Chapter : 671

Ken walked toward the back door. He opened it and stepped out onto the small wooden patio.

Brandon Eliot stood in the backyard. Ken's father wore a faded gray shirt. His gray hair caught the afternoon sunlight. He was sorting through some old wooden fishing poles. He checked the fishing lines. He organized a small tackle box.

Ken slouched against the wooden railing. He slid his hands deep into his pockets. He smiled lazily.

"Hey, Dad," Ken called out. "Are you going to the river? Because that looks like a lot of fishing gear."

Brandon looked up. He smiled a very gentle, quiet smile. "Hello, Ken. Yes, I was just planning to head down to the water. The factory gave us the afternoon off. I figured I would try to catch some dinner."

Ken thought about the concept of fishing. He used his flawless anime logic to analyze the activity.

"Fishing is the best mini-game in any role-playing game," Ken reasoned silently in his mind. "It requires zero running. You just cast a line into the water. You sit in a comfortable chair. You stare at the water for hours. You do nothing until a fish bites. It is the ultimate slacker sport. I can definitely participate in this."

Ken walked down the patio steps. He grabbed a spare wooden fishing pole from the grass.

"I will come with you," Ken offered casually. He grabbed a small folding chair. "I am a master fisherman. I have incredible patience. Mostly because patience just means sitting still. I am very good at sitting still."

Brandon chuckled softly. He picked up his tackle box. "I would love the company, son. Let us go."

They walked out of the backyard together. They strolled down a quiet dirt path behind the neighborhood. The path led away from the houses. It led toward a wide, slow-moving river. The water looked clear and cool. Tall green trees lined the riverbanks. The leaves rustled gently in the wind. The area was secluded. Nobody else was around.

They reached a nice, flat spot on the riverbank. The grass was soft. The shade from a large oak tree covered the ground.

Ken immediately unfolded his small chair. He placed it in the shade. He sat down. He slouched deep into the seat. He stretched his legs out. He let out a long, dramatic sigh of pure comfort.

"This is a top-tier location," Ken announced. He pulled a bag of potato chips from his pocket. He popped the bag open. "I have my chair. I have my snacks. The environment is perfect."

Brandon set up his own chair a few feet away. He baited his hook. He cast his line into the flowing water. The bobber splashed softly on the surface. He sat back and relaxed.

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Ken did not bait his hook. He did not even cast his line into the water. He just held the fishing pole in one hand. He rested the pole across his lap. He used his other hand to eat potato chips.

"You are not going to catch many fish like that, Ken," Brandon noted with a small smile.

"I am practicing a highly advanced technique," Ken lied smoothly. He chewed a chip. "It is called wireless fishing. I use my mind to convince the fish to jump directly into the bucket. It saves a lot of arm strength."

Brandon just laughed quietly. They sat together in the peaceful shade. The river flowed constantly. The birds sang in the branches above them. The afternoon sun slowly moved across the sky.

The atmosphere was serene. It was a perfect break from the loud, chaotic battles of the capital city. Ken felt relaxed. He popped another chip into his mouth. He watched the water ripple.

But the quiet afternoon was not just about fishing. A very serious, highly mysterious conversation was about to begin. The peaceful mood slowly shifted. The real reason Ken wanted to sit by the river was about to reveal itself.

---

Ken Eliot sat in his folding chair. He slumped his shoulders. He wore his wrinkled navy blue suit pants. His white shirt hung completely untucked. He held his empty fishing pole across his lap. He reached into his bag of sour cream and onion potato chips. He pulled out a large chip. He popped it into his mouth. Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.

The river flowed smoothly in front of them. The water made a very quiet, calming sound. The tall oak tree provided excellent shade.

Brandon Eliot sat in a chair a few feet away. He held his fishing pole firmly. He watched his red and white bobber float on the water surface. He looked very calm. His faded gray shirt rustled slightly in the wind.

Ken finished his chip. He wiped a crumb off his chin. He looked out at the water. His dark, sleepy eyes remained relaxed. His face held a goofy, lazy smile.

"The city is loud right now, Dad," Ken stated casually. He did not turn his head. He just stared at the river. "There are a lot of politicians yelling at each other. The news broadcasts are constantly blaring from the screens. People are running around in circles. It is a massive headache."

Brandon did not take his eyes off his bobber. He gave a slow, small nod.

"I have seen the news," Brandon replied quietly. His deep voice sounded very steady. "The world is changing very fast. The Upper Council is making large moves. The capital is full of unrest."

Ken slouched a little deeper into his chair. He crossed his ankles. He let out a loud, dramatic yawn.

"Yeah, they are making massive moves," Ken agreed lazily. He tossed another chip into his mouth. "The bad guys are trying to break the rules. They are sneaking around in the dark. They are using very dirty tactics to win their political games. They do not care who gets caught in the crossfire. They just want to secure their power."

Ken paused. He chewed his food. He swallowed. He shifted the conversation toward a very specific topic.

"Jasmin was working at the Imperial Gala," Ken mentioned casually. He looked at his father. His voice remained relaxed, but his words carried a very deliberate meaning. "She took a catering job. She was carrying trays in the kitchen."

Brandon finally looked away from the water. He turned his head. He looked at his son. His face grew slightly more serious. The gentle smile faded just a tiny fraction.

"I know," Brandon said softly. "She told us about the job. It paid very well. She wanted the money for her university textbooks."

Ken nodded slowly. He tapped his fingers on his fishing pole.

"It is a great job," Ken mumbled. He put on a goofy pout. "But the gala got ruined. A bunch of angry people crashed the party. There were massive explosions. The glass windows shattered everywhere. The entire ballroom turned into a massive disaster zone. People panicked."

Ken looked back at the river. He watched a small leaf float down the stream.