Thanks to his "Demonic Physique," Mike wasn't exactly an ordinary guy anymore. That memory-eraser device the men in black used? It didn't wipe his recollections from tonight.
After witnessing the black-suited organization in action, a few things finally clicked for him.
Mike had specifically looked up any follow-up on the Jennifer incident back in that Minnesota small town. But nothing—zero mentions on TV or in the newspapers.
Chances are, the church and those black-clothes guys had locked down the info, keeping regular folks in the dark about supernatural stuff.
In a way, it was protection for everyday people.
For Mike, that was actually a win. With his new [Moonlight] trait, he wasn't ready to dive into the extraordinary world just yet.
As a so-called "normal guy," the smart play was to lay low and level up quietly.
And man, that Moonlight trait was no joke. After soaking up the moon for a bit, Mike could feel his stamina—drained from that fight with Serena—pretty much fully recovered.
On top of that, under the moonlight, every part of his body felt sharper, more responsive.
Feeling zero baggage, Mike stretched out, then jogged all the way back to Grandma Connie's house.
Grandma Connie, with her door shut tight, had no clue Mike had slipped out tonight—or that he'd been in real danger.
Mike didn't wake her. He quietly headed to his room in the dark, then pulled open the curtains.
Sure enough, as long as moonlight poured in, he could reap the benefits of that trait.
Before crashing, he checked his Constitution stat: 162.
...
The next morning, as the first rays of sunlight hit the window, Mike's eyes snapped open.
He checked his Constitution again—and it was up to 165.
In just one night, the Moonlight trait had bumped it by three points.
That discovery had him grinning like crazy.
If this kept up, in less than a year, he'd be a mini-Superman.
But then he thought about it: maybe the gains were so big early on because his base stats were still low. Once his Constitution climbed higher, the boosts from Moonlight might slow down.
He'd have to figure that out over time.
Down in the kitchen, Grandma Connie had whipped up a huge breakfast spread.
Today was the day Medford High's football team advanced to the third round of the playoffs—a big deal for their little town of Derford.
The school had never made it this far before. Usually, they got knocked out in the first or second round.
So to cheer the team on and keep the streak alive, Grandma Connie was definitely heading to the game.
Sure enough, after breakfast, she walked out the door with Mike.
Right on cue, Coach George from across the street came out with little George and little Sheldon.
Little George was buzzing with energy today, strutting like he owned the sidewalk. As the team's receiver, with the squad doing so well, he felt like his status at home had shot up too.
After everyone said hey, Mike hopped into Grandma Connie's car for once—a rare ride to school.
As game time neared, the school field was already packed. Not just students from every grade, but tons of locals too.
Quick head count? Easily over two thousand people. And once kickoff hit, it'd probably be even more.
In the crowd, Mike spotted local reporter Jack waving at him.
Behind Jack stood an intern holding a massive banner poster.
Jack had ridden Mike's wave a bit—his status at the station had clearly gone up.
Now he even had a little sidekick.
Since they had a side hustle going (selling photos), Mike grinned and waved back.
With Mike's standout performances in the first two games—and even making the local sports channel—he was kinda a mini-celebrity around town now.
You could see it coming: if the team kept winning in this third round...
Mike's fame would blow up even more, and his photo-selling gig with Jack would just keep booming.
Maybe down the line, it wouldn't just be high school girls buying his pics.
Daydreaming about that bright future, Mike headed to the locker room with little George.
They hadn't gone far when he spotted big-waved Karen in the corner, frantically waving him over.
Seeing that, little George shot him an envious look for a second, then smartly peeled off toward the locker room alone.
"What's up, Karen?" Mike asked, stopping just outside the corner.
Karen was in her cheerleader skirt, looking as gorgeous as ever. She glanced around first, then said quickly, "Mike, heads up for today's game—Regina rallied the whole cheer squad and told them not to cheer for you. Just be ready for it."
On the field, a lot of athletes feed off the vibe. Hot girls hyping you up? It can push you to play harder.
Regina had zeroed in on that for her revenge.
Gotta hand it to the queen bee—she had a little scheme going. Not much of one, though.
Mike's mental age wasn't some 15- or 16-year-old kid. This level of pettiness? He couldn't care less.
"Thanks for the heads-up," he said with a smile, genuinely thanking the girl who'd tipped him off.
"You got this, Mike~" Karen pumped her fist in encouragement. "No matter what, I'm rooting for you."
As she said it, her eyes hardened with determination.
Deep down, her frustration with the queen bee was starting to outweigh her fear.
After chatting with Karen a bit more, Mike headed back toward the football locker room.
But at the corner in the hallway, he ran into Katie.
She was in her cheer uniform too, makeup on point.
Compared to a few weeks ago, she'd leveled up big time—in looks, style, and the confidence she carried.
Spotting Mike, her eyes lit up. "Mike, be careful—Regina, she..."
Before she could finish, Mike jumped in: "She told you guys not to cheer for me?"
"How'd you know?" Katie looked shocked.
Mike just smiled, no explanation needed. "I already heard. But thanks anyway."
Hearing his thanks made Katie's heart flutter a little. Then she added, "Don't worry, Mike—I'm always on your side.
"And a bunch of the cheerleaders don't get why Regina's doing this."
Clearly, the queen bee had made a dumb move this time, putting herself against the other girls.
From how Karen and Katie were acting, Regina's grip on the squad wasn't what it used to be.
After saying bye to Katie, Mike stepped through the locker room door.
The second the guys inside saw him, they lit up—super welcoming, parting like the Red Sea to let him through.
All thanks to his killer performances in the first two games. He'd earned their respect.
Now? He was quietly becoming the unofficial boss of the locker room.