River Faelan and his brother lived in a residential area where the buildings rose at least twenty stories high. The entire district was filled with such structures, giving it a dystopian atmosphere.
As River stepped out onto the floor of his apartment building, he looked at the street he always walked. Familiar, yet fleeting. It felt like staring at a photograph from the past.
Shaking his head, he glanced down at the bike he was wheeling beside him. Seeing the worn-out frame, River felt emotional for the second time that morning.
If there was anything he'd save besides his brother, it would be the bike in his hands.
This was the very first thing he bought with his salary. From that day on, he stopped walking an hour to work every day—because now he had this.
Since the day he bought it, River had always used this bike. Even after becoming a Hunter, this humble machine remained his main mode of transport.
Unfortunately, he knew the bike was destined for a terrible end. Just thinking about it made River's eyes glint dangerously.
"I'll make sure you get your revenge," River muttered, patting the handlebars gently. "This time, I'll kill that slime before it swallows you."
Then, he took his seat and slowly began pedaling—wobbly at first, until he found the rhythm and balance.
They say once someone learns how to ride a bike, they never forget. Even after all these years, River Faelan still rode as smoothly as ever.
Is it because I came back to the past? he wondered. Come to think of it… my memory feels sharper—fresher.
As he pedaled down the street, the roar of passing vehicles echoed around him. They zipped by without a care for the lone biker beside them. A classic situation. River was used to it by now.
After turning right, he had to travel for about five minutes before taking a left onto the lane leading to the bridge that would carry him straight into the city.
As he pedaled toward work, River reviewed his plan.
Now that he was back in the past, countless opportunities to grow stronger lay ahead. There were events still to happen, places still undiscovered, and hidden Artefacts yet untouched.
Just thinking about them and their potential made River's heart race, and he pedaled faster in excitement.
He wasn't just going to save the world this time—he was going to make the most out of this 'new' life.
While his mind wandered, a sudden loud honk snapped him back to reality.
A black-and-red sports car—sleek, futuristic—was tailing him. Its engine roared aggressively, like it was trying to intimidate everything around it. The cars were slowing down now, as they entered the bridge into the city and hit traffic.
But this sports car clearly had no patience. Instead of waiting, it swerved into the bike lane, trying to overtake the other vehicles.
But because River was in front, the person inside the sports car started tapping the horn.
A frown appeared on River's face as he noticed the driver wasn't letting up.
"This person…" River narrowed his eyes and saw a man behind the wheel—about the same age as his current body, with blonde hair. He couldn't see the young man's full face, but River could feel the anger radiating from him, especially through the increasing volume of the horn."F*ck o—"
River was about to curse when he abruptly stopped and quickly bunny-hopped his bike onto the curb, nearly colliding with a few pedestrians. Fortunately, he managed to dodge them in time and skidded to a halt.
"Hey! What's wrong with you?!"
One of the pedestrians shouted, but River ignored them. He was too busy glaring at the sports car, which roared past him.
Time seemed to slow down as River locked eyes with the driver. The young man in the car glared back—his golden eyes, blazing like a burning sun, seemed to pierce straight through River's chest.
"Hunter…" River muttered with a frown as the vehicle sped onto the bridge.
The once black-and-red sports car was now fully encased in golden fire. If River hadn't dodged, god knows what might have happened.
Arrogant Hunters who think that just because they have power, they can look down on everyone… I hate them, River thought, shaking his head.
"But golden hair and golden eyes… he reminds me of someone," he muttered before pedaling away.
...
"You're late," said a man wearing a white chef's coat and hat. His round body caused his cheeks and bulging stomach to wobble as he approached the young man adjusting his apron and yellow gloves.
"Traffic," River replied, standing in front of a sink full of dirty dishes. The kitchen buzzed with activity—cooking, chopping, orders being barked out. The aroma of food filled the air, causing River to sniff instinctively.
He had just come back to the past, and now he was back at work again. But if River wanted the first step of his plan to succeed, he needed funds. And right now, this job was the easiest way to get them.
He couldn't attend the Awakening Ceremony broke. He needed money for essentials—and for the fee.
"Traffic?" The Head Chef frowned. "You ride a bike to work—what traffic are you talking about? You want me to replace your *ss with someone who actually shows up on time?"
River, about to start washing dishes, turned to face him. His expression cold, his eyes glinting. Then, he opened his mouth.
"F*ck off, you fat pig. Far as I recall, this is the first time I've ever been late. Why not say that to the sous chef who's always late? Oh right—you can't, because you two are f*cking."
As his words reverberated, the entire kitchen fell silent. Every staff member turned toward him with shocked expressions.
One worker—who had arrived ten minutes late—started coughing, drawing a few glances her way.
"You!" The Head Chef stared at River, eyes wide with disbelief. He couldn't believe that this was the same guy they always picked on.
"You? What? Just f*ck off." River waved his hand in frustration and turned back to washing the dishes.
The Head Chef stood there, stunned. Normally, this dishwasher would bow his head if he made a mistake—too afraid to even make eye contact, let alone talk back.
But now? The complete opposite was happening. And it left the chef unsure of what to do.
In the end, he walked away, his expression dark.
Hmph. Just because I'm going to save this world doesn't mean I'll let people step on me, River thought coldly as the Head Chef left.
River was here in the past because of the Chosen One—someone who had given up his very existence in every lifetime just so River could have another chance to save this dying world. River would've rather died under that red sky than be stuck doing dishes again. But that kid—whom he'd basically raised—sacrificed himself to give them this shot.
River couldn't afford to slack off. Even more, he couldn't allow others to walk all over him. Their nonsense was nothing more than a fart compared to the coming tragedies. Honestly, he wouldn't even care if some of these people died.
Kid… this is going to be a lot of work, River thought, the water splashing around his hands, bubbles rising.
Shaking his head, he glanced at the clock on the wall, then sped up his dishwashing.
Once he finished with this job, he had another plan: training.
Even if he was still just a regular human, being physically fit was better than staying the scrawny guy he is—especially now that he intended to enter the Awakening two years earlier than in the original timeline.