[h3][color=82ca9d][b]Bang Constantine[/b][/color][/h3]

A young landowner carried a bucket of water over to the back side of an apartment.

It was hard to say that it was an apartment in the first place. Hosting only one floor elevated from the ground, the apartment blended in with a surprisingly rural-looking neighborhood located a fair distance from ENMA University. While most of ENMA's surroundings were consisted of structures frequently seen in cities, it was not uncommon to see less developed towns nearby Pyramid City.

Life was eventful and uneventful in the neighborhood. Whenever big news popped up in the media, the locals would talk about it fervently before returning back to their businesses. Whenever someone decided to host something that stretched across the neighborhood, everyone would jump into it. A small and compact area that lacked anything special to it, which may have explained how uneventful the place was in the first place.

Walking down a cramped road, a man in a blue hoodie kept his hands in his pockets as he stared off blankly at an unknown distance. A young guy around his age ran to his direction as he waved at him.

Bang Constantine waved back with an idle expression.

Being a boxing champion was both easy and hard. The hard part was getting into the heads of his opponents; the easy part was simply the fact that said “getting into heads” part was almost the same throughout each boxing match. Rinse and repeat, mix and match- his strategies were completely randomized and always capitalized on not one, but at least two weaknesses an opponent had. He was not the strongest man in the world, but he certainly was not anywhere near the level of “weak.” For a regular person, he held a monstrous stamina and strength.

Yet he happened to be one of the shortest boxers in history to take the title belt of world circuits.

As he made a turn to the small apartment, the landowner, a woman in her mid twenties, had just finished washing a certain part of the building that got dirty. She smiled and waved at him.

And again, Bang Constantine waved back with an idle expression.

The lack of introductory words from those he knew were not out of respect of his different ethnicity- it was simply due to how they knew he used words minimally. Having the neighbors push out his boxing background out of the way in his daily life made walking around the rural district feel quiet and peaceful- a thing he appreciated, as it contrasted with the loud cheers right outside of the ring.

Jogging up the stairs to the elevated floor, Bang entered his place at the apartment.

And as soon as he did, he took off his shoes, stepped into the small living room and lay sprawled over the floor with the television on.

He had nothing to do for a long time, so he might as well spend said time in the one way he knew how.

Doing [u][b][i]nothing[/i][/b][/u].