Chapter 5: God-Level Skill

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It was Luca’s first time unlocking an SSR card, and also the first time he had encountered a character with five skills. If it had been a night demon with that many skills, Luca wouldn’t have been surprised, but this was a little girl, only twelve years old, yet she had so many skills?

He had assumed Matilda would be at most an S-rank card, on the same level as Stan.

After all, the little girl herself had very little combat power, quite weak.

It seemed that the skills of a character card were not entirely tied to combat ability, but depended on certain traits the character possessed…

At that moment, Luca looked down at the little kid, who was puffing on a cigarette trying to seem mature, and smiled to himself, though his face remained calm and elegant as he gently shook his head, “Sorry, I don’t smoke.”

Matilda tilted her small head, studying the tall, handsome man standing before her—he was 1.85 meters tall. Underneath her delicate nose, there was only a faint fresh scent; indeed, she could detect no smoke on him.

“Okay.”

Matilda decisively took off the cigarette and put it back into her pocket, then leaned forward curiously to inspect the room behind Luca. “Neighbor uncle, where are you from? Did you just move to New York?”

“Do I really look like an outsider?”

“Isn’t that so? New Yorkers aren’t this warm-hearted, especially the poor people living here. No one cares whether the kids next door are being bullied; everyone only worries about themselves, with no extra energy to meddle.”

Her tone carried a worldly cynicism and coldness far beyond her years. If one ignored her appearance, height, and youthful voice, Luca could have sworn he was speaking to a grown woman.

Some people remain innocent even in their twenties or thirties; others, at twelve, are already as hardened as adults beaten down by life.

“You’re mistaken,” Luca crouched down to meet her eye to eye, his gaze gentle. “I’m a New Yorker. I used to live on Arthur Street, not far from here.”

“Arthur Street? Are you Italian?”

“Sort of.”

Luca shrugged.

“Sort of?” Matilda couldn’t quite grasp the complexity of Luca’s identity. She smiled and said, “I’m Matilda, your friendly neighbor uncle. Thanks for helping me earlier.”

“Luca.”

“Sorry you just moved in and had to see such a terrible thing.”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s not your fault.”

Matilda was slightly stunned. Growing up, the most common thing she heard was complaints from her parents and sister; no matter what went wrong, they always took it out on her, as if everything was her fault.

This was the first time someone told her it wasn’t her fault.

Just then, the renovation workers finished installing the appliances and were carrying out the discarded boxes and trash toward the door. The two of them instinctively stepped aside to let the workers pass.

Luca casually settled the bill for them.

The workers gradually left.

Matilda voluntarily offered to help Luca clean the room to repay his earlier kindness.

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She was quite skilled at chores and quickly helped Luca tidy the room thoroughly.

Before leaving, Luca called her over and handed her a small first-aid kit, filled with ointments for wounds, band-aids, and other medical supplies.

“Can you apply the medicine yourself?”

“Yes.”

Matilda held the box in one hand and brushed her bangs with the other, an awkward gesture trying to conceal the bruises from domestic abuse. She stared at Luca for a few seconds and softly said, “Thank you,” before running out of the room.

Only then did Luca notice the light, joyful steps of a child, like a spring bouncing higher the harder it was compressed.

...

Matilda happily returned home clutching the first-aid kit, intending to go to the bathroom to apply the medicine. When she pushed open the door, she found her parents entwined together in a disturbingly intimate scene.

The atmosphere instantly turned awkward. Norman shouted angrily, “Get out! Close the door!”

Matilda silently shut the bathroom door.

Passing through the living room, her half-sister, dressed in pink yoga pants, was bouncing and exercising in front of the TV.

That was Matilda’s half-sister, named Isa.

Matilda also knew that Isa cared deeply about maintaining her figure, loved shaking her ample hips, and enjoyed the admiring glances from the boys at school.

She thought to herself that she couldn’t let her sister find out that a handsome guy had moved in next door; otherwise, that flirt would definitely knock on Luca’s door in the middle of the night.

The neighbor uncle was a light sleeper and surely wouldn’t appreciate such rude disturbances.

With that thought, Matilda quietly sat on the sofa and opened the first-aid kit to treat her wounds. The supplies were very complete and all brand new.

Soon after, Norman, having finished his outburst, came out and frowned upon seeing the medical kit in front of Matilda. “I gave you money, and you spent it on this? Who told you to buy these? For such minor injuries, do you really need medicine?”

“The neighbor… brother gave them to me.”

“...”

Norman immediately shut his mouth, caught between anger and helplessness.

Damn it!

...

Luca dragged a suitcase out from under the bed and skillfully took out some tools: guns, ammunition, a combat knife, grenades... and a bugging device.

Having just moved here, it was only fitting to give the new neighbors some gifts.

Bugging devices were a perfect choice.

This device wasn’t meant to spy on the little girl, but on her father—Norman.

Norman was Stan’s informant and also a drug custodian. The two often collaborated in drug embezzlement and distribution.

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Stan stored part of his drugs with Norman.

In the original storyline, if Norman hadn’t succumbed to greed, adulterated the purity, and stolen some of Stan’s drugs, the massacre wouldn’t have happened.

But Norman was only one of Stan’s informants. Following the principle of not putting all eggs in one basket, who knew how many hidden dens Stan actually had?

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