Kelvin ran through the dark streets as fast as his legs could carry him.The System’s warning kept repeating in his head.Host’s mother is currently in danger.He did not slow down. He did not stop to catch his breath. When he finally reached the old bridge, his blood turned cold.The middle of the bridge had collapsed. Broken concrete and twisted iron lay everywhere. Dust still hung in the air. A small crowd stood at a distance, talking in low voices.Kelvin pushed past them.“Mom!” he shouted. “Mom, answer me!”He climbed over the rubble, cutting his hands on sharp edges. Then he saw her.His mother lay under a heavy piece of concrete. Her body was still. Blood had dried on her clothes. Her eyes were closed.Kelvin dropped to his knees and pushed the concrete away. He pulled her into his arms. Her skin was already cold.“Mom… please. Open your eyes. I’m here. I came back.” His voice broke. Tears fell onto her face. He shook her gently, but she did not move.“System,” he whispered, “

Kelvin opened his eyes before the sun rose.For a few seconds he just stared at the ceiling. The burning barrel, his mother’s cold body, and the System’s voice still felt fresh. He sat up slowly and checked the blue screen. Everything was still there. It was not a dream.He washed his face with cold water, then put on his new school uniform. When he looked in the mirror, he paused. The boy staring back at him looked different — cleaner, straighter, no longer small and broken.“System,” he said in a low voice, “put all my points into Strength.”[Confirmed. Strength is now 7.]A warm current flowed through his arms and legs. Kelvin clenched his fist. The power was real. He was no longer the weak boy who could only get beaten.He still needed to move faster. Walking to school every day would waste time. After thinking for a moment, he withdrew one thousand dollars and left the inn.At the motorcycle shop, the seller looked surprised when a fifteen-year-old paid in cash, but he still sold

The final bell rang.Students poured out of the classrooms, talking and laughing as they headed home. Kelvin packed his bag slowly. He could still feel the warmth from the garden earlier, but he forced himself to stay focused. Happiness could wait. Danger was closer.Xenovia waited for him near the door.“Are you going home now?” she asked.“Yeah,” Kelvin answered. “You should go home too. Don’t wait for me.”She looked like she wanted to say more, but in the end she only nodded. “Text me when you get home, okay?”Kelvin gave a small nod and watched her leave with her friends. Only when she was gone did he walk toward the motorcycle parking area.He never reached it.Three figures stepped out from behind the row of motorcycles and blocked his path. Zico stood in the middle. His two friends, Jengki and Fredy, stood on both sides. Their faces were dark.“You think you’re something now?” Zico said, his voice low and full of hate. “New clothes. New motorcycle. And now you’re getting close

The tallest of the three boys swung the metal pipe first.Kelvin jumped back. The pipe hit the ground hard and made a loud sound. Sparks flew from the concrete.The other two boys moved to the sides, trying to trap him. One of them had a thick wooden stick. The third one only used his fists, but his arms were thick and full of old scars.Kelvin’s heart beat fast. These were not school boys like Zico and his friends. These were older. Stronger. Meaner.The tall one smiled.“Zico paid us good money to break your legs,” he said. “Don’t make it hard.”He swung the pipe again. Kelvin ducked and stepped to the left. The pipe missed his head by only a few centimeters. The wind from the swing touched his ear.Kelvin did not wait. He stepped in close and punched the tall boy in the stomach as hard as he could. The boy let out a heavy breath and bent forward, but he did not fall. He was tougher than Zico.The boy with the wooden stick attacked from the side. The stick hit Kelvin’s left arm. Pai

Kelvin left the house early the next morning. His ribs still ached, but he ignored the pain. He had six days left. Sitting at home would not help.He rode straight to the old alley near the river. The burnt barrel was still there, black and twisted. A few older people sat on plastic chairs outside the small houses along the street. Most of them looked away when they saw him.Kelvin stopped in front of an old man who was repairing a broken chair. The man’s hands were slow and careful.“Excuse me,” Kelvin said. “Were you here the night of the fire a few months ago?”The old man looked up. His eyes were careful. “Why do you ask?”“I was the one they threw in the barrel,” Kelvin answered. “I need to know if anyone saw who did it.”The old man put down his tools. He looked at the barrel for a long time, then at Kelvin’s face.“I saw three boys,” he said in a low voice. “One of them was laughing. He had a school bag. The others poured something on the barrel and lit it. I stayed inside. I a