Half an hour. That was all the notice the campus needed to rearrange itself into a small, breathless arena.
Word spread fast. Students poured onto the bleachers and the grass, phones up, gossip already turning into wagers.
So ca for the spectacle... Alex versus Marcus, the unfinished fight now wrapped in regulation and a whistle.
Others ca for the sport: a proper ga between Marcus’s practiced crew and whatever ragtag classmates Alex could scrape together.
Marcus’s team na had already stuck in ten different mouths: Apex XI... trimd jerseys, synchronized warmups, the sort of practiced coldness that said they’d been coached by professionals.
Tyler ward up beside Marcus, loose and practiced; Jonah and Reese ran drills like they ant it.
Their fans weren’t subtle: whistles, shouts, a girl in a varsity jacket who kept smiling too long whenever Marcus ran by.
They moved like n who treated the ball as an extension of themselves.
One the other hand, Alex was still figuring out his lineup. He and Danny were already set... Danny was fast, sharp, and always reliable on the field.
Mike, on the other hand, never cared much for football. He laughed it off when Alex asked, promising instead,
"I’ll cheer for you guys from the stands... with Sarah. That’s more my style."
A couple more classmates who’d played competitively before gave him a green light, so the core was there.
Still, Alex was short on two players and, more importantly, a keeper.
That’s when he noticed two familiar figures crossing the ground toward him... William and Brad.
Both were solid players, William a tough defender and Brad a natural goalkeeper, but they had never exactly been friendly with him.
Alex narrowed his eyes, already bracing himself.
"Hey," William said, stopping just a few feet away. "We also want to play."
Danny raised his brows. "Really?"
"C’mon, don’t act so surprised." William’s tone was casual, but his expression had a sharp edge. "We’re from the sa class. And now... this isn’t just a ga, it’s class against class."
He could see the calculation in their eyes, the quiet scheming like a ga he hadn’t been invited to.
He didn’t trust them... but right now, he needed players more than he needed to untangle their plots.
So he kept his silence, let the mont stretch, then gave a single, asured nod.
"Fine. You’re in."
Just like that, the team was complete.
Alex was about to settle the lineup, when a soft ding echoed in his mind.
•••
[ MINI QUEST — DOMINION SYSTEM ]
Objective 1: Dominate and Win the match.
Reward: 2,000 CP
Failure: None
Objective 2: Exercise restraint even if provoked.
Reward: 3,000 CP
Failure: Can lead to expulsion from the college (triggered by administrative review).
Note: High stakes. External interest has escalated the consequences.
•••
Alex blinked, staring at the translucent screen in disbelief.
"Wow... I was going to say, generous rewards for a mini task," he muttered under his breath, "but the failure penalty... expulsion? Isn’t that a bit too much? And why would I even be expelled over a football ga?"
Lilith’s voice slid into his mind, smooth and honeyed.
"Oh, Alex... you still think this is just a simple ga? Soone out there is tugging strings, waiting for you to slip.
A little injury, a bit of chaos... and suddenly, you’re painted as the violent scholarship boy who doesn’t belong here."
Her laughter curled like smoke.
"I’ll leave it to you to figure out who’s plotting... but consider this my test too.
"Show restraint, darling. Dominate them... but without breaking a single bone."
Alex had just finished picking out his squad when a loud voice cut through the field like a blade.
"Are you planning to camp there all day?" Marcus shouted, his arms spread wide in mock disbelief. "Or did you bring your little kindergarten club just to watch us play?"
His teammates snickered, tossing their own jabs like stones.
"Don’t trip on the grass, scholar-boy."
"Better tighten those shoelaces, I don’t want to see you crying before halfti."
"Hope you brought extra goals for yourselves... cause we’re not leaving you with any."
The laughter rolled across the pitch, sharp and cocky.
From the sidelines, the crowd joined in, their voices blending into a storm of noise.
"Why are you even bothering?" one student yelled dismissively.
"This isn’t a charity match!" another jeered.
"I’m calling it already... fifteen to nothing!"
Booing followed, deep and heavy, like a wave crashing against them. It wasn’t just noise... it was a verdict, a sentence before the ga had even started.
Alex’s team stepped onto the field, steady and alert, the jeers rolling over them like noise they didn’t plan to answer... yet.
***
Few Days Ago
Marcus Steele didn’t bother slowing down. His shoes clicked hard against the polished marble of the administration building’s hall, each step fueled by humiliation and rage.
Robert and Tyler kept pace behind him, exchanging a glance but saying nothing. They had both seen the color drain from Marcus’s face when he co out of Dr. Wells’s office, and they knew better than to prod him now.
When the double doors of the president’s office ca into view, Marcus didn’t knock... he pushed them open.
Inside, the office slled faintly of old books and sandalwood polish. Heavy drapes softened the sunlight and cast the room in a muted glow.
Behind a vast oak desk sat President Gerald Pierce, an older man with neatly combed silver hair and half-moon glasses resting low on his nose.
He was writing sothing in a ledger with deliberate strokes, as though ti itself moved at his pace.
Robert and Tyler imdiately stopped short. Both bowed their heads respectfully.
"Good afternoon, President Pierce," Robert said firmly.
"Sir," Tyler echoed.
The older man looked up, a mild smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Ah, Robert, Tyler. Always polite. You make feel less like an old desk ornant in this university."
His eyes shifted to Marcus. "And you, Marcus... no greeting for today?"
Marcus stiffened, jaw tight. For a mont, the defiance itched to burst out again. But his father’s lessons about appearances whispered in the back of his mind.
Even if he thought Pierce was nothing more than a glorified caretaker for the Steele family’s influence, he forced himself to bend.
"Good afternoon, sir," he said, voice low but respectful. He didn’t bow his head, but he modulated his tone.
Pierce chuckled softly and set down his pen. "Better. Now, why don’t the three of you sit? Storming into a man’s office without knocking... bad manners, you know. You’re lucky I have no taste for formality."
Marcus sat first, pressing forward, eyes fixed on Pierce. Robert and Tyler followed, more composed but attentive.
"Sir," Marcus began, his voice sharper than he intended, "did I do sothing to offend you? To disrespect you?"
Pierce blinked, almost bemused. "Offend ? No, my boy. Why would you think that?"
Marcus clenched his hands together. "Because... because you knew. You knew about him. About that brat Alexander Hale. You knew Jas Blackwood himself called you. And yet you said nothing. You let find out from Dr. Wells instead, like so fool."
The president tilted his head, eyes twinkling with sothing unreadable. "Ah... so that’s what rattled you."
Robert and Tyler stayed quiet, though their shoulders tensed at the ntion of Blackwood’s na.
Pierce leaned back in his chair, folding his hands over his stomach.
"Yes, Jas Blackwood called . Quite directly. Not a secretary, not an assistant... himself. It was... surprising, I’ll admit."
He paused, letting the weight of his words settle. "He asked to keep an eye on young Hale. To ensure nothing... severe happened to him. That’s all."
Marcus scowled. "That’s all? Sir, you know what this ans. He’s untouchable. If we so much as..."
"Expel you?" Pierce finished for him, his voice smooth, almost kind. "No, Marcus. Listen carefully. You’re letting Wells spook you with half-truths. Jas Blackwood told to watch the boy, not to cradle him in cotton."
He tipped slightly closer, his smile turning thinner, colder. "He didn’t say I couldn’t discipline him if he crossed the line. He didn’t say I couldn’t act if he himself caused trouble. All he forbade was negligence. Do you understand?"
Marcus’s eyes narrowed, confusion and hope mingling. "So... what you’re saying is..."
"I’m saying," Pierce said, his tone dropping into sothing almost conspiratorial,
"that if Alexander Hale were to lash out... violently, in front of witnesses, if he were to prove himself a danger to this school’s harmony... then I would have no hesitation in expelling him."
He allowed a shadow of a smirk to curl across his lips, letting the weight of his words sink in.
"Jas Blackwood cannot complain if the boy brings it upon himself."
He leaned back slightly. "Not that he could intervene even if he wanted to... he’s already entangled in matters far bigger than you realize. But that, my young friends, is a story for another day."
For a heartbeat, silence reigned. Then Marcus shifted in his chair, the first real smile tugging at his lips since morning.
"That’s... clever," he admitted grudgingly.
Robert spoke for the first ti, his voice asured. "So, if we provoke him... if he strikes first..."
"Exactly," Pierce said, his voice light as if explaining a simple ga of chess. "You needn’t even provoke him openly. He is impulsive, yes? Hot-blooded. Prideful. Create the right scenario. Push him toward a public mistake. Then, my hands are clean. I will simply be enforcing rules."
Tyler nodded slowly, though unease flickered across his face. "And if we fail?"
Pierce smiled again, grandfatherly warmth slipping back into his tone. "Then you’ve simply played a ga of football with a classmate. What’s the harm in that?"
Marcus laughed, bitter but charged with renewed confidence. "You make it sound so simple."
"It is that simple, son." The president’s gaze sharpened, just for a mont. "But rember this: do not underestimate him. A man like Jas Blackwood doesn’t waste his breath on nobodies. Hale may be more than he appears. Test him... but don’t take him lightly."
The warning slid past Marcus like water off stone. His mind was already working, crafting scenarios.
A brawl on the field? A challenge that Alex couldn’t refuse? Sothing public, undeniable. Yes... that would do.
He stood abruptly. "Thank you, sir. You’ve been most helpful."
Pierce inclined his head, grandfatherly again, as if the entire conversation had been about grades or attendance. "Of course, my boy. I only want what’s best for my students."
But as Marcus turned, Robert and Tyler trailing him, Pierce’s smile lingered... too sharp, too knowing.
The door shut behind them with a heavy thud, and for a long mont the office was silent except for the ticking of the old grandfather clock. Pierce finally leaned back, eyes narrowing toward the window.
"Let’s see what kind of beast you really are... to catch the attention of Jas Blackwood, Alexander Hale," he murmured, voice low and dangerous.
User Comments
0 comments from readers