While Elliot made his way to the transportation area, he was abruptly forced to stop in an alley.
"Since you've been following me for a while, why not just get it over with?"
He glanced back as he spoke. The streets were unusually empty, despite it being early in the morning and everyone should be getting ready for work. Part of it was mainly due to the remote area of the city, but mostly, it was because he had deliberately led his pursuer into this secluded spot.
Elliot wasn't afraid, he knew that whoever was following him was weak—he could tell.
And soon, a sudden rustle broke the silence.
From one of the garbage bins, the man who had been following him sprang out at high speed and launched a fierce attack on him.
The force of his leap was powerful and sent the garbage bins falling backwards, rolling onto the road and clattering noisily just as the attacker closed in on Elliot.
A sinister smile twisted the man's face. "Die, you fucking scum."
His blow, aimed to hit and shatter Elliot's skull, slammed into a firm hand—Elliot's.
A sharp burn spread across Elliot's palm from the impact, but his gaze remained locked on his attacker.
More precisely, on the small needle caught between their hands—a thin silver needle glistening with yellow poison.
Realizing something, a smirk formed on the corner of his lips. "I see. So you work for the Clarks too. No wonder you're angry with me."
Then, with a swift strike to the attacker's shoulder, he sent the man knocking back several meters.
'Weak…'
Although his opponent had some resistance, it was painfully clear that his body was not much stronger compared to him. His body could endure, but only to a limit—it was like watching a two-legged rat trying to stand up to a predator.
The attacker groaned, looking up in shock.
"You... You are strong," he muttered, wincing as he realized his shoulder had been slightly dislocated.
Elliot scoffed. "Come to think of it, I haven't had the chance to test my little rat yet."
His smirk widened. "So you came just in time."
Summoning his rat to his side, Elliot turned his gaze at the attacker.
"Let me test this little one's strength. Fight with all your might if you want to survive. If you stand up to him, he might let you live."
Then, in a firm voice, Elliot ordered the rat to attack, "Attack him."
The rat's small black eyes locked onto its target. The attacker, still dazed, looked at the creature in confusion.
It was only then that he realized what was happening.
"Is he an Awakened One?!"
But his thoughts were soon cut short by a sharp burst of pain.
The rat lunged at him at a ridiculous speed, striking his nose with a crushing force.
His world spun as he was sent hurtling backward. He barely had the time to register what had happened and recover before another blow cracked across his face, slamming him into the ground.
"Ugh…" He groaned, the pain throbbing in his nose and mouth. But he wasn't a fool—he knew he had to defend himself.
Summoning all his strength, he lashed out with two desperate blows at the silhouette he could barely see and managed to stop it at the last moment, avoiding the third consecutive blow that could have knocked him out had it hit him.
From the side, Elliot frowned as he watched this.
"God… keeping it out consumes a lot of mental energy. I hadn't noticed it before since I had just created it, but now that I've, it's clear—having such a low sense attribute is going to be a problem."
He could hold his own without any problems and could still maintain the summon active for another hour, but that was far too short a time considering he had only one summon. So, in the future, he needed to increase his sense attribute so that he could have his summons out for a considerable amount of time.
He couldn't simply assume that every battle he fought would last less than an hour.
Although the rat was easily countered, it was still much stronger than the debt collector. Its agile claws and fists struck relentlessly, battering its opponent's face and body until the man was forced into a position from which he couldn't recover.
Elliot watched the fight closely, trying to find the strengths and weaknesses in his summon. However, perhaps due to his lack of experience in combat, no clear flaws stood out to him.
What he did notice, however, was that despite being struck with the venomous needle numerous times, his summon was entirely unaffected by the poison.
That made sense. That poison targeted the blood, and his energy-based summon had no relation to blood.
Even so, he noticed something about this that intrigued him.
'If I remember correctly, that bastard should have 10 points in strength. My rat has the same as well. So why is the difference so vast?
On closer inspection, as the seconds passed and the fight dragged on, Elliot gradually began to understand the reason behind the situation.
'Misfits receive a certain amount of stats that are higher than those of ordinary humans, but their stats are limited to superhuman muscle strength. They don't have pure-form attribute energy; they just have enhanced superhuman stats. That's why they don't have real strength.'
He hadn't realized that it worked this way before. It was valuable information that could be of great use to him in the future, especially since even the Misfits themselves were unaware of it.
While his thoughts raced, his rat continued its relentless assault and managed to injure the man, who began to break as desperation set him and screamed for help.
"HELP! PLEASE, WAIT! I WILL TELL YOU EVERYTHING I KNOW!"
"FORGIVE ME!"
Elliot stood there, staring at him and did nothing. The man's breath hitched as he saw death approaching—his fate was sealed the moment the rat lunged at him. He had no way to defend himself.
'I'm dead...'
For a moment, fear consumed him, and he regretted coming here. With no other option, he closed his eyes and braced for the inevitable.
But the expected blow never came.
Slowly and carefully, he opened his eyes and suddenly found himself face-to-face with Elliot. The strange rat had disappeared; only Elliot was in front of him.
That meant… he had been spared. For now.
His body sagged with relief, and he collapsed backward, unable to hold on any longer.
Elliot's voice cut through the air, firm and commanding. "If what you tell me turns out to be useful and I'm satisfied, I will let you go. But you have five minutes—I don't have much time."
The debt collector swallowed roughly when he heard him speak. 'He's powerful. Very powerful.' Even his voice alone made him tremble from fear.
Although he had seen some awakened before, never had anyone pointed their fury at him.
But he forced himself to nod.
"I'll talk. It's about the Clarks that I know; I'm sure it will interest you."