Max soared toward Kain City, seemingly detached from the chaos he had just orchestrated.

...

Far away from Max's current location Charles's plain landed.

The bustling city of Grixhall was alive with the sound of commerce and conversation. In the heart of this metropolis stood The Vault Headquarters, a grandiose bank with towering golden pillars and a pristine marble facade. It was the epitome of wealth and prestige, where only the elite dared to step inside.

Outside The Vault, a young man with disheveled clothes and a weary face stood clutching a black credit card embossed with the Vault's logo. Oliver Grant, a struggling university student with no family to his name, had endured years of ridicule from his peers. Today, however, he carried something that could change his life, a card linked to an account with untold wealth, given to him by a so called distant relative, the guy that gave him the card told him he might face his death soon enough, and if he doesn't contact him within 3 months, only then will the card be usable for him, and today was the deadline of the months.

The moment Oliver approached the bank doors, a group of classmates loitering nearby noticed him. These were the privileged scions of wealthy families, dressed in tailored suits and designer accessories. Their leader, Ryan Morell, sneered as he recognized Oliver.

"Oliver?" Ryan laughed mockingly. "What are you doing here? This isn't some charity office. The Vault's meant for people with actual money."

The group erupted in laughter, circling Oliver like vultures.

"This place is for people like us," chimed in Clara Lynton, flipping her manicured hair. "Not for some lowlife pretending to be rich."

Ryan noticed the card in Oliver's hand and was stunned for a moment but quickly smirked.

"Where did you steal that from? Or is it fake? You know I can attempt citizen-arrest on you now! Hhhhh."

Oliver tightened his grip on the card, his expression a mixture of shame and determination.

"It's mine," he said quietly but firmly. "This card belongs to me."

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The group burst out into laughter.

Inside the bank, a sharp-dressed woman with an air of authority watched the commotion through the glass doors. Eleanor Cross, one of the Vault's senior managers, was accustomed to dealing with both the affluent and the desperate. However, her sharp eyes caught the glint of the Vault card in Oliver's hand.

She exited the building, heels clicking against the pavement.

"What's going on here?" Eleanor asked coldly, her voice cutting through the jeers.

The group quieted slightly but didn't disperse.

"This peasant claims he owns a Vault card," Ryan said, smirking. "We all know that's a lie."

Eleanor's gaze flicked to Oliver and then to the card he held. "Let me see that."

Oliver hesitated before handing the card over. She studied it, her expression unreadable. "If this card is yours, we can verify it in our system. Come with me."

Oliver followed her, his heart pounding, while the others stayed outside, peering through the glass with mocking grins.

Eleanor swiped the card at the teller station, pulling up the account details. Her brows furrowed as the screen displayed a name that didn't match the young man standing before her.

Charles Wood, CEO of Rising Pip Industries.

Eleanor turned back to Oliver, her tone now cold. "This card does not belong to you. The rightful owner is Charles Wood."

Oliver's face drained of color. "No, that's not possible. It's mine!"

Before Eleanor could respond, Ryan and his group stormed in, laughing hysterically.

"We told you, Oliver!" Ryan said. "You're just a liar trying to act important!"

Eleanor stepped forward, her expression stern. "Enough. Take this outside, and I am keeping the card for its real owner. "

Oliver was dragged out of the bank, his protests drowned by the jeers. Outside, the group's ridicule escalated into violence. Ryan shoved Oliver to the ground, and the others joined in, kicking and beating him.

By the time they were done, Oliver lay on the pavement, battered and barely conscious.

From a distance, a man in a tailored suit and polished shoes watched the scene unfold. Charles adjusted his cufflinks, ensuring he remained out of sight until the commotion died down. When the group stepped away from Oliver's limp body, Charles finally approached.

Feigning concern, he knelt beside Oliver, before turning to Ryan and his friends.

"You boys did good," Charles said smoothly. "That card is indeed mine. I must've dropped it earlier. Thank you for handling this... matter."

Ryan grinned. "No problem, Mr. Wood. We're always happy to help."

Charles stood. "I might have some work for you. Meet me tomorrow at the Rising Pip office. There's someone I'd like you to meet.

But before make sure to clean this guy.... permanently!."

The group exchanged excited glances, nodding eagerly.

With that, Charles entered the bank, his demeanor calm and composed. After confirming his identity, he claimed ownership of the account tied to the card. As he left the Vault, his expression betrayed no guilt or hesitation.

He had left the credits untouched according to Max's instructions but everything else was taken out ready to be sent to Max.

.....

Back to Max, with his new vitality stat, his stamina was far beyond nature as he flew for 3 days straight finally reaching Kain-City.