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

A sudden buzzing sound filled the air as several drones sliced through the dark night sky, their lights sweeping across the ground, illuminating the tunnel's outline with stark clarity. Ark squinted and swiftly ducked into a pile of discarded steel, his ears still catching the distant broadcast of the Golden Eagle Group.

"Target confirmed… Area under lockdown… Immediate pursuit initiated."

"Heh, all this fuss just to catch a repairman? Golden Eagle really is dumb," Ark spat, patting the coin in his pocket.

He flipped the coin into the air, watching it land in his palm—heads.

"Alright, Angel, let's work together one more time today," he grinned, though his eyes gleamed with a ruthless edge. He knew he had only one hour of good luck—if he didn't use it well, he'd have to face those bastards head-on when the coin flipped again.

Crouching low, Ark silently drew his small knife and fixed his gaze on the patrolling robots in the distance.

--------

Ark wiped the corner of his mouth, spitting to the side as the coin rolled in his palm. Without further hesitation, he burst out from behind the steel heap.

"Come on, you bastards!" he roared, like a wolf driven to the edge. The drones' spotlights instantly locked onto him, and several patrol robots raised their weapons, red targeting lasers dancing across his chest.

"Bang! Bang! Bang!" Gunfire erupted like a torrential downpour, a metallic storm sweeping through the tunnel. Yet Ark moved like a shadow on ghostly feet, weaving through the rain of bullets. Every step, every turn seemed to miraculously dodge the bullet trajectories by mere inches.

"Hahaha! Not bad, Angel, not bad at all!" he laughed as he ran, flipping off the robots behind him.

But when he swung his small knife at the nearest patrol robot, the blade chipped upon impact. Rusted and worn, it was useless against the heavy metal plating, and worse, the attack gave away his exact position.

"Target exposed! Locking in!" The cold mechanical voice echoed through the tunnel.

"Shit!" Ark cursed under his breath and bolted. He knew that Angel's luck wouldn't turn his blade into some legendary weapon. His only real skill was outrunning these bulky tin cans.

The drones' searchlights bathed Ark's retreating figure, rapidly closing the distance. But then, out of nowhere, a sharp screech of brakes pierced the air, followed by a thunderous metallic crash. A fully loaded automated transport truck had lost control, veering into the tunnel entrance and blocking the pursuit, cutting off the robots and drones.

Ark's eyes widened in disbelief. "What the hell? That actually worked?"

He didn't waste time questioning his luck. Skirting around the wreckage, he sprinted deeper into the tunnel, his movements precise and sure, as if fate itself were guiding his steps. His fingers clutched the coin tightly, the cold metal against his palm steadying his breath.

As he rounded the last corner, he looked up and noticed something strange—all the surveillance cameras in this part of the tunnel were broken, their red indicator lights completely dark.

"Well, damn." Ark smirked. "Angel, you really pulled off a miracle today."

-------------

Meanwhile, inside the Golden Eagle Group's command center.

"The target is gone," an operator reported, sweat beading on his forehead. "The surveillance system… It's malfunctioning. The cameras didn't capture his escape route!"

Jackson Wells clenched his electronic cigarette so hard his veins bulged. He glared at the screen, where the drones were still stuck behind the transport wreckage, like a flock of mindless mechanical birds.

"Who the fuck let that truck into the tunnel? Where's dispatch?" His furious roar echoed through the room.

"Sir, the transport AI system appears to have been disrupted. We're investigating the cause…" an assistant replied hesitantly.

"Investigate my ass! Tell me where he is—now!" Jackson slammed his fist onto the table, his eyes sharp as knives as he scanned the trembling operators.

The lead technician's voice quivered as he stammered, "We… we completely lost his signal. The cameras went down, and there are no other monitoring devices in the area. He's disappeared."

Jackson took a long drag from his cigarette, exhaling a thick plume of white smoke. He muttered under his breath, "Ark Cohen, you little shit… You got away this time. But next time? I'll rip you apart."

The room fell into dead silence, the only movement being the flickering pursuit footage on the monitors.

-------------

Ark stood at the street corner, spinning the coin between his fingers as his breathing finally steadied. His pockets felt heavier. Reaching inside, he ran his fingers over the crumpled 3,000 West Credits he had stolen, a strange sense of satisfaction washing over him.

"Guess I finally made it big today," he grinned, eyeing a fancy restaurant glowing under neon lights. Its golden windows reflected the street's artificial glow, while uniformed waiters stood at the entrance, their expressions masked by well-rehearsed politeness.

Ark glanced down at himself—his tattered coat was stained with oil, his shoes barely holding together. He scoffed, spitting to the side. "To hell with clothes. I've got money. Who says I don't deserve a good meal?"

Stepping into the restaurant, he immediately felt the shift in atmosphere. The lighting was soft, the music gentle, the silverware on the tables gleaming. The air was filled with the rich aroma of exquisitely prepared dishes.

Scanning the room, Ark spotted numerous wealthy patrons dining in comfort, their conversations flowing effortlessly.

A waiter approached, eyeing Ark's ragged attire with a brief but noticeable pause.

"Sir, do you have a reservation?" the waiter asked, his tone carefully measured, clearly doubtful of Ark's presence.

"Reservation?" Ark hesitated for a fraction of a second but quickly regained his composure. "Of course, I came all the way from the South District for this. What, does your fancy restaurant turn away paying customers?"

The waiter pursed his lips, clearly unimpressed, but nonetheless pulled out a smart terminal to check the reservation list. His frown deepened as he scrolled through the data, occasionally sneaking skeptical glances at Ark.

Just as Ark was considering whether to just throw down cash and force his way in, the waiter's expression suddenly changed. His posture straightened, and his demeanor shifted instantly to one of polite servility.

"Ah, my apologies, Mr. Cohen! I should have realized sooner. Please forgive the delay," the waiter said, bowing slightly. "Right this way—your private dining room is already prepared."

Ark froze for half a second but quickly played along. Clearly, they had mistaken him for someone important. He fought back a smirk and replied with a dignified huff, "Tsk, next time, be quicker. I don't like waiting."

The waiter nodded repeatedly, leading Ark to an elegantly furnished private dining room. Before long, a parade of exquisite dishes arrived—seared dragon cod, black truffle steak, pan-seared foie gras in red wine reduction… Ark stared at the feast before him, nearly drooling.

"Now this… This is how life should be," he muttered, picking up a fork and diving into the meal.

--------

Meanwhile, just outside the private room, the real Mr. Cohen—a rotund, extravagantly dressed businessman—was fuming, his face beet-red.

"What do you mean someone took my private room? Do you idiots know who I am?" he bellowed at the waitstaff.

The waiter, now visibly sweating, stammered, "M-my apologies, Mr. Cohen. There may have been a mix-up…"

"A mix-up? I booked this suite a month ago, and you're telling me there's a mix-up?" The businessman was nearly foaming at the mouth, his fat fingers jabbing at the trembling waiter. "I want to see your manager!"

At that very moment, Ark—his belly full, his pockets still lined with stolen cash—pushed open the door of the private room, casually strolling out. As he passed the enraged businessman, he gave him the slightest smirk.

Cohen froze, his brain struggling to process what he had just seen.

Then, realization hit.

"Who the hell was that?! Why was he coming out of my room?!" he roared.

The waiter's face turned deathly pale. Meanwhile, Ark simply walked out of the restaurant, leaving behind a trail of chaos and confusion in his wake.