Don, Starboy, and the crowd around them all turned toward the source of the voice. From behind a small group of onlookers, people began to part, revealing an older man with graying hair, a balding crown, and a thick mustache that sat prominently on his chubby, wrinkled face.
He wore a brown suit that looked a little too tight around his waist, and as he strode forward, his face was a mix of irritation and forced authority.
"Who's that?" soone in the crowd murmured, clearly confused by the man's sudden arrival.
"That's Dean Sanchez," another voice replied. "He used to be a superhero. The Echo."
A few more people nodded in recognition, the murmurs spreading through the gathering.
Don stood still, watching the older man approach. He kept his expression steady, unbothered. As far as he was concerned, he hadn't done anything wrong.
Sure, the pavent was cracked, and so furniture had been scattered, but considering the situation, it wasn't anything too extre. Still, the presence of an authority figure made sense given the commotion.
In the corner of his eye, Don glanced at Starboy. He half-expected so kind of reaction, maybe an acknowledgnt of the Dean's arrival or even a sign of frustration.
But Starboy wasn't paying attention to the Dean at all. His face was still twisted with anger as he dusted off his suit, the remnants of white debris from the pavent clinging stubbornly to his golden outfit.
Dean Sanchez finally stopped once he reached the open space where the confrontation had taken place. The crowd around him fell silent as he took a mont to scan the scene—the cracked concrete, the overturned chairs, the crowd of students still recording on their phones.
His gaze shifted from Starboy to Don and back again before he spoke.
"What's going on here?" the Dean asked, his tone authoritative, though not quite as sharp as one might expect.
Starboy, without even looking at the Dean, replied in a tone that carried not a hint of respect, "Just a little friendly exchange between mbers of the Elite Hero Program."
The Dean's eyes lingered on Starboy for a mont, then shifted to Don, who stood with his arms crossed, calm and composed. 'Hmm, so he's also in the program?' the Dean thought. 'Strange. I don't rember him being on the profiles the board sent . Must not be important. Starboy probably picked him as an easy target to show off.
Poor fellow.'
The Dean hadn't been present for the entirety of the faceoff, and with Starboy's reputation preceding him, it wasn't hard for Sanchez to jump to his own conclusions.
From where he stood, it looked like he'd arrived just in ti to stop the situation before things got too out of hand—before Starboy could harm Don.
Sanchez sighed internally, already weighing the consequences of how he'd handle this. 'If I co down hard on Starboy, the board will give hell for it.'
Starboy's status as the city's rising star, not to ntion his connections, made him untouchable in many ways. And then there was the matter of the school's image.
Starboy brought in attention, sponsorships, and revenue—all things Sanchez was in no position to jeopardize.
Clearing his throat, the Dean put on a show of authority, knowing exactly where this was headed. "A 'friendly exchange' that led to the damage of school property," he said sternly, glancing over the cracked pavent and broken furniture for effect. "Both of you, follow to my office."
He barely gave Don more than a passing glance, clearly dismissing him as less important. Don simply nodded, thinking, 'I guess he has a point.' He didn't realize the Dean's true motivations, assuming they were just going to get a talking-to about the property damage.
Starboy scoffed under his breath, clearly unimpressed. With a snap of his fingers, his bodyguards—who had been standing off to the side, tense and ready—imdiately moved to surround him.
He adjusted his disheveled suit and hair, muttering sothing under his breath as he followed the Dean without a word.
Just as Don was about to turn and follow, he heard rapid footsteps approaching behind him. "Hey, man, wait up!"
It was Donald, running up with a worried expression on his face. He stopped just beside Don, out of breath but determined. "Are you gonna be alright? This whole thing started because of … maybe I should co with you."
Don shook his head with a small, reassuring smile. "It's cool, man. I'm the one who suggested the challenge. No point in both of us getting in trouble."
Donald hesitated but didn't argue. "You sure? I an, I feel responsible."
"If anything serious cos up, I'll let you know. But I think we're just gonna have to pay for the damage," Don said with a shrug. "You can help with that if you want."
Donald nodded quickly. "Yeah, of course, man. Just let know."
With that, Don gave him a small nod before turning to follow the Dean. As he walked, sothing shifted in the corner of his vision.
———
**Ding!**
———
A system prompt flashed into view, its words clear:
———
**Massive Aura Boost Gained**
** 999 Aura.**
**Total Aura:** 1,942
———
Don blinked, keeping his face neutral as he read the notification. He wasn't exactly sure what had triggered the boost, but he assud it was putting soone of Starboy's status in his place.
He pushed the notification aside ntally as he continued walking, not thinking too much on it for now.
Behind him, the crowd slowly began to disperse, though their excited whispers and murmurs remained. Phones were still out, recording, and the aftermath of the confrontation had already gone viral across the city.
———
Inside Dean Sanchez's office, the atmosphere was distinctly professional, with hints of sothing more suited to a hero university.
The room had the usual trappings of a Dean's office—large wooden desk, shelves lined with books, plaques, and frad certificates.
However, amidst the standard decor were glass cases displaying old hero morabilia: a tarnished shield, a gauntlet with scorch marks, and photos of the Dean in his pri as *The Echo*, striking heroic poses with forr teammates.
A small holo-screen embedded in the wall behind him flickered, showing a live feed of campus activities.
Don and Starboy sat on separate chairs, facing the Dean from across his imposing desk. Starboy's golden suit was still slightly disheveled from the fight, and Don's calm expression hadn't shifted since they entered.
The two boys sat in silence while Dean Sanchez, seated behind his desk, relaxed his stern expression slightly and let out a weary sigh.
The Dean's eyes settled on Don. "So, you're also in the program?" he asked, rubbing his temple. "The agency failed to alert of this."
Don sat up a little straighter, answering respectfully, "Yes, sir. I joined the program late."
The Dean nodded absently, looking thoughtful. "I see, I see." Inwardly, though, his thoughts wandered: 'For the agency not to inform us in advance, they probably don't expect us to give him any special treatnt. He must be unimportant. But for Starboy, they were very clear…' Another sigh escaped him.
Turning to face Starboy, the Dean's tone grew a little sharper. "That doesn't change the fact that you, Timothy, should know better. Especially since you've been in the program far longer and hold a more defined position. You're his senior, and it's your responsibility to ensure these kinds of… mistakes don't happen."
Starboy gave no indication he was listening, idly wiping the dust from his suit, his expression still one of simring irritation.
Before the Dean could continue, a faint **buzz** echoed from the device on his desk. A feminine voice, his secretary's, ca through the speakers. "Dean, there's a Mrs. Dugarte and a Miss Claire here to see their clients."
Dean Sanchez's frown deepened slightly. 'Mrs. Dugarte? I'm not surprised she's here, but a lawyer too?' He wondered. 'Young heroes these days… they really are well-off. Tis have changed.'
He composed himself and replied, "Let them in." Forcing a smile as wide as he could manage, he turned to face the door as it clicked open.
The first to enter was Miss Claire, gliding into the room with quiet elegance. She wore her usual professional yet vintage attire: a black dress with lace accents, her raven-black hair pinned neatly, and her gray eyes sharp yet distant.
The dark hues of her outfit contrasted against her pale skin, making her presence both striking and serene. She walked over to Don's side without a word.
The second woman to enter was equally beautiful but in a completely different style. Mrs. Dugarte's black suit-like jumpsuit exposed a daring amount of cleavage, with the neckline plunging all the way to her waist, held together by delicate gold accents.
Her short blonde hair frad her fair, unblemished face. Rosy cheeks, bold red lipstick, pearl earrings, and a gold necklace completed her look, along with piercing green eyes that imdiately commanded the room's attention.
She strode confidently over to Starboy, and for the first ti since their encounter, Starboy's face changed—his bravado slipping into sothing much closer to worry.
Miss Claire, now standing beside Don, offered him a reassuring nod. Don instinctively began to stand, about to offer her his seat, but before he could fully rise, her soft voice stopped him.
"No need," she said, her tone sensual yet professional. "I'm sure the Dean here won't keep us long."
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