Few days have passed after the Dieppe incident.
Multiple cities had returned to normal.
Streets murmured with tourists snapping selfies by the Seine.
Shops reopened, restaurant crowded with people and streets are bustled.
People inside the restaurant was watching a talk show in the TV:
Royd Sargent sat on the plush red couch, one ankle crossed on his knee, he flashed that smirk of him at the camera.
The talk show host, a lively woman named Idette Voclain with perfect teeth and a clipboard she held between her hands, she then leaned forward eagerly.
Behind them, a live audience—mostly young women—waved signs like "Marry me!" and "Autograph pls!"
"Royd, it's an absolute honor to have you here on Étoiles du Matin," Idette gushed, her voice cutting through the squeals.
"You single-handedly ended the Triple-S threat Godzilla monster in Dieppe."
"The footage of that slash—it went for miles! How does it feel being France savior?"
Royd chuckled, running a hand through his perfectly tousled red hair.
"Savior? Nah, I was just on vacation. The Association contacted me said they needed a hand so I figured, why not?"
The audience erupted. "ROYDDD!" as hundreds of fangirls screamed from the front row.
One of them fainted dramatically from her friend's arm.
Security hovered nearby.
Idette laughed, fanning herself playfully. "Modest as always! But tell us—you're Top-21 Z-Rank globally. Are you planning on climbing the ranks?" She winked at the camera.
Royd leaned back, his T-shirt moving softly in the wind. "Climb up the ranks?"
"To answer your question... No, I don't plan on doing that in the future. Besides there are already few powerful individuals I had in mind that are probably impossible to reach."
He paused, as his mind ran with thoughts showing ten shadow figures of the Z-Rankers he'll never be able to surpass.
Idette nodded her head. "Very humble indeed." She smiled.
More screams. Signs waved wildly. Idette continued to ask a few more questions, the studio lights dimming slightly while Royd answered her questions one by one.
Meanwhile, Loki's day unfolded like a replay button that has been happening for him for the past few days.
He woke up on the couch—same spot he'd sleep last night, throw some pillow mashed against his face.
No alarm, just the sun slanting through the blinds like an unwelcome guest.
He stretched, bones popping, and shuffled to the bathroom.
He toothbrushed, put some mint paste, scrub it, rinse then spit.
Mirror reflection: dark hair messy, bright blue eyes with a slight boredom, same as yesterday.
Changed clothes: dark jacket over a plain shirt, black trousers.
Kitchen: eggs scrambled with whatever was in the fridge (some cheese, some wilting spinach, and a dash of hot sauce).
He ate while standing up, staring out the window at the lively streets down below.
People laughed, cars honked from traffics, a street musician played some accordion.
Paris was back alive and kicking.
Then, he went out for a walk. Hands in his pockets, headphones in, listening to some random playlist.
That's when the monster showed up.
An E-rank beast threat—some scaly, dog-sized thing with too many teeth.
Appeared from a sewer grate near the Champs de Mars.
It snarled, knocking over a hot dog cart, sending some hotdogs flying up in the air.
It was kinda a waste so Loki use some of his powers, hotdogs flew straight into his mouth.
People screamed, scattering in all directions.
Loki paused mid-step, pulling one headphone out while eating the hotdog with his other arm.
The monster giving him a death stare, drool dripping from its jaws.
It charged towards him.
He let out a sigh. Stepped aside casually, dodging the beast like some slow pedestrian.
The beast flew past, crashing into a lamppost.
He popped the headphone back in.
A group of low-rank adventurers—E or D, by the look of their gear—rushed in from a side street, weapons drawn. "We got this!" one shouted heroically.
Loki kept walking, Ignoring the sounds of spells firing and the monster's yelps.
It's someone else's problem, not his.
At lunch at the corner of the restaurant
Some steak frites as his dish.
He ate alone at a window table, scrolling his phone—memes, video game announcements, some brainrots video he randomly found on the reels.
The door opened with a jingle
Loki didn't look up at first—why would he?
That's when a celebrity walked in...
Amélie Duval, France's darling pop star and actress, her blonde hair cascading along with the wind, a sunglasses perched on her nose.
She was flanked by her manager and two muscular, tall dudes as escorts.
Amélie laughed at something the manager said, her voice was attractive and melodic, drawing stares from the others.
A few patrons pulled out phones for sneaky photos; the waiter nearly dropped a tray as he rushed over with a cheerful smile.
"Mademoiselle Amélie! What an honor—your usual table?" the waiter gushed, gesturing to a vip spot in the corner.
Amélie nodded graciously, she removed her sunglasses revealing her emerald green eyes.
"Oui, merci. And some privacy, if you please."
The manager settled around her.
He dived into discussion about an upcoming film shoot, papers spreading across the table.
"Listen, Amélie, the script revisions for Étoiles Perdues came in last night—finally," The manager said, his voice low.
The restaurant buzzed with whispers of—
"I heard she's the daughter of France's adventurer council president." another one, "Is that really her?" and "I loved her in that romance movie last year."
A couple at the next table debated asking for an autograph.
Loki... ignored them. He went to the counter, paid, and left—Loki is simple as that.
He walked past across the streets as he went to check his wallet.
"90 cents Euro..." he muttered, staring at the few coins nothing worth mentioning.
"That restaurant just took like 67 euros worth of money. Did I eat that much?"
"Why did I say that number?" he questioned himself, face-palming.
His stomach wasn't growling yet, but the math was simple: an empty wallet meant an empty fridge.
A woman's scream—desperate probably calling for help, echoed from a narrow alleyway just off the main street.
"Here we go again..." he let out a lazy sigh.