, especially V5, used the same language and script. And he had no real sense of belonging anyway.
"Damn it—! I'll fight you to the death!"
The tall, thin man suddenly roared.
Years in the underworld had sharpened his instincts—he could sense Kevin's killing intent as clearly as fire at his back. Faced with impending death, he chose the only option: fight for his life.
His ki flared violently. Kevin felt the surge like a shock. The burst granted him explosive speed; he lunged forward, ramming into Kevin before he could react.
At the sudden impact, Kevin's instincts kicked in. He drove his elbow down hard.
The strike forced a scream from the tall, thin man.
Yet survival instinct fueled him—he clung on desperately, shoving Kevin backward until Kevin slammed into the metal shelves.
Pain shot through his back. He grit his teeth and responded with downward elbow strikes and rising knee blows. His ki-strengthened body made every hit heavier, sharper, more destructive.
With each impact, the man's strength disintegrated. He spat blood, collapsing to the ground and losing consciousness.
"Phew… just like a damn gang fight," Kevin muttered between breaths. "I should really find a martial arts teacher or something later… learn real combat."
He quickly tied the unconscious man.
When he turned, the girls were staring at him—terrified.
Only the blonde twin-tailed girl had freed herself. She watched him with wary, calculating eyes.
Kevin knelt, grabbed the man's phone, and tossed it to her.
"Call the police. They'll rescue you."
Without another word, he returned to his room and packed the luggage he'd prepared in advance. In less than five minutes, he was ready to flee.
He took one last look at the garage, hesitated, then gritted his teeth and walked back inside.
His sudden return made the girls flinch, panic flooding their faces. But Kevin didn't spare them a glance. He went straight to the bound tall, thin man.
"For scum like this… death is the best punishment. It's fine…"
He muttered this under his breath—more to steady himself than anything—then raised the gun.
"Hmph."
"Bang!"
Ignoring the girls' screams, Kevin hurried out, forcefully suppressing his wildly beating heart.
He had killed someone.
But the disgust he had expected did not come. Only tension. Panic. And a cold, trembling awareness.
He reached the dark alley where a vehicle waited and drove off.
Hidden in the shadows, a young man adjusted his glasses as he watched the taillights fade.
"What is Master doing…? Why did he let him go?" he murmured.
In the distance, police sirens grew louder.