I'm Just a Nobody, Why Are You Calling Me a God?!

Binhai Bureau Guardian Force Division, Training Assembly Point.

Wang Yanfei carried his gear bag into the training ground, where several people were already gathered. He scanned the area and quickly noticed a familiar figure.

"Jiayin?"

He walked over briskly, his tone carrying a hint of surprise. "It really is you! What are you doing here?"

Xu Jiayin turned her head and, upon seeing him, smiled warmly. "Yanfei-ge, you're here too? I didn't expect to run into you here."

"What a coincidence, huh?" Wang Yanfei laughed heartily. "But I'm here for the formal training. You're here for supplementary training, right?"

Xu Jiayin nodded. "Yes, I just joined the Guardian Force and still need to complete some basic courses." She paused, a trace of doubt flashing in her eyes. "By the way, didn't Lin Yi come with you?"

"Nope." Wang Yanfei shook his head, his tone carrying a hint of confusion. "I asked him out yesterday, but he vaguely said he was busy—seems like he's working on some mysterious project, but he didn't say anything specific."

Xu Jiayin frowned slightly and murmured, "He has been really busy lately. He hasn't even contacted me in the past few days. But Lin Yi is always cautious; he should be fine, right?"

"Don't worry about that guy—he's too sharp to get into any trouble." Wang Yanfei waved a hand dismissively, smiling in reassurance. "He's probably just caught up in some big plan. Once he's done, he'll show up as usual."

Xu Jiayin's expression relaxed a little, but she still mumbled softly, "I hope so…"

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A middle-aged man in a Guardian Force uniform walked over from the far end of the field. He was tall and sturdy, his steps steady, and his face bore a friendly smile. In his hand, he held a data pad.

"Hello, everyone." He stood before the group, scanning them with a strong yet approachable voice. "I am Lin Zhuo, your primary instructor. I will be responsible for your training during this period. You can call me Instructor Lin."

He gestured toward the training field behind him. "Guardian Force training focuses on both combat and teamwork. Some of you are official members, while others are pre-selection candidates. You may have different backgrounds, but moving forward, your goal is the same—bring out your strongest potential while learning to work with your teammates."

"Before we begin, let's do introductions." Lin Zhuo's tone shifted slightly, and he smiled. "State your name, ability, and some basic information—let's make it formal, since this will shape your first impressions of each other."

He pointed to the young man on the far left. "Let's start with you."

The first to step forward was a tall, lean young man with a calm and deep voice. "Liu Fu, ability: Concealment. I can hide my presence and energy signature. I specialize in reconnaissance and ambush tactics."

Next, a short-haired girl took a step forward, her tone crisp and decisive. "Zhang Yao, ability: Explosion. I can detonate objects I've touched. I specialize in long-range disruption and control."

The third was a tall young man with a composed expression. "Han Zijian, ability: Gravity Manipulation. I can alter localized gravity to suppress enemies or control the battlefield."

When the fourth person spoke, her voice was gentle yet firm. "Xu Jiayin, ability: Dragon Force Manifestation. It enhances both offense and defense, positioning me as a frontline defender and attacker."

The fifth was a short-haired young man, his tone carrying a bit of confidence. "Li Yucheng, ability: Electrical Control. I can release high-voltage currents to weaken enemies or attack directly."

Finally, it was Wang Yanfei's turn. He stepped forward with a steady voice. "Wang Yanfei, ability: Jade Force. It enhances physical defense and energy flow, making me suited for close-combat defense and endurance battles."

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Neon lights flickered along the streets, the air thick with the scent of rust and oil smoke—like an industrial nightmare that never ended. Ark Cohen stood at the entrance of a rundown supermarket, neon reflections dancing across his tired face. He lowered his gaze to the coin in his hand, its cold metallic surface engraved with an angel's relief, one wing gleaming under the dim light.

"Just trying to survive," he muttered to himself, his voice low, nearly drowned out by the distant hum of machinery.

The coin spun between his fingers, flipping into the air in a perfect arc before landing in his palm—heads.

Angel.

Ark pushed open the door, triggering a sharp beeping from the sensor. Inside, the supermarket was lined with cheap metal shelves stacked with synthetic goods that looked like they could last for decades. The shopkeeper stood behind the counter, scanning Ark up and down like a security scanner.

"What are you looking for?" the shopkeeper asked, his voice hoarse with impatience. His left arm, a mechanical prosthetic, whirred softly, radiating an unspoken threat.

Ark didn't answer. Slowly, he pulled out a small knife—old, rusted, but still sharp. He raised it to chest level, his cold gaze locking onto the shopkeeper.

"Money," he said, his voice calm but unwavering.

The shopkeeper scoffed, lifting his prosthetic arm—a modified limb with an embedded short-barrel shotgun. The muzzle gleamed with cold menace, aimed squarely at Ark's chest.

"You know this thing can turn you into minced meat, right?" the shopkeeper sneered, his finger resting on the trigger.

The air tensed for a moment, and even the neon lights seemed to flicker.

"Try it," Ark said softly. There was no emotion on his face, as if fate had already placed its final bet.

"Click!" The trigger was pulled, but no shot fired. The prosthetic arm suddenly screeched, gears grinding out of sync, sending sparks flying.

The shopkeeper's smirk froze. He instinctively looked down at his malfunctioning limb—just as Ark vaulted over the counter, his knife pressed to the man's throat. With his free hand, Ark yanked open the register drawer, grabbing a loose stack of bills—roughly 3,000 West Credits—along with a poorly wrapped synthetic loaf of bread.

"Don't… don't kill me!" the shopkeeper stammered, his voice shaking.

Ark cast him a cold glance, devoid of mercy—only exhaustion and grim determination remained in his eyes.

"Your life is worth an angel today," he murmured before disappearing into the night beyond the door.

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Ark crouched by the tunnel wall, a nearly burnt-out electronic cigarette dangling from his lips. The smoke drifted through the darkness, mixing with his heavy breathing. He flipped the coin in his hand, watching it spin under the dim light as he cursed.

"Fucking Golden Eagle bastards, still chasing me after a month? You really think I'm gonna beg for mercy? Screw you."

The coin twirled in the dim light, and he caught it effortlessly, staring at the cold angel engraving with a twisted smirk.

"I'm living on this thing now. You fat, bloated pigs think you can catch me?"

Since the day he killed that corporate bastard, he knew there was no turning back. Those corporate scum, sitting in their high towers, sipping overpriced synthetic booze, never once saw the people at the bottom as humans. Lena's death proved that—burned alive, and they didn't even offer a single apology.

"These animals—none of them get to walk away."

He crushed the cigarette underfoot, stood up, and dusted off his coat. The coin remained clenched in his fist, as if it were his last lifeline. His fingers brushed over the rusty knife inside his coat—old, worn, but still lethal.

Let them come.