As soon as Glen pushed open the door, he saw a tall, slightly stooped figure calling out on the neighboring lawn, clutching something in his hands.
The old man heard the door opening and turned his head. Seeing Glen, he paused mid-call, as if wanting to ask something but holding back. Instead, he bared his teeth in a grim, sinister smile.
Had it been the original owner, Dylan, he would have fled indoors and bolted the door in terror. But Glen felt no fear, merely returning the old man's gaze with a faint, cold smile of his own.
The old man's expression stiffened, as if wondering how this once-cowardly boy had suddenly grown so bold. With a cold snort, he turned and retreated into his house, the door slamming shut with a heavy thud.
He didn't find the dog's corpse? Glen withdrew his gaze from the neighbor and looked toward the spot where the bulldog had died the previous night. There was nothing there, and he couldn't help but reveal a solemn expression.
He strode over to the location and crouched down. Up close, he could still see faint bloodstains, but they had been licked or brushed clean by something.
Something indeed prowls here at night, but what is it? I'll have to investigate when I have time... Glen rose again, glanced at the old man's house once more, and turned back into his own home.
He headed straight for the storage room, where he found a wooden club of unknown purpose. He swung it forcefully, feeling that it was serviceable enough.
"This will do."
Although Glen had confidence in his skills, this was no reason to grow careless, after all the other man had a gun. The revolver from the bearded man had been left in the forest; he could retrieve it back after the robbery, once he got bullets for it... Glen thought, then stepped out of the house.
The town was still quiet, with the distant view swallowed by mist, a common weather pattern in this region. Sunny days did occur, but they were rare; without the memories to prove it, outsiders would certainly think this was a town perpetually shrouded in fog.
Glen stepped out of the yard, remaining vigilant of his surroundings while also considering how to handle the coming conflict. He lightly leaped over the fence, landing on the old man's lawn. He hid the club behind his back, approached the door, and raised his hand to knock.
Knock, knock.
Two clear knocks later, Glen waited.
But after a long time, the wooden door showed no movement.
What's going on? This old man shouldn't come rushing out to beat me up? Glen's eyes flashed, and he continued to knock.
"Old man, I have something to discuss with you! Open the door! I won't hurt you! I promise!" Glen shouted while knocking, adding silently in his mind... Just a robbery, that's all.
He knocked for a long time, yet inside, there was still no response!
Glen switched from knocking to pounding, the dull sound of his fists against the door growing louder, but it was still useless.
He wouldn't have vanished inside, would he? Glen stopped pounding, thought for a moment, and then said:
"Don't you want to know where your precious companion went?"
As soon as he said this, Glen clearly heard a clattering sound from inside.
Now he should come out, right? Glen was ready, his eyes fixed on the wooden door.
But he was wrong.
There was still no movement. Glen's eye twitched, and a vein bulged on his forehead.
"Since that's the case, then don't blame me for forcing my way in!" Glen stepped back slightly, then suddenly raised his leg and kicked hard!
Bang!
The not-so-sturdy wooden door was kicked open. Glen didn't rush in directly but quickly dodged to the left, and indeed he heard the sound of a gunshot.
Bang!
The old man inside, aiming his gun, seemed stunned that the target had dodged. He paused for a moment but immediately began loading the second shot.
However, Glen had already rushed into the house at incredible speed, raising his club and swinging it hard at the old man's head!
In the haste, the old man could only raise his gun to block.
A tremendous vibration ran up his arm, startling him.
Before he could react further, he felt a heavy blow to his stomach, almost making him vomit out yesterday's meal.
He swung the hunting rifle wildly, trying to hit his opponent, but for the experienced Glen, it was meaningless.
Glen had undergone professional training in his previous life and knew how to deal with armed enemies.
Taking advantage of the old man's weakness, Glen snatched the hunting rifle and kicked the old man away.
"Old man, I advise you to behave yourself, otherwise..."
Glen stroked the hunting rifle in his hands, looking at the tall old man who was slowly getting up, and threatened him.
The old man was about six feet tall, with thick arms—he looked like a formidable man, but his current disheveled appearance made it easy to let one's guard down.
"Boy, I don't know what's wrong with you, but don't think you're so formidable. I think our neighbors won't like residents who cause too much disturbance."
The old man spat out a mouthful of bloody saliva, his voice hoarse.
He must have noticed something off about me, which is why he changed from his usual arrogant style and hid inside... Glen didn't answer the old man's question but instead said:
"Where is the food in your house? Tell me, and I'll mercifully spare your life."
This sudden change of topic stunned the old man. "You... what do you mean?"
"What do I mean? I'm here to rob you! Can't you see that? I'm very hungry, so don't waste my time, or I won't mind making you suffer a bit." Glen looked impatient.
The old man's face darkened, but finally, he slowly raised his finger and pointed to a room inside, saying, "It's... all in the kitchen."
Glen didn't hesitate, slung the rifle over his shoulder, and strode in the direction the old man had pointed.
Soon, the old man heard the sound of rummaging in the kitchen, followed by the sound of chewing.
He sat on the ground, not knowing how to react for a moment.
What exactly happened to this boy? He's completely changed, and he's so skilled? Could he be possessed by a ghost? the old man thought to himself.
The old man's kitchen was even better stocked than Glen's, with food almost filling the cabinets, satisfying Glen's hunger.
After eating his fill, he finally had the leisure to examine himself.
From the recent fight with the old man, he could clearly feel that his body's strength had exceeded that of an ordinary person, including his own in his previous life... If he hadn't held back in the final punch, the old man probably wouldn't have been able to get up again.
All the wounds from yesterday had healed, almost without a trace, which was also quite strange...
He felt as if something had filled parts of his blood vessels, strengthening his muscles. When did this change happen? When he first crossed over, his body was very weak, and he couldn't remember any sensations... Glen clenched his fist, feeling the surging power.
He stopped thinking and walked up to the old man again, saying sincerely: "Thank you for the meal. Don't feel too wronged. You used to bully me, too. You must understand that today is the result of cause and effect. As for this hunting rifle, I'll be taking it."
Under the old man's eyes filled with hidden anger, Glen walked out of the house.