"Letty, can I stay with you for a few days?"
When Letty arrived home, she found Mia waiting on her doorstep.
As a woman who had long since explored the mysteries of intimacy with her boyfriend, Letty recognized the change in Mia instantly.
The way she walked, the way she held herself... Mia had crossed a threshold.
Letty knew exactly how protective Dom was of his little sister. Dom wasn't good with emotions, but his obsession with keeping Mia "in the family" bordered on paranoia. That was why he let Vince harass her for years—he wanted Mia to marry someone he could control.
Letty sympathized with Mia. She was Dom's childhood sweetheart, and she had grown up with Vince too. While she found Vince crude, he was still "family."
But now? Mia had clearly been taken by an outsider. And based on Mia's recent behavior, that outsider was likely the young Asian mechanic from the garage.
Just thinking about how Dom and Vince would react made Letty's scalp tingle.
"Mia, you can stay as long as you want," Letty said, her voice serious.
"But I have to tell Dom you're here."
"You know how worried he gets. If I hide you, he'll tear the city apart."
"And whoever that kid is..."
"He's in big trouble."
Letty's heart softened at Mia's pitiful expression, but she couldn't lie to Dom. She knew Dom would explode; the only question was how big the explosion would be.
Mia opened her mouth to plead for Hunter, but stopped.
She had hung up on Dom multiple times yesterday. In her delirious state last night, she had even smashed her phone. Dom probably thought Hunter had forced her phone off to keep her out all night.
An apology wasn't going to fix this.
Even Letty wouldn't defend him.
Mia felt helpless. She was, after all, just an eighteen-year-old girl who had dropped out of school. She didn't know how to handle a war between the men in her life.
Meanwhile, at a local boxing gym.
Hunter, wearing gloves, was throwing punches under the guidance of a retired pro boxer.
He had long suspected that combat sports—Boxing, MMA, Sanda—would trigger new skills. But he hadn't confirmed how until now.
Money was the answer.
Hunter hired a former pro named Eddie for $200 an hour to be his personal coach.
The moment he put on the gloves and threw his first jab...
The familiar mechanical voice chimed in his head.
[Ding! Boxing Skill Generated.]
Thud!
Thud!
Thud-thud!
Following Eddie's instructions, Hunter moved with light, choppy steps, throwing heavy combinations into the sandbag.
Eddie watched, genuinely impressed.
"Kid, I admit I underestimated you," Eddie said, wiping sweat from his brow. "When I saw your frame, I thought you were just some rich kid looking to burn cash or vent anger."
"I didn't expect you to have this kind of power inside that skinny body."
"You're a natural. Ever thought about going pro?"
Hunter was the same height as Eddie (6'0"), but their builds were different.
Eddie was a tank—muscles built specifically for the ring, weighing in at over 240 lbs (110 kg).
Hunter, despite his height, weighed only about 180 lbs (82 kg).
To Eddie, Hunter looked like a beanpole.
Hunter just smiled and shook his head.
He looked lean, but his muscles were dense, refined by the System's balanced stat growth. Dom was heavier, sure, but Hunter doubted Eddie or Dom could match his flexibility or stamina.
"No thanks," Hunter said, regulating his breathing as he hammered the bag. "Just here to get fit."
"With my build, I wouldn't last a round in the ring."
He gestured self-deprecatingly at their size difference.
Eddie laughed, his vanity stroked. He had no idea that in just three hours of coaching, the young man in front of him had already leveled his Boxing skill to Lv 1 and was rapidly climbing toward Lv 2.
A few hours later.
Hunter stood in a private shower stall at a shooting range, washing away the sweat and gunpowder residue.
If anyone had walked in, they would have gasped. His naked body was a masterpiece of functional muscle—every fiber defined, perfectly symmetrical.
"Phew."
He wiped water from his face with a towel.
Earlier, with the help of a professional shooting instructor, he had spent four hours firing over 700 rounds at 10m, 20m, and 50m targets.
The result?
Marksmanship Lv 3.
Just as he thought: Money accelerated growth.
Hiring professional coaches and burning through ammo drastically cut down the grind time.
Unfortunately, the $20,000 he got from Parker was nearly gone. Between the boxing lessons, the shooting range fees, and the ammo, he was down to his last $3,000.
"Money really is the ultimate cheat code," Hunter mused.
"I need to find a way to make more. Fast."
He dressed quickly. He didn't want to get pulled over smelling like a gunpowder factory. A shower was mandatory.
Refreshed and armed with a new level of lethality, Hunter rode his motorcycle back to his apartment.
He pulled into the parking lot and killed the engine.
Before he could even take his helmet off...
"HEY! STOP RIGHT THERE!"
A roar echoed through the lot.
Hunter looked up.
Charging toward him from the apartment entrance was a massive white man in a sleeveless shirt, muscles bulging and face twisted in rage.
It was Vince.
Read ahead with 70+ chapters now with daily updates!
@patreon.com/Authorizz