Central Park's air slammed into Cain. Exhaust fumes mingled with wet grass, ozone threading through both. The sweetest perfume he'd encountered. He walked the paved path wearing tattered clothes from the crash and wolf fight. Looking like some particularly intense homeless man.
Empty pockets. No wallet, no phone and nothing proving he existed.
"I am a god." Cain kicked a soda can. "Broke, though."
He needed a plan. The World's Will had locked his power behind the Three Iron Doors. Opening them required "Tribute." Souls of enemies, back in the Hollows. Here the System called it "Experience Points." XP.
Kill things. Lots of things.
"Kiiiek!"
A shrill scream tore through the night. From a clearing, maybe two hundred meters east.
Cain stopped. Ears twitched.
"Human. Female. High pitch—genuine terror."
Stories he'd read before exile always featured the Hero rushing to save the damsel. Driven by justice, righteousness, all that. Cain felt nothing resembling those impulses. Woman dies? Natural selection at work. The weak fed the strong. Hollows law.
Then a thought occurred.
Pizza places. Where were they? No money either. Modern society navigation seemed complicated.
A local guide. Minion, really.
"Investment." Cain muttered. "Violence traded for information."
He activated remnants of his agility. Didn't run—glided. Footsteps making zero sound on pavement.
The clearing revealed a woman backed against a large oak. Nurse's uniform, handbag clutched to her chest like some shield. Terrified brown eyes. Messy blonde hair.
Six creatures surrounded her. Small, green-skinned. Long noses, jagged yellow teeth. Rusted shanks and crude clubs.
[Monster Detected: Goblin (Rank F)]
"Goblins." Cain scoffed quietly from shadows. "Multiverse cockroaches. They exist everywhere."
"Stay back!" The woman swung her bag. "I have pepper spray! I mean it!"
"Kekeke!" The lead goblin laughed—sounded like scratching glass. It lunged, slashing her legs.
"Ah!" She collapsed. Clutched her calf. Blood seeped between fingers.
The goblins swarmed. Sadistic little things, eager for flesh.
Cain stepped from shadows. No announcement. Didn't shout "Halt, evildoers!" or anything theatrical. Just arrived.
He grabbed the rearmost goblin by its skull.
"Excuse me," Cain said politely.
*Crunch.*
He squeezed. The goblin's head collapsed inward like rotten melon. Black blood spraying onto his hand.
Five goblins froze. Turned. Saw a man in tattered clothes with eyes resembling dead stars.
"You are interrupting my dinner time."
"Kiii!" Two goblins shrieked. Leaped.
Cain stepped forward instead of retreating. His movements were economical. Zero wasted energy. He swatted the first goblin from the air with the back of his hand, infusing a pulse of Null-Ether. The goblin flew into a tree. Dissolved into dust on impact.
The second goblin stabbed at his stomach. Cain caught the rusted blade between thumb and forefinger.
"Rusted iron. Tetanus risk."
He twisted his wrist. The blade snapped. Same motion drove the broken shard into the goblin's eye.
[Critical Hit.]
Three down. Three remaining.
Sarah White watched in stunned silence. She'd expected death. Got massacre instead. The man moved like a dancer. Every step ended a life. Not frantic, though. Bored.
The remaining goblins realized they were outmatched. Turned to flee.
"No. You are XP."
He picked up a stone. Infused it with trace gray energy. Threw it.
*Thwack.*
The stone pierced the fleeing goblin's skull. Like a bullet.
Another stone. *Thwack.* Another kill.
The last goblin scrambled into bushes. Cain extended his hand.
"Rite of Grasp."
A faint gray hand materialized. Seized the goblin's ankle. Dragged the screaming creature back to Cain's feet.
Cain looked down. "Where is the boss?" Pure habit from the Hollows.
The goblin just shrieked.
"Useless." He stomped on its neck.
[Combat Ended.]
[Level Up! Current Level: 4]
Silence returned. Only the woman's ragged breathing remained.
Cain turned. Didn't ask if she was okay, didn't offer help. Loomed over her, covered in goblin blood and dust. A nightmare escaped from its cage.
Sarah trembled. "P-Please don't hurt me. Take my purse. It's all I have."
Cain looked at the purse. "Does it contain pepperoni?"
"What?" Sarah blinked. Tears pausing in confusion. "Pepperoni?"
"Pizza." Cain's voice was intense. "I saved your life. By ancient laws of Life Debt, you owe me. I require directions to the nearest establishment selling pizza. Preferably one using real mozzarella."
Sarah stared. This man just slaughtered six monsters with bare hands. Now talking about cheese?
"I live nearby." Sarah stammered. "I can make you food? No pizza, but I have pasta?"
Cain's eyes widened. "Pasta."
He grabbed her hand. Pulled her to her feet effortlessly. Ignored her wince from the injured leg.
"Pasta is acceptable. Carbohydrates are essential. Lead the way, minion. If you cook well, I will allow you to live under my protection."
"Minion?" Sarah whispered. Too afraid to correct him.
"My name is Cain." He dusted off his hands. "Let us make haste. My stomach is making sounds frightening the local wildlife."
Sarah limped forward, leg throbbing. This man—this creature—had just saved her life. Maybe. Or maybe she'd just traded six monsters for one worse monster. Either way, she was leading him to her apartment.
What choice did she have?
Cain followed three steps behind. Eyes scanning the darkness. Calculating. The goblins were F-Rank. Pathetic. He needed stronger prey. The Three Iron Doors wouldn't open themselves.
But first—pasta.
His stomach growled again. Louder this time.
Sarah flinched at the sound.
"Apologies," Cain said. "The growling. It has been several centuries since my last meal."
"Centuries?" Sarah's voice cracked.
"Figure of speech." Cain lied smoothly. "I am very hungry."
They walked through the park. Past lampposts casting yellow light. Past benches where homeless people slept. Past joggers who didn't notice the blood-covered man and limping nurse.
New York. City of millions. Everyone minding their own business.
Perfect hunting ground.
Cain smiled. Not a warm smile. A predator's smile.
The First Door would open soon. Then the Second. Then the Third.
And when all Three Iron Doors stood open, when his full power returned—
Well.
The world would remember why they'd exiled him in the first place.
But first, pasta.
Always pasta.