The pattern continued across genres, highlighting their contrasting tastes:

When Max praised Elder Scrolls for its open world immersion, Ming countered with the competitive structure of Genshin Impact.

When Ethan mentioned the classic strategy of StarCraft, Max jumped in to agree, while Ming insisted on the superior tactical depth of Rainbow Six Siege.

The conversation was filled with laughter and light-hearted arguments, the simple joy of finding common ground in harmless, trivial disagreements.

After nearly an hour of this friendly debate, Ethan realized he was starving. "Alright, guys, enough theory. I'm hungry. Want to grab some dinner?"

Max and Ming both nodded enthusiastically. "Definitely!"

The three new roommates, having settled their floor's security problem, walked out of the room and headed out for food.

The residents of the floor, celebrating the defeat of the bullies, cleared a path for Ethan, Max, and Ming, offering nods and gestures of respect. Ethan simply smiled and nodded back, acknowledging the easy change in their social dynamic.

As they stepped out of the dormitory section, a black man, nearly two meters tall and built like a professional athlete, stood directly in front of them, blocking their path. He wore a heavy MIT Boxing Club jacket.

"I heard you messed up my boys," the giant said, his voice deep and measured, completely devoid of the usual thug bluster. "You've got guts, bastard."

Ethan stopped, his smile fading, replaced by a cold, calculating look. "If you mean those punks who came to extort money, then yes, I kicked their asses. Do you want to try me?"

The man laughed, a short, sharp sound. "My boys in the Boxing Club are honorable. They don't attack without provocation. Don't defame them."

Ethan was about to retort, but the large man didn't wait. He moved with a professional swiftness that belied his size, launching a perfectly timed straight jab.

This was not a street fight. This was a professional. This man was Tyrone, the current MIT boxing representative, and he held a genuine ticket to the upcoming US Olympic trials.

The fight was instant and brutal. Tyrone's first few shots landed, quick jabs and crosses that jarred Ethan's head back. Despite having the knowledge of a World Champion, Ethan's body was still catching up, the daily training and the System's integration needing time to fully fuse the mental blueprint with physical execution.

Blood bloomed from Ethan's lip and cheek.

[Attention, Champion. Opponent is demonstrating superior physical conditioning and competitive experience.] The System's voice was firm, not mocking.

Ethan responded instantly, the adrenaline and the System's input working in tandem. He stopped focusing on matching Tyrone's speed and started focusing on angles and weight distribution. Ethan began weaving and slipping Tyrone's continuous assault, his daily routine paying off.

He became a moving wall. He took a heavy hook to his ribs, but the pain only sharpened his focus.

Finally, Ethan saw the opening: Tyrone's exhaustion began to show in a slight drop of his left shoulder. Ethan exploited it ruthlessly. He used a powerful straight right cross that momentarily stunned Tyrone, followed instantly by a left hook to the body, targeting the liver.

The impact was bone-jarring. Tyrone gasped, his immense frame buckling, and then he hit the ground with a heavy thud, gasping for air.

His accompanying teammates, who had been watching silently, gasped in astonishment. They knew Tyrone. They knew he was the current undisputed USA Collegiate Boxing Champion.

Ethan looked down at the fallen giant. "Ask anyone you want," Ethan said, his voice calm despite the blood running down his lip. "I just knocked out five bastards who were extorting freshmen. You look strong; you shouldn't be protecting scumbags like that."

Tyrone clutched his side, blood trickling from his mouth. He was impressed, a deep respect replacing his anger. In his life, he had never been completely overwhelmed. Fighting Ethan was like sparring with one of the best professionals in his gym—someone who aspired to the world welterweight title. Yet, the pressure he felt from Ethan was far greater. At first, he thought he could win, but little by little, Ethan became an unreachable wall he couldn't overcome.

Tyrone looked up at the two Boxing Club members who had come to find him. He knew one of the beaten thugs was his younger brother; that was why he had come to help. Then, his gaze drifted to the other students leaning out of the dormitory windows, still cheering.

Nothing made sense. This wasn't how the story had been told to him. He remembered these guys telling him that Ethan had attacked his teammates without justification, but the celebratory mood of the residents didn't align with that narrative.

"What the hell happened here?" Tyrone demanded, his voice strained but powerful, directed at the students in the windows.

The scared freshmen, emboldened by Ethan's immediate presence and the sight of Tyrone on the ground, shouted back. "They were extorting us! They tried to charge us a protection fee, and Ethan defended us!"

Tyrone looked back at his two accompanying friends, who were now glaring angrily and shouting insults and threats at the freshmen. The freshmen, however, grabbed their newfound strength, yelling back and threatening them with Ethan's presence.

Tyrone instantly realized the situation was not as his brother had painted it. He had been manipulated.

He forced himself to stand, wincing from the liver shot. He silenced his two friends with a glare. "Enough! You two, go call everyone from the club to the gym. Now."

He looked at them, his eyes narrowed with cold fury. "If I find out you lied to me and that this was about extortion, you will face my fury. You better pray this man's words aren't true."

The two friends, pale with fear, immediately scrambled to carry out the order.

Ethan watched the whole scene, giving Tyrone a slow, appreciative nod for his effort at fair governance. "I'm Ethan," he said, extending a hand to the bleeding boxer.

"Tyrone," he responded, shaking Ethan's hand firmly. The grip was shockingly strong. "I owe you an apology, Ethan Blake. It looks like I was misled."

"Problem solved," Ethan repeated with a smile, then turned to his roommates. "Come on, guys. I'm still hungry."

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