The silence in the hallway was a taut wire, stretched to its breaking point. The only sounds were Elijah's ragged, frightened breaths and the low, ugly chuckle emanating from Brody Hendricks. The metallic grip on Elijah's shirt tightened, the fabric straining.
"For someone who's always trying to establish dominance," a calm, clear voice cut through the tension, "you sure have a predictable taste in victims."
The wire snapped.
Brody's head swiveled, his expression one of pure, unadulterated incredulity. His eyes, narrowed and venomous, landed on Ark, who stood at the mouth of the corridor, his posture deceptively relaxed. Chloe and the two cronies stared, their laughter dying in their throats, replaced by open-mouthed shock. Elijah's eyes, wide with terror, now held a flicker of desperate, impossible hope.
"Greystone," Brody said, the name a low, dangerous growl. He released Elijah, who slumped against the lockers with a gasp. Brody took a step, then another, his full attention now locked on this unforeseen disruption. "It seems us being in the same class has made you grow a pair. You've got a sarcastic mouth on you now?"
Ark didn't flinch as Brody closed the distance, the space between them shrinking from yards to feet. The old, familiar fear was a cold stone in his gut, but it was now encased in a new, harder shell of resolve. The System's quest glowed in his mind, a countdown ticking away. There was no retreat.
"I'm just shocked," Ark replied, his voice even, devoid of the tremor that usually accompanied addressing his tormentor. "I didn't think a metalhead like you had the processing power to understand sarcasm."
The insult, so simple yet so perfectly aimed at Brody's intellectual insecurity, landed with the force of a physical blow. A flush of ugly red crept up Brody's neck. He shoved his face inches from Ark's, his breath hot and angry. "You wanna die, Null? Is that it? You've finally lost your pathetic little mind?"
Instead of cowering, Ark held his ground, his enhanced Perception taking in every detail of Brody's enraged face—the dilated pupils, the flared nostrils, the way his jaw muscles clenched and unclenched. This wasn't the blustering bully from the schoolyard; this was a cornered animal, dangerous but predictable.
"Instead of forcing someone weaker to give you their points," Ark stated, his voice rising to carry down the hallway, drawing the attention of other students who had begun to linger, sensing a spectacle, "you should earn them. Like someone with actual skill. Like a real man."
He paused, letting the challenge hang in the air. He could feel the eyes of the gathering crowd, could see the confusion and dawning anticipation on their faces.
"I, Ark Greystone, formally challenge Brody Hendricks to a sanctioned duel in the Gymnasium. A wager of fifty points."
The silence that followed was profound, broken only by a collective, sharp intake of breath. Then, Brody's smirk returned, wider and more vicious than before. It was the expression of a predator who had just been offered a free meal.
"You're so dead, Greystone," he sneered, the words a promise. He tapped his wrist-comm, accepting the challenge notification that had just pinged on both their devices. "So unbelievably dead."
---
Across the campus, in the advanced theoretical energy lab of Class A, Elster McQueen was listening to a complex lecture on psionic resonance fields when a soft chime from her wrist-comm distracted her. She glanced down discreetly. A school-wide alert.
Duel Notification: Ark Greystone vs. Brody Hendricks. Location: Main Gymnasium. Wager: 50 Points.
Her blood ran cold. Her emerald eyes widened, the intricate equations on the board before her forgotten. Ark, what have you done?
Simultaneously, in a controlled combustion chamber where Class A students were practicing fine manipulation of their pyrokinesis, Kyle Olsen was shaping a flame into a complex helix. His comm buzzed. He looked, his confident grin faltering, then vanishing completely.
"Professor! I need to go. It's an emergency," he blurted out, not waiting for a reply before dashing from the room, a trail of dissipating heat in his wake.
They converged in the hallway outside the science wing, their faces mirror images of panic and confusion.
"Did you see—?" Elster began.
"He challenged Brody?" Kyle finished, his voice tight with disbelief. "Has he gone completely insane? He doesn't have a power! Brody will tear him apart!"
Without another word, they broke into a run, their hearts hammering a frantic, synchronized rhythm of dread.
---
By the time Ark and Brody's group arrived at the Main Gymnasium, a crowd had already begun to form. The notification had acted as a digital siren's call, summoning students from all years, eager for the day's first dose of entertainment and schadenfreude. Whispers rippled through the gathering mass.
"Is that the Null from the exam?"
"He challenged a Metal-Skin?Suicide."
"Fifty points?That's his entire starter stash, isn't it?"
"Easy money.Betting on Hendricks."
Ark walked calmly to the center of the marked dueling circle, his mind a fortress of focus. He ignored the murmurs, the pointing fingers, the derisive laughter. He was aware of Elijah hovering at the edge of the crowd, his face a pale mask of worry. He tuned it all out, his world narrowing to the hulking, sneering figure of Brody Hendricks standing opposite him.
Brody cracked his neck, the sound unnaturally loud in the cavernous space. "I gotta hand it to you, Greystone," he boomed, playing to the audience. "You've finally grown a pair, challenging me, of all people!" His laughter was a harsh, mocking bark that echoed. "It's almost admirable. In a pathetic, stupid kind of way."
Ark simply watched him, his expression unreadable. The System was feeding him a constant, silent stream of data.
[Opponent Analysis: Hendricks, Brody. Agitation Level: High. Power Core Active: Metal Absorption. Primary Attack Pattern: Direct, Brute Force. Stamina Reserve: 100%.]
"Enough talking," Ark said, his voice cutting through Brody's performance. "Let's duel."
The words were barely out of his mouth when a frantic voice cut through the gym.
"Ark!"
Elster and Kyle burst through the ring of spectators, their faces flushed with exertion and alarm. Kyle rushed to his side. "Bro! What's going on here? What are you thinking?"
Brody's temper, already on a hair trigger, exploded. "CAN'T YOU SEE, YOU PIPSQUEAK?" he roared, spittle flying from his lips. "YOUR USELESS FRIEND IS ABOUT TO GET IT! HARD!"
The public insult, the raw fury—it was all a performance, a display of dominance for the crowd. And it was his undoing. In his anger, Brody was wasting energy, burning through his composure. Ark watched, cold and analytical. Good. Get angrier. Get sloppier.
Brody reached into a pouch on his belt, pulling out a small, dense ingot of a dull grey alloy. He clenched it in his fist, and Ark watched, fascinated and repulsed, as the metal seemed to liquefy and flow up his arm. It spread, coating his hands in solid, articulated gauntlets of iron, then sheathing his boots in heavy, grounded metal. He slammed his fists together with a deafening CLANG that reverberated through the gym.
The crowd oohed and aahed. It was a flashy, intimidating display.
[Opponent Update: Primary limbs fortified. Defense increased. Mobility slightly decreased. Stamina Drain: Initiated.]
Every eye was fixed on the circle. Bets were being placed via comms in a flurry of silent activity. The odds were overwhelmingly, predictably, in Brody's favor.
With a guttural roar, Brody charged. He wasn't fast, but he was powerful, a battering ram of flesh and metal. He didn't feint or strategize; he simply ran straight at Ark, then used the solid metal soles of his feet to launch himself into a powerful, arcing jump. He soared through the air, his right, iron-clad fist raised high above his head, aiming to bring it down like a meteor on Ark's skull.
It was a move designed to end the fight in one, spectacularly brutal blow.
Time seemed to dilate for Ark. His Perception, enhanced to 12, combined with the System's cold analysis, painted the trajectory of the attack in his mind as a clear, red vector. He saw the angle of descent, the point of impact, the distribution of Brody's weight. He didn't need superhuman speed; he needed precise timing.
At the last possible microsecond, as Brody's shadow fell over him, Ark took a single, fluid step to the side, pivoting on the ball of his foot.
BOOM!
Brody's fist hammered into the reinforced gym floor where Ark had been standing. The impact was colossal, sending a shockwave through the ground and kicking up a cloud of dust and pulverized polymer. The crowd gasped, some flinching back from the sheer force.
As the dust settled, Brody was left kneeling in a small, cratered dent, his fist embedded in the floor. He looked up, his face a contorted mask of rage and confusion. Ark stood a few feet away, perfectly calm, having moved with an economy of motion that seemed impossible.
"Stand still, you coward!" Brody snarled, wrenching his fist free with a screech of metal on polymer.
"'Coward' is the insult of a man who can't land a hit," Ark replied, his voice calm, almost conversational. "I'm not at fault that you're too slow."
The verbal jab, delivered with such detached coolness, was more effective than any physical blow. Brody saw the smirks on some of the faces in the crowd. He was being made a fool of. His anger boiled over into a blind, consuming fury.
He advanced again, swinging wild, powerful hooks and jabs. But each swing was telegraphed, each step heavy and predictable. Ark weaved and dodged, his movements a study in efficiency. He wasn't faster than the blows; he was simply never where the blows landed. He used minimal footwork, subtle shifts of his weight, and an almost preternatural understanding of Brody's rhythm to avoid the onslaught.
For minutes, the dance continued. Brody, the enraged bull, snorting and charging. Ark, the matador, calm and untouchable. The crowd's initial bloodlust began to wane, replaced by a dawning respect for the "Null's" astonishing reflexes and a growing ridicule for Brody's futile efforts.
"Fight me, you worm! Stop running!" Brody bellowed, his chest heaving. Sweat plastered his hair to his forehead. The constant maintenance of the metal armor and the wild, energy-expending swings were taking their toll.
[Opponent Update: Stamina Reserve: 42%. Agitation Level: Critical. Attack Pattern: Becoming Erratic.]
Seeing his taunts having no effect, Brody changed tactics. He stopped charging and held out his hands. From his metal gauntlets, a volley of sharp, foot-long spikes shot forth, whistling through the air towards Ark.
This was new. This was dangerous.
A ripple of excitement went through the crowd. This was a real power display.
Ark's mind went into overdrive. The System highlighted the trajectories, but there were too many, too fast. He couldn't just step aside; he had to move. His body reacted, guided by a fusion of his own heightened senses and the System's tactical overlays. He didn't just run; he became a blur of motion, zigzagging between the projectiles in a display of acrobatic agility that left the audience breathless. He cartwheeled over one, slid under another, his body bending and twisting in ways that defied his previously known physical limitations.
Brody, enraged by the continued evasion, fired more spikes, recklessly, wildly. Some flew towards the edges of the crowd. A senior with telekinesis calmly deflected a spike aimed at her face. Another student with a personal forcefield let one shatter harmlessly against it. The recklessness turned the crowd's amusement into murmurs of disapproval.
This was the opening. The critical mistake. Brody was panicking, burning through his remaining stamina at an astronomical rate.
Ark checked the System one last time.
[Opponent Update: Stamina Reserve: 18%. Metal Fortification Weakening.]
Now.
He stopped dodging. He planted his feet, and for the first time, he advanced.
A wave of surprise passed through the spectators. Elster clutched Kyle's arm, her knuckles white. Kyle stared, his mouth agape. Elijah watched, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.
Ark felt it then—a surge of energy, not from the System, but from within himself. The Foundational Grinding, the level-ups, the +1 to Strength. It was a tangible force coiling in his legs, his core, his arms. He let it flow, feeling the power of his own, hard-won physicality.
He dashed forward, a stark contrast to Brody's lumbering charges. He was a dart, not a hammer. Brody, startled by the sudden aggression, fired another spike, but Ark was already inside its trajectory. He ducked under Brody's swinging arm, his eyes locked on the System-highlighted vulnerabilities—the unarmored stomach, the exposed jaw, the back of the knees.
He struck.
His first, a piston-driven jab, sank into Brody's solar plexus. The air left Brody's lungs in a pained whoosh. Before Brody could even register the blow, a sharp, rising uppercut connected with his jaw, snapping his head back with a sickening crack.
Brody staggered, his metal armor flickering, becoming less solid as his concentration broke. Ark didn't let up. He moved behind him, a swift, precise kick to the back of each knee. The joint ligaments, unprepared for the force, buckled. Brody cried out, falling to his knees.
The gym was utterly silent, save for Brody's pained gasps. The bully was on his knees, defenseless, his power failing.
Ark stood before him. He didn't gloat. He didn't speak. He simply chambered his right fist, putting every ounce of his Strength 6, every iota of his newfound will, into one final, decisive blow.
He drove his fist into Brody's chest.
It wasn't the impact of metal on flesh, but of flesh on flesh, empowered by a will of iron. The force was immense, lifting Brody off his knees and launching him backward. He flew through the air, a tumbling mass of limbs, before crashing to the ground and skidding uncontrollably across the polished floor, finally coming to a bone-jarring stop as he slammed back-first into the far wall. The impact echoed through the gym, and a web of cracks spread across the reinforced surface.
Silence.
For a long, suspended moment, no one moved. No one breathed.
Then, a single, slow clap started from somewhere in the crowd. It was joined by another, and another, until the gymnasium erupted into a thunderous roar of applause and shocked cheers. The whispers became shouts of praise for the underdog, the Null who had defied every expectation. Boos and jeers were directed at the crumpled, moaning form of Brody Hendricks.
His cronies and Chloe, their faces pale with horror and humiliation, rushed to his side, frantically trying to help him stand. He shoved them away weakly, his ego more bruised than his body.
Ark stood in the center of the circle, his chest heaving, not from exhaustion, but from the sheer, overwhelming rush of victory. He looked at his hands, the knuckles red and already swelling. They were the hands of a fighter.
He saw Elster and Kyle pushing through the crowd towards him, their expressions a chaotic mix of shock, worry, and dawning, immense pride. He saw Elijah, who was beaming, tears of relief and admiration in his eyes.
A notification, soft and triumphant, appeared in his vision.
[Quest Complete: Establish Dominance.]
[Rewards: 200 EXP awarded. Reputation within Class B has increased. Skill: [Basic Combat Analysis] unlocked.]
He had done it. He had taken his first, real step out of the shadows. The serpent had tasted blood, and it was hungry for more.