The process repeated for the next few days. Although Key did not tell anyone about it, he was thinking maybe he could track down Alt-Evolvers by himself. If this function existed in his head, he must be able to access it. The only problem was how.

Key lay flat on the cheap bed of the equally cheap motel. A shaft of moonlight went through the wide window, covering him and leaving the rest of the room in dimness. R.O.S. was in the room beside Key's, and who knew where Lyra was.

Occasionally, Key would sit up from the bed. Then, he would look out from the window. He would stare at the street and gaze into buildings. Yet, nothing had yet to catch his eyes.

Key sighed, lying back on the bed. He looked at the unfamiliar ceiling and closed his eyes. He, again, contemplated how he could unlock that part of his brain by himself. He had been pondering over this question continually for the past few days.

Suddenly, Key slapped himself on the forehead.

What am I thinking? I've been training for so long, and my power did not grow a single bit. There is no way I can suddenly unlock a new ability.

He raised his hand a little and hit the same spot again.

Why can't my brain learn a thing? Where is the "ever-evolving" part? Nothing is evolving. I'm stuck with this useless calculator. I can't do anything with it.

Key removed his palm from his face, letting the hand naturally fall onto the bed. He forcefully inhaled a mouthful of air and exhaled it entirely. He did it two more times to calm his thoughts down.

It's fine. It's not a problem. You are not trying to join HueCam League. Your power is enough for you to be bottom-line passable. It is enough—

Kraiger Motel.

A random name popped up in Key's head. He opened his eyes in confusion. His brows knitted slightly.

"What is that?" he asked quietly into the void, not expecting an answer.

Kraiger Motel.

The name emerged again.

Why is my brain repeating the name of a random motel? It's not even the motel I'm in.

Key sat up and looked out from the window. His sight wandered for a second and locked onto one of the buildings across the street. Specifically, his eyes were staring at a short motel called "Kraiger."

My brain is mentioning that motel. Is it trying to tell me something? What can—

Trench Line Street.

Upon hearing the next name, Key searched the street and stretched his head sideways before the window to see what was on the side. Luckily, he spotted a blue street sign. Although the words were too small for Key to see, his power examined his vision and projected what was written in the corner of his sight.

Key stared at the corner to see the three green words: Trench Line Street.

My brain just mentioned a motel and the street before it. What can my brain be doing? Is it tracking a person? Who is it tracking?

Key stared at the crowd on the street. Yet, the density of the crammed throng of people prevented Key from singling out a single suspect.

Maybe I should tell—

Happy Motel.

That's the name of this motel. Whatever my brain is tracking is in this building with me. I 'ave to tell—

"Ksshh!"

The wide window beside the bed shattered into pieces. Glass debris burst into the room as Key rolled off the bed sideways and continued further away. Within a second, Key had gone from his bed to the wooden door. His back bashed against the door plank since he had not learned how to halt with only one hand.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

As Key faced back toward the bed and the broken window, his peripheral vision spotted a pair of dents on his bed rebounding back and the bed frame quivering. From the two pieces of information alone, Key's power generated an estimated silhouette of the attacker.

Before Key fully realized what was happening, he was already looking at a person with a clear outline on their legs and a blurry one on their upper body.

The person ran across the room, stepping on and crushing the glass shards.

What is 'appening? Who is this?

Key pressed his good hand against the floor and pushed himself forward as he lunged his feet into a kick.

His soles landed right on the attacker's right shin. The attacker, with their left foot in the air, fell forward.

"Krak!"

Their face smashed into the wooden architrave and slipped off. A few wood chips burst off the door frame.

As their body fell beside Key, the invisibility was disabled.

With no delay, Key got back onto his feet, stepping away and staring down at the brown-skinned man on the floor.

The person seemed to be a local male with a buzz cut similar to Key's. His short-sleeved shirt was light blue, and his pants were a pair of jeans. The slimness in his exposed arms suggested no strength or power to climb up a building or punch through a window.

It could be that he had mastered the same kind of technique as Rag Dowii. Yet, Key knew it was probably not the case.

Groaning, the man curled his back, attempting to stand up.

No, 'ere's my chance. I can't let 'im get up.

Key stepped forward and kicked him in the nape. The man's rising shoulders lowered as his elbows slipped under the impact.

Key's next stomp fell onto the attacker's occiput, pressing his face against the ground. He reached out a hand, trying to grab Key by the ankle. Yet, Key lifted his foot and stamped that hand onto the back of his head.

Key had made the same move three times, stopping the attacker's progress with every single kick. It was only natural for him to go for the fourth shot.

He raised his foot, and before he could tread down, the attacker rolled sideways, away from him.

"Thwok!"

The sole landed heavily on the empty floor, making only a blunt chirp of wood.

The attacker wasted no time and crawled up, stepping his feet on the ground again. The two's eyes met in the air.

Finally seeing the attacker's wrathful face, Key noticed that it was still intact. Not a scrape was made from being smashed into a wall or being pushed against the ground. Following this discovery was his realization that he could not beat this man.

He had to run.

The attacker lunged toward Key, clumsily throwing his fist. Key lowered his head and dodged backward. The attacker repeated his offense, and Key avoided it again.

Both punches were calculated, predicted, and analyzed by Key's power even before the fists were swung.

As expected, the attacker raised his left hand for the third punch. A clear image of his estimated posture and position after the punch was shown in Key's sight.

Key leaned his body sideways, ready to perform the dodge. His nervous heart had already calmed down after avoiding two attacks in a row. His bygone worry seemed unnecessary.

Yet, in the blink of an eye, the green outline disappeared along with the attacker. All of a sudden, nothing was left in Key's sight.

What?

Then, Key felt a force bashed into his chest.

"Thwok!"

He fell to the ground, hitting the back of his head against the wooden floor. Immediately, Key felt immense pressure on the top of his left shoulder and clamped around his neck.

A clear outline of the attacker re-emerged in Key's sight: He was straddling Key with his right knee pressing on Key's left shoulder and his hands choking his throat.

Instinctively, Key tried to grab the attacker's grasping hand. Yet, his right arm was plastered, and his left arm was pinned by the knee. He could only barely move his left forearm. Even lifting his elbow up from the ground was impossible.

Key panicked, not due to the suffocation but the force around his neck. He could feel his flesh and trachea being squeezed together as if they were about to explode. His mouth opened and closed, and nothing went through whatsoever.

He kicked the man in the back with his knees, yet no air meant no strength. The first two hits were decent, but the following three were just meaningless taps.

The silhouette of the attacker blurred with the rest of Key's sight. Thoughts and feelings, even fear, stopped going through his head. His leg dropped to the floor after one last kick. The movable left forearm had been lying there motionlessly for some time.

The only sound Key could hear was the attacker's heavy breathing, which was busy fading. That was until he heard a knock on the door and some unrecognizable words from R.O.S.

The clamp on his throat seemed to become tighter. The increased pain grasped Key's last string of consciousness before it slipped off the cliff.

Ros…

Key raised his plastered arm and knocked the heavy cast against the wooden floor plank.

"Krak!"

"Krak!"

A splash of water crushed through the door while Key's consciousness plummeted down the cliff.