The roar of engines shattered the quiet street as more than a dozen motorcycles barreled toward him, their riders bristling with hostility and menace. Any sane person would have turned and fled. Glen Johnson didn't retreat. Instead, he planted his foot hard against the pavement and launched himself forward, hurtling directly toward the lead bikes in a reckless charge that defied all logic.The thugs hadn't expected this. They'd anticipated fear, maybe desperate pleading. What they got instead felt like a slap to their pride. Snarling with rage and wounded ego, they raised their steel rods high overhead and swung wildly at Glen as he closed the distance, their weapons slicing through the air in vicious arcs meant to crack bone and split skin.Glen was already airborne, caught mid-leap with nowhere to dodge. The odds looked grim. But the Basic Boxing Technique skill book he'd absorbed wasn't just about throwing punches. It had taught him timing, leverage, and how to read an

Glen Johnson saw the blades coming at him. His eyes flickered with brief hesitation before he suddenly roared, swinging the steel rod in his hand with ferocious force. He swept it toward the two men in front of him, no longer caring whether he'd break their arms or worse. There wasn't time to worry about consequences anymore. The choice had been forced on him by the flash of steel and the intent in their faces. They had come prepared to maim him, and he could not keep protecting their safety at the cost of his own.At the same time, he sidestepped, dodging another knife. But the last Blade was impossible to avoid. Glen gritted his teeth and ducked slightly, letting his shoulder take the blow aimed at his heart.A strange tearing sound cut through the air, like metal scraping across glass. It made his ears itch and his scalp crawl.The black-vest thug who'd just landed the hit stared in shock. The knife had struck something that felt like flexible steel plating. It bro

"Why didn't you just ask me for money? You know they've been watching you. Walking out of the diner on foot like that, something was bound to go wrong." Wendy Cross was already digging through her purse as she spoke. She pulled out a stack of bills and held them out to Glen Johnson. "Take this for now. A thousand dollars. If it's not enough, just say so." She paused, then added more quietly, "And don't think of it as an advance on your pay. Call it a supplement, or medical expenses, whatever makes it easier. You've been beaten up twice because of my little place, and you didn't go to the hospital either time. I feel terrible about it. I know the diner isn't doing great right now, and I can't exactly write you a blank check, but..."Glen waved her off before she could finish. "You don't need to feel bad about any of this. You told me upfront what I was getting into, and I chose to stay. Whatever happens, that's on me." He thought for a moment, then gave a small nod. "That said,

By the time Glen Johnson finished preparing the Health Potions, it was already past one in the morning. After tidying up the kitchen, he stepped out and glanced toward Wendy's room. The lights were off. She must have already gone to bed.He shook his head with a faint, rueful smile. His new boss certainly had nerves of steel. They'd only known each other for a single day, yet here she was, trusting him enough to let him sleep under her roof. Wasn't she worried about inviting trouble?Of course, Glen had no intention of doing anything remotely terrible. He had his principles. Sure, he wasn't immune to temptation. Walking down the street, he'd sneak a glance at a boldly dressed woman just like any other guy. But forcing himself on someone to satisfy a primal urge? That was a line he would never, ever cross.So even knowing Wendy was asleep just one room over, he felt no stirring of improper thoughts. He washed up quickly in the bathroom, then made his way to the guest r

Once Glen Johnson had made up his mind, he immediately tapped the pepper spray icon again and confirmed the retrieval. The canister materialized in his hand, and he set it down casually on the nightstand. Then he reached out and selected the Spirit Flask icon.The Spirit Flask had a capacity of one liter. Fill it with one liter of clear water, ferment it for twelve hours, and the water transforms into fine wine. The longer the fermentation, the richer and more aromatic the resulting wine. The maximum fermentation time is sixty days, yielding premium Amber Wine.His eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets as he read the description.Turning water into wine. This was nothing short of a divine artifact.Glen wasn't a heavy drinker by any means. He could hold his liquor well enough, but he'd never been the type to crave it. Still, discovering that this flask possessed such an extraordinary ability left him trembling with excitement. For someone in his current situati