A few hours before Sam collapsed—
John stood alone inside the Hell Battleground, searching for answers.
His thoughts were restless.
Taarush.
That name kept echoing in his head.
"What kind of martial art does he use…?" John muttered to himself.
Nothing made sense.
His movements. His control. His calmness.
It didn't feel like something a normal student would learn.
Frustration built inside him.
Without thinking further, John stepped into the battle ring.
The arena was empty.
Silent.
He walked to the center and sat down, crossing his legs. His eyes slowly closed as he began to regulate his breathing.
Inhale.
Exhale.
The wind brushed lightly across his skin. His senses sharpened.
"There's a sweet smell… someone probably dropped candy near the arena," he thought.
Every small detail became clear.
The silence deepened.
Then—
John stood up.
His stance shifted instantly.
Focused.
Sharp.
He began shadowboxing.
His punches sliced through the air with force. Each strike carried weight. His movements weren't random—they flowed like a rhythm, almost like a dance.
Controlled.
Precise.
Dangerous.
From a distance, Ram entered the hall.
He paused at the entrance, watching quietly.
He hated this place—the idea of people fighting for money and entertainment disgusted him.
But John?
John was different.
"Damn… he's strong," Ram thought. "He keeps surprising me every time."
John's eyes were still closed.
Focused entirely on his senses.
Suddenly—
A pen flew toward him from his blind side.
Without hesitation—
John caught it mid-air.
Effortless.
He turned slightly and finally opened his eyes.
"I knew it," John smirked. "But seriously… how many pens do you even carry?"
Ram shrugged. "Whatever. Let's go outside. I'm bored."
"That's new coming from you," John said, stretching his arms. "Fine. I need a clear mind anyway."
They walked through the corridors, casually scanning the surroundings.
Something felt off.
Too quiet.
Then—
A loud sound echoed.
THUD.
Both of them froze.
They looked at each other—
—and ran.
When they reached the stairs, they stopped.
Sam.
He was on the ground.
Blood spread across the tiles beneath him.
And standing near him—
Taarush.
For a moment, everything went still.
"What the hell…?" John muttered.
Without wasting time, they rushed forward and lifted Sam.
"Damn… what does this guy even eat?" John grunted as they struggled with his weight.
Taarush didn't say anything.
He just helped.
Quietly.
From above—
Lord stood at the staircase.
Watching.
He saw everything.
Without a word, he turned around and walked back to his room.
His expression didn't change.
But his mind was already moving.
Soon, members under Sam began gathering.
Heavy footsteps filled the hallway.
Students moved aside.
They didn't want trouble.
Inside the room—
Lord stood near the window, holding his coffee.
His back faced them.
Silence.
"So… who did this?"
No answer.
The air tightened.
"I asked you something," he said again, slightly turning his head. "Or are you deaf?"
One of them finally spoke.
"Sir… there was someone. A monster. He appeared when Sam defeated the dealer…"
Lord didn't react.
"But…?"
"But it turned into a one-sided fight. And… Sam got stabbed."
Silence.
"How did he look?"
"Tall. Broad shoulders. Dressed in black… like a fighter."
Lord's thoughts sharpened.
"There's only one person it could be…" he thought.
"Leave," he said calmly.
They didn't wait.
Alone again, Lord sat down.
He opened a drawer.
Inside was a photograph.
He stared at it.
His grip tightened.
Meanwhile—
Inside the school dormitory—
Sam lay on the bed.
Bandages wrapped tightly around his chest.
John leaned against the wall.
"So… anyone want to explain how Sam got stabbed?" he asked casually.
Ram and Taarush remained silent.
Footsteps approached.
More of Sam's men entered the room.
John smirked.
"Wow… even his followers are worried now."
Ram didn't respond.
He was watching Sam closely.
Something felt off.
Sam's eyes opened.
Slowly.
Then—
He pushed himself up.
Everyone froze.
"How is he even moving…?" someone whispered.
Sam swung his legs off the bed.
His voice was low—but steady.
"If that bastard didn't appear out of nowhere… he'd be the one on his knees."
Shock spread across the room.
He had lost blood.
He had been stabbed.
And yet—
He was still thinking about the next fight.
Taarush spoke quietly:
"I guess… there are people stronger than him."
Sam looked at him.
For a second—
Silence.
Then Sam sat on the floor, ignoring the pain, and closed his eyes.
He began to meditate.
"I need to get serious… No more mistakes."
His breathing slowed.
Focused.
Controlled.
A nurse rushed in.
"What are you doing?! You're still bleeding!" she shouted, trying to stop the blood seeping through his bandages.
Sam grabbed his shirt and stood up.
Everyone stepped back.
His presence alone filled the room.
His shadow stretched across the floor.
Heavy.
Dominant.
Ram placed a hand on Taarush's shoulder.
"I don't know why… but that guy will come back stronger," he said quietly.
"You should be ready."
Taarush forced a small smile.
"Yeah… I guess."
But inside—
"I don't want to fight that monster again…"
The nurse turned toward everyone and shouted:
"OUT! All of you! Do you want injections too?!"
That was enough.
Everyone rushed out.
Especially Ram—
who ran faster than anyone.
Not because of Sam.
But because of needles.