CHAPTER 79: CHAPTER 10.7 : CLASH AT CAFE (1)

Al had arrived at a contemporary café with sporty touches, just as Rina had described. The two-story building looked luxurious and spacious, as if it was designed to be a hangout hub for the city’s elite youth. This was proven by the line of expensive private vehicles parked neatly outside—sports sedans, massive motorcycles, even chrome-plated SUVs glinting under the streetlights.

Dim amber lighting poured gently across wooden tables through the café’s large windows. Soft jazz music flowed from inside, setting up an elegant and calming mood—at least, for most people.

But Al’s presence was a sharp contrast. He came dressed only in a plain black t-shirt layered with a red sweater, paired with knee-length black cargo shorts. It wasn’t shabby, but compared to the glamorous outfits of most visitors, he clearly stood out. Did Al care? Not at all.

He didn’t head inside right away. Instead, he leaned casually against the wall near the entrance, fiddling with his phone in one hand, swinging it idly without actually turning it on. His other hand was buried in his pocket while his eyes wandered, staring blankly at the city sky—brightened by urban lights that drowned out the stars.

"Cafe Chen Fan?" he muttered under his breath, a thin smile curling his lips. "Even the café’s name sounds like some martial arts character. Rina really is a martial arts maniac."

Ironically, he was the one waiting—even though Rina had scolded him for being late, she was the one who hadn’t shown up yet.

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Not long after, a small group approached.

A handsome young man with a stylish aura walked inside. His black hair was neatly styled and shiny, his expensive leather jacket fitting snugly. His laugh was light, elegant, perfectly aligned with the café’s elite atmosphere. On his arm clung a woman in a revealing red-toned casual outfit, her strong perfume slicing through the air. Both looked to be in their twenties—the type of couple you’d expect to see in an exclusive nightclub, though perhaps tonight they wanted a more relaxed youth hangout vibe.

Trailing behind them was a massive man, broad-shouldered and intimidating. His face was fierce, his manner coarse. Though dressed neatly, the aura he exuded felt more like a thug than a professional bodyguard.

As they passed Al, all three slowed down. The young man and the woman exchanged glances, their eyes flicking to Al—a figure clearly "out of place" here. They glanced around, then back at him again, as if questioning whether they’d come to the right place, and why someone like him was standing in front of Cafe Chen Fan.

With a subtle nod, the young man gave his bodyguard an order.

The bodyguard stepped forward.

"Hey, kid. Move along. This isn’t your place," he said flatly, though with firm pressure.

Al raised an eyebrow. He slowly turned, as if only just noticing someone standing in front of him. "Hm? Can I help you, sir? Though honestly, I’d rather not."

His voice was light, casual.

"Get lost. Leave this place. You’re ruining Young Master’s mood," the big man pressed, taking half a step closer.

"Do you have a problem with me?" Al asked flatly.

"You’re the problem here. Leave, now. Don’t make me repeat myself, or face the consequences." His tone was threatening.

This time, Al didn’t answer right away. Not out of fear, but because he wanted to size up the situation first.

His eyes shifted toward the young man and woman, studying them carefully. A short silence, then his lips moved.

"Oi, you two." His voice was lazy but clear, directed at them. "Is he your babysitter? If so, tell him to get out of my face. My mood’s already bad. Don’t make it worse."

The couple looked surprised—not so much angry, but clearly not expecting Al to be unfazed. The one who felt most offended, however, was the big man, suddenly ignored by this skinny youth in front of him.

"You bastard! Do you know who you’re dealing with?!" the bodyguard roared, his voice loud enough to drown out the jazz music inside for a moment.

A small crowd began to form around them. Even some café patrons turned their heads curiously.

Whispers spread quickly.

"Wait—that’s Young Master Gerald, isn’t it?" someone said.

"Who’s Young Master Gerald?" another asked.

"Gerald Dayakora. Second son of the Dayakora family—one of the top ten richest families in Indorosia."

"You mean the conglomerates from Central Indorosia?"

"And isn’t that Miss Mona, the top model from the capital?"

"Oh no... that poor kid is dead meat. To mess with Miss Mona and a Dayakora—whose family status is nearly on par with the Virellanos? Even here in Eastern Indorosia, only the Virellanos could oppose them!"

The café’s security team began moving. Yet they didn’t intervene right away. They recognized who was involved—and hesitated. Acting rashly could be disastrous. For now, they watched.

Gerald and Mona, instead of responding, just smiled smugly, as more people recognized them.

The large man suddenly grabbed Al’s collar, jerking him forward. Fabric wrinkled, Al’s chest jolted lightly from the force.

"Now you know who my master is. This is your last chance. Kneel and apologize to Young Master Gerald. The rest will be decided by him."

Al wasn’t afraid. He only let out a short, dry chuckle, his eyes narrowing in annoyance at the big man growing more aggressive before him

"Seems your master’s both mute and deaf. Can’t speak, can’t respond."

The air seemed to explode. Some spectators covered their mouths in shock, unconsciously stepping back. The atmosphere turned heavy.

"What did you just say, brat?!" Gerald finally spoke himself.

Al nodded slowly, deliberately mocking.

"Oh, so you can talk."

Gerald’s face twisted with rage. "You—!"

He stepped forward half a pace, arrogance radiating, his chin tilted upward as his eyes bore down with dominance. Some bystanders backed off, feeling the pressure.

Al was starting to grow truly irritated.

A crimson gleam flickered in his pupils, as if ready to erase these people regardless of their status. And now this brute had dared to lay hands on him.

His free left hand opened slowly, veins tightening along the back of it, fingers taut and sharp—like claws preparing to seize prey.

The big man felt a strange, unsettling chill, but he didn’t back down. His massive shoulders leaned forward, breath heavy, eyes still sharp with intimidation.

"Seems he won’t beg for his life. Then, what should I do, Young Master?" he asked, awaiting orders.

Gerald smirked slyly while pulling Mona close by the waist.

"This isn’t our teritory. Just break his arms and legs, Egen."

The brute—Egen—nodded. His free fist clenched tightly while the other still gripped Al’s collar, trying to haul him up.

But it wasn’t so simple.

Al steadied himself, his feet rooted firmly to the ground, his body heavy as stone. With a simple movement, he brushed off Egen’s grasp on his collar.

Egen froze, stunned. His eyes widened for a fraction of a second. That iron grip of his... had been shaken off so easily.

Before his surprise faded, a surge of energy pressed down on him. Dark, suffocating energy—like the God of Death had descended before him.

Expressionless, his eyes glowing a dark crimson, Al swung his hand toward Egen’s neck.

"How dare you lay hands on me," Al growled.

But with Egen’s combat experience and level, he still managed to block with both arms, halting Al’s strike that was delivered purely with physical strength.

With that, Egen countered, launching a powerful kick at Al—this time layered with internal energy, Vita.

Al jumped back and evaded with ease. The soles of his sneakers scraped against the ground, leaving faint marks on the pavement.

The impact of the strike unleashed a wave of energy, tearing through several nearby trees and smashing into trash bins. Leaves scattered, metal clanged as the bins were sent flying, and even the café’s windows rattled from the force.

Everyone watching was stunned, including Gerald and Mona. None of them knew what had just happened. The clash was too fast, too brief—one moment Egen was striking at Al, and the next Al was already far away as a small explosion rippled through the air.

The security team was even more bewildered. Their combat training let them grasp, at least faintly, that what was unfolding in front of them wasn’t something they could hope to stop. Especially after Egen revealed his internal energy. To intervene would only risk their own lives. Instead, they scrambled to move the crowd back and stop anyone from recording the fight.

"I didn’t expect you to be a skilled fighter, boy," Egen said. "It seems I underestimated you. But what good is dancing around if you don’t have internal energy?" His tone dripped with mockery.

From the start, he hadn’t sensed even a trace of magical force from Al—every movement and strike was purely physical.

"Are you sure about that?" Al shot back, dismissive.

Egen’s eyes narrowed. Those words pressed at the back of his mind, urging him to reconsider. Could it be that this youth really did have internal energy? If so, with that speed and agility combined with power, Al would become a serious threat.

But after probing again, Egen felt nothing. No energy at all. That certainty gave him confidence to continue the fight boldly.

He lunged forward.

Al braced himself, still choosing to fight with nothing but his raw body—no inner force at all.

When the clash threatened to spiral further—

THUD!

"Enough."

A flat voice cut through the tension.

From the parking lot, Rina appeared, her shadow flashing across the crowd before her body soared into the air. She dashed forward and leapt, her kick—layered with internal energy—colliding with Egen’s fist. The impact hurled them both slightly backward, air screaming as dust and gravel exploded around them.

Rina’s face was a mix of anger and panic. She instantly planted herself in front of Al.

"What’s going on here? Who are you?" she demanded.

"Who the hell are you, little girl?! Step aside, this has nothing to do with you. Do you really want to go against the Dayakora family?" Egen barked.

"Dayakora?" Rina muttered, startled.

Her eyes swept the scene—and landed on a face she recognized. A descendant of the Dayakora family. Gerald.

"You..." she whispered, disbelief tightening her chest at the thought of what kind of trouble her friend had stumbled into. "Why is a member of the Dayakora family here?"

She knew Gerald—an heir of a conglomerate with influence rivaling even the Virellano family. No ordinary figure at all.

Gerald’s eyes narrowed as he sized her up. "And who are you? His girlfriend? Looks like you haven’t taught him any manners. Or... do you want to share his fate?"

Rina glanced at Al, who looked annoyed—but to her eyes, it seemed more like he was terrified after almost being attacked. Al, however, was irritated for two very different reasons: first, that Rina had shown up late after scolding him, and second, that she had stolen his prey.

Rina exhaled, steadying herself. There was no way she’d let her friend be hurt.

Her resolve hardened, even if it meant opposing a family as powerful as Dayakora. She turned to Al and said with a teasing smile,

"This makes it the second time I’ve saved you. You owe me two meals now, okay?"

Al just stared at her, dumbfounded. Suddenly, he had two debts of gratitude he never agreed to. He didn’t feel like she’d helped him at all—especially when this was a fight he could handle himself. Still, her ridiculous words cut through the tension, steadying his emotions.

Rina then faced Gerald and Mona.

"You think I’m afraid of your family name? Tch. You’re just a weakling hiding behind your parents’ power," she spat, openly mocking Gerald.

Gerald’s face twisted with fury. He shoved Mona aside, teeth grinding, brow furrowed.

"What did you say?! How dare you—" He pointed at Rina and snarled, "Egen! Crush that bitch!"

Egen nodded and instantly shot toward her, internal energy surging through his arms, ready to tear her apart despite his target being just a young woman.

Rina steadied herself, every inch of her body infused with Vita. Power coursed through her veins, bracing her for a high-level clash.

Their eyes locked. Egen lunged. Rina leapt forward to meet him head-on, refusing to simply defend.

And then—

BOOOM!!!

Scarlet light flared across the night, dust and gravel blasting into the air. The silhouettes of two bodies clashed against the café’s lights, leaving the crowd frozen, jaws agape.

The air screamed with the promise of a battle that was only about to escalate.

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