By the time Jimmy finally led them out of Greenhide Thicket, the four goons were following him as if it were the obvious thing to do.
Bobby looked over the group, all scrapes and cheap bravado.
Jimmy, meanwhile, looked completely unbothered and already halfway into his next idea.
Bobby let out a deep sigh.
"What's the matter, fatty?" Jimmy called out.
"Bro, why did you have those guys follow us..."
"Seemed useful."
Bobby stared in disbelief.
"Seemed useful? Useful? For what, robbing a bank?"
Jimmy smiled.
"Maybe."
Bobby looked deeply displeased, but apparently too tired to fight the situation.
"Alright, bro."
Jimmy grinned. If this was truly the world he thought it was, nothing could stop him from rising up.
"Hey, you," he called out to the goon with the mohawk.
Mako answered quickly, like a soldier reporting for duty.
"Yes, boss!"
"Find out who deals with monster parts around here. I want real deals, not idiot rumors."
"Understood, boss!"
Jimmy turned his attention to the next goon.
"Tall guy, you're on gear duty. Find anything cheap and useful."
Dren blinked once, then gave him a measuring look.
"Boss, do you want secondhand, new, or stolen?"
"Anything will do."
"Aye, boss!"
Jimmy glanced at the other two goons.
"And you two..."
The pair stiffened before he finished speaking.
"Set up a base of operations. We're not running around back alleys."
Their eyes shone as they answered in unison.
"Yes, boss!"
"Good, now get lost."
The four goons scattered.
Bobby watched them go.
"I need a different life."
"You'll get one soon," Jimmy said with a grin.
"That's very reassuring."
By the time Jimmy got home, every muscle in his body felt like it had filed a complaint about the day's choices.
The system's combat assistance gave him a glimpse of the clarity, timing, and precision he had as the Heaven-Slaying Sword King.
It did not, however, give him the body to make it light work.
He dragged himself up the stairs through stubbornness alone, shut his bedroom door, and dropped onto the edge of his bed with a grunt.
His shoulder throbbed. His legs felt empty. The day replayed itself in pieces.
He was in a new world, nothing like the one he'd lived in before.
But it wasn't foreign.
His countless hours of experience told him one thing. When it came to Monster Hunters 5, no one could stand before him. Not before the Heaven-Slaying Sword King.
And that made him chuckle.
The next morning, Jimmy arrived at school with legs slightly sore and a chest full of confidence.
Bobby appeared before him with a haunted expression of a boy who had spent the past night reevaluating his friendships.
"Slept well, fatty?" Jimmy asked as they headed for class.
"No."
"Tough."
"I watched you recruit four criminals yesterday."
"Former criminals." Jimmy smiled.
"You don't know that."
Jimmy ignored him as they entered the school.
Classes dragged by in a long blur of aching muscles, bored teachers, and Bobby occasionally leaning over to whisper things like, "Do you think Mako pays taxes?"
Jimmy didn't know.
He also did not care.
By the time final period began, the atmosphere in the classroom felt a bit different.
Too focused.
Mr. Windham was already at the front with a stack of printed sheets tucked under one arm. Written across the board in chalk were the words:
INTERSCHOOL PRACTICAL EXCHANGE
Jimmy dropped into his usual seat by the window and narrowed his eyes.
That sounded interesting.
Mr. Windham waited until everyone settled before opening his mouth.
"As most of you already know," he said, "the annual practical exchange with Silvercrest will begin in one month."
A low murmur rippled through the room.
Not excitement.
Resignation.
Jimmy glanced sideways at Bobby.
"What's with the mood?"
"What do you mean? It's the competition with Silvercrest."
"Yeah, and?"
"We lose that every year. We don't have a chance."
Jimmy pondered.
"How badly?"
"Enough that people start their sentences with 'next time we can-' by lunch."
"Hmm."
That was a useful level of badly.
Mr. Windham continued.
"From our class this time, we're sending two students. It'll be an examination of live field routing and controlled monster engagement."
Jimmy sat up a little straighter.
Interesting.
"Our current roster recommendations," Mr. Windham said, glancing at the papers in his hand, "are Mr. Jacob Wilfrey and Ms. Linda Farris."
Several students nodded.
Of course they did.
Jacob sat three rows ahead on the aisle, posture straight, uniform immaculate, expression cool in the way of someone who had never had to doubt whether a room would approve of him. Even sitting down, he managed to look like he had been carved out of family expectations and expensive discipline.
Linda sat near the front by the center row, one leg crossed over the other beneath her desk, dark hair pinned back neatly, her smile calm and sharp at the edges. The kind of smile that suggested she enjoyed winning almost as much as she enjoyed watching other people understand that they had already lost.
The Wilfrey family and the Farris family were two of the most prominent houses in Edgewood City. Money, influence, donations, connections. The kind of names that showed up on plaques, building wings, and expensive apology arrangements.
Jacob gave a small nod as if the announcement was simply an administrative formality.
Linda seemed unsurprised.
Jacob and Linda were the kind of students teachers pointed at when giving speeches about discipline, promise, and the future of Edgewood. Jimmy, on the other hand, was better known for sleeping in class and earning practical scores that suggested a deep personal commitment to self-endangerment.
Jimmy thought about that for about two seconds.
Then raised his hand.
Mr. Windham looked annoyed on reflex.
"Yes, Mr. Lin?"
"I want a spot on the team."
The room froze.
Then erupted.
Laughter broke out so fast it felt rehearsed.
One boy near the front slapped his desk.
Someone in the far row said, "No chance."
Another voice from the corner said, "Since when?"
Bobby's soul left his body.
Jacob turned around in his seat.
Linda blinked once, then let out a soft, amused breath.
"Jimmy," she said, "this is an interschool competition, not a charity drive."
That earned another wave of laughter.
Jimmy didn't laugh.
He looked at her for a moment, then at Jacob before smiling.
"Let me clarify," he said. "You should swap me in if you actually want to win this time."
The room quieted by half.
Linda's smile thinned.
Jacob's brows drew together.
"Excuse me?" Jacob said.
Jimmy rested an elbow on his desk.
"You heard me. You guys haven't been able to take a trophy home so far. This big brother will get you one."
Linda's face cracked.
The room went fully still.
Next to him, Bobby turned to stone.
Jacob started to rise halfway out of his seat.
"Watch your mouth."
Jimmy looked at him flatly.
"Win something first."
That did it.
Linda set down her pen with a crisp little click that somehow sounded more offended than shouting.
Jacob was no longer even pretending to be calm.
Mr. Windham stepped in before either of them could speak.
"Enough."
His voice cracked across the room like a ruler against a desk.
No one moved.
Jimmy saw the calculation in the teacher's face immediately.
Mr. Windham adjusted his glasses.
"If Mr. Lin is so confident," he said in a measured tone, "then perhaps we can settle this productively."
Jacob straightened.
Linda's expression cooled.
The class leaned forward as one.
"In three days," Mr. Windham went on, "we will hold a supervised practical assessment. Friendly rules. Safe conditions. If Mr. Lin performs decently well against one of our current candidates, I will consider him for a reserve position."
Decently well.
Reserve position.
That was cute.
Jimmy raised a hand again.
Mr. Windham's eyelid twitched.
"What now, Mr. Lin?"
"Come on now," Jimmy said. "Let's make it simple."
Nobody laughed this time.
"Two on two. Me and Bobby Chen will go against Linda and Jacob. Winning team takes both spots."
Every head in class turned toward Bobby.
Bobby, who had already been frozen stiff, panicked and looked at Jimmy with an expression that read "What the heck are you doing?"
Linda let out a short disbelieving laugh.
Jacob's stare moved to Bobby, assessed him once, and somehow became even colder.
"If this is your strategy," he said, "it's worse than I thought."
Mr. Windham should have shut it down.
Jimmy knew that.
Jacob knew that.
Linda definitely knew that.
But there was a problem.
Jimmy had issued the challenge in front of the whole class.
"Very well," Mr. Windham said.
The room collectively inhaled.
"Three days from now. Partner assessment under faculty supervision. If Mr. Lin and Mr. Chen win, they will take the two student slots for this year's exchange."
Bobby closed his eyes.
Jimmy smiled.
Mr. Windham kept going.
"If they lose, then this matter ends, and Mr. Lin will refrain from disrupting class with nonsense."
Jimmy smiled.
Linda turned in her seat fully now, one brow lifted.
"A groveling dog that insists on baring its teeth," she said, "should at least make sure it isn't volunteering for a beating."
Jimmy met her gaze.
"Then try not to embarrass yourself in front of the dog."
The dismissal bell rang.
Perfect timing.
It cut through the room just as three different students made startled noises and one of the boys by the back wall muttered, "Oh, he's dead."
Mr. Windham seized on the interruption with visible relief.
"Class dismissed for the day."
The room exploded into noise.
Chairs scraped.
Bags shifted.
Whispers broke out so quickly they practically trampled each other.
Jimmy stood and slung his bag over one shoulder.
That turned out to be a mistake.
Pain stabbed through the same arm he'd already irritated yesterday.
Jacob passed by his desk first.
He didn't stop.
Didn't need to.
He only looked at Jimmy once and muttered, in a voice low enough that the others had to strain to hear it, "A bunch of losers with too much time on their hands."
Jimmy shrugged.
Linda passed by next.
She paused long enough to offer Bobby a look that contained both pity and insult in carefully measured portions.
"Do try not to cry in advance," she said. "It makes it too boring."
Then she was gone too, moving into the hallway with the easy confidence of someone accustomed to being watched.
The rest of the class flooded out after them, and by the time Jimmy stepped into the corridor, the story had already outrun him.
Students from the next room were whispering.
Someone farther down the hall said, "No, seriously, Jimmy Lin."
Another said, "With Bobby?"
A third just laughed.
Wonderful.
Half the school would know by morning.
Jimmy was still appreciating that thought when Bobby grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him as if trying to dislodge the insanity from his brain.
"What on earth was that?"
Bobby's face had gone pale with the stress.
Jimmy stared for a second.
"Wow, fatty. Your dark face actually turned white."
Bobby made a sound of outrage so sincere that two passing students glanced over.
"This is not the time for jokes!"
Jimmy shrugged as he went on.
"You just challenged the top students in our class. In school. Out loud. In front of everyone. Then you dragged me into it like it wasn't enough dying alone!"
Jimmy gently removed Bobby's hands from his shoulders and started walking.
"Bro, I'm serious!" Bobby said. "That's Jacob Wilfrey and Linda Farris! Their families basically own half of Edgewood! They were born holding better equipment than us!"
"Probably true."
"And they're on the roster for a reason!"
"Also true."
"Then why did you challenge them?"
Jimmy stopped near the stairwell and turned to face him.
The hallway kept moving around them.
Students passed by.
Rumors spread.
Somewhere down the corridor, somebody was almost certainly reenacting the moment Bobby's soul left his body.
Jimmy lowered his voice just a little.
"Because this is how it always works."
Bobby blinked.
"What?"
"People like that take the best spots by default. Everyone else decides it's too troublesome, too embarrassing, or too hopeless to challenge them, so the same people keep getting all the opportunities. Aren't you tired of that?"
Bobby stared at him.
Jimmy continued.
"If we want rewards to come to us, we can't stay weak."
Bobby paused for a moment to think.
He exhaled slowly.
"I don't want to be weak," he admitted.
"Good," Jimmy said. "That would've made this conversation awkward."
Bobby rubbed both hands over his face.
"Okay," he said. "Fine. Fine. I accept that maybe, theoretically, there is some part of me that does not want Linda Farris looking at me like I'm a waste forever."
"Healthy."
"Shut up."
"Impossible."
Bobby let out a long, exhausted sigh.
Then looked at Jimmy again, this time with less panic and more desperate confusion.
"But what are you going to do? Do you actually have a plan?"
Jimmy's answer came immediately.
"Of course."
"A real plan?"
"Yes."
"Not one of your terrible plans where I nearly die and then you laugh it off as a learning experience?"
Jimmy thought about yesterday's forest excursion and smiled.
"A better one than that."
Bobby squinted.
"That was not reassuring either."
Jimmy started down the stairs.
"The competition is a team evaluation. They said it in class. Monster routing and controlled engagement. Jacob and Linda are probably great at looking impressive in front of teachers." He glanced back.
"But that doesn't mean they're better at winning."
Bobby followed, slower now.
"And me?"
"You are-"
Jimmy looked at him for a moment.
"You're awfully wide. Maybe you'll be able to tank a couple monster blows."
Bobby shook his head. He didn't have the energy to retort.
Jimmy pushed open the rear door.
Sunlight spilled across the narrow strip of gravel behind the school.
And there, standing in a crooked but deeply sincere line beside the west wall exactly where ordered, were Mako, Dren, Pell, and Tilo.
Mako held a folded notebook to his chest like an intelligence officer reporting to a king.
Dren had a canvas sack slung over one shoulder.
Pell was clutching three different hand-copied flyers and looked so intense about it that Jimmy was almost impressed.
Tilo had an armful of pamphlets, two borrowed forms, and the expression of a man who had survived administrative combat.
The moment they saw Jimmy, all four straightened.
"Boss!"
Bobby physically recoiled.
"Why are they here?"
"Because I told them to be useful."
Mako stepped forward first and bowed his head.
"Report, boss. I confirmed three buyers for low-grade monster parts in the east market. One honest, one greedy, one honest only when he's watched. I wrote down which is which."
Dren lifted the sack.
"Cheap gear," he said. "Wooden practice blade, training wraps, used arm guard, and prices on better equipment if you stop being poor."
"Excellent."
Jimmy glanced at the other two.
Pell and Tilo stood up straight.
Tilo spoke first.
"B-boss, we started setting up our base in a quiet corner of town. We can show you whenever you're ready."
Jimmy smiled.
"Great."
It was all in order.
"Stash everything at the base," Jimmy said. "Then go home. We start properly tomorrow."
The four stooges straightened as if he had handed down a sacred mission.
"Yes, boss!"
Bobby watched them scatter, then looked at Jimmy with the uneasy expression of a boy who was no longer sure what he had gotten himself into.
Jimmy slung his bag over his good shoulder and started toward the gate.
The exchange was a month away.
The assessment was in three days.
And somewhere in town, four terrified idiots were building the first ugly little corner of his future business.