In a quiet, dimly lit lounge away from the noise of the campus, Victor and Steve stood over a green felt table, the sharp click of billiard balls breaking the silence.
Steve adjusted his cue stick, chalking the tip before leaning down with practiced composure. With a single precise stroke, he pocketed three balls into the corner and side pockets simultaneously. He immediately reset his stance, lining up the next target.
"Steve," Victor spoke up, leaning casually against his own cue.
Steve offered a brief nod, his eyes remaining locked onto the white cue ball.
"Something's been bothering me," Victor continued, crossing his arms. "I need to ask you something."
"Go ahead," Steve replied quietly.
"Who do you think is actually stronger?" Victor asked, his tone dropping into a serious edge. "That Ethan kid... or our masked boy?"
Steve executed his shot. Three more balls clattered down the pockets with absolute precision. He stood up straight, brushing off his hands, and looked Victor in the eye. "Ethan."
Victor nodded slowly, taking in the answer.
Steve adjusted his stance to take his third shot, but before his cue could strike the white ball, Victor swept his own cue stick forward, clashing against Steve's and violently altering its trajectory. The cue ball drifted harmlessly off-course.
Steve froze, his eyes shifting toward Victor.
"Steve... you can't be serious," Victor said softly, staring at him.
Meanwhile, out on the track at Field B, the crowd was roaring.
BANG!
The starter pistol echoed across the stadium. The runners burst forward in a flurry of movement—except for Chris. He remained dead still in his lane.
Noticing the delay, Ethan checked his momentum, coming to a halt just a few paces in. He turned back, glaring at Chris with a mix of confusion and caution.
Chris looked up, meeting Ethan's gaze through his surgical mask. He offered a short, indifferent nod. "Go."
The moment the word left his mouth, Ethan exploded into a full sprint, tearing down the red clay. A second later, Chris surged forward, his acceleration so instantaneous it left dust swirling in his wake. In the span of a single breath, he closed the distance, pulling directly alongside Ethan.
Unbelievable... Ethan thought, his pupils dilating as he pushed his legs to their absolute limit.
This guy can keep up with me? Even now... after everything I've gained?
Ethan dug his heels into the dirt, pushing past his normal physical threshold. He surged forward, but Chris matched him stride for stride, hanging parallel to him like a phantom.
Up in the VIP bleachers, the crowd was screaming at the top of their lungs. Beast—for likely the first time in his entire life—had completely forgotten about the bucket of fried chicken in his hands, staring wide-eyed at the track.
Beside him, Benson leaned over the railing. Nearby, Lucas, Alice, Madison, and her friends stood frozen in place, their eyes locked onto the two figures tearing down the final stretch.
They crossed the finish line in a blur of wind and dust.
The photo-finish camera flashed. Chris had taken the lead by a mere fraction of an inch—half a step ahead of Ethan.
"THE WINNER OF THE 100-METER DASH IS CHRIS FROM CLASS 3-A!" the announcer screamed into the microphone, triggering an explosion of cheers from the audience.
Madison's jaw dropped in disbelief as she leaned over the barrier.
Up in the stands, Benson narrowed his eyes, his knuckles whitening against the railing.
This Chris kid... he's something else entirely. He just outran Ethan, even after Ethan's physical speed and power spiked through the roof...
This guy... Ethan thought, catching his breath as he brought himself to a stop on the track, staring at the back of the masked teenager.
Chris slowly turned around, his cold eyes locking onto Ethan for a brief second. Suddenly, his pocket vibrated. He pulled out his phone, checked the screen, and without saying another word, turned on his heel and walked away toward the exit gates.
Ethan watched him disappear into the crowd. He let out a quiet breath, thrusting his hands into his pockets, and turned away.
As he crossed the edge of the field, his eyes caught Lucas and Alice sitting close together near the lower benches, sharing a relaxed conversation. A rare, faint smile touched Ethan's lips.
He pulled out his phone and sent a quick text.
Ethan: Madison, Lucas and Alice are actually getting along pretty well.
Madison: Yeah, I see them. By the way, congratulations on taking second place!
Ethan: Thanks.
Madison: Treat?
Ethan: I think we should focus on helping Lucas with his situation first.
Madison: Okay.
Ethan: They seem to be opening up to each other. Let's leave them alone for now and wait for good news.
Madison: No way. We're going to the Aquarium tomorrow.
Ethan: Why?
Madison: We're going to hide, trail them, and spy on their date.
Ethan: That's... actually a good plan.
Madison: I know. I'm smart.
Ethan: Yes, you are.
Ethan pocketed his phone with a quiet chuckle, heading over to the storage shed to finish hauling the athletic gear.
Over the campus PA system, the final announcement echoed softly across the fading sunlight:
"Dear guests, parents, and students, thank you all for attending the opening day of our annual Sports Festival. We are deeply grateful for your presence. Today marks the official commencement of the tournament week. The final closing ceremony, along with the award announcements and trophy distributions, will take place on the final day. We look forward to seeing you all again soon!"
With the announcement concluded, the crowd slowly thinned out as visitors made their way toward the exit gates. Daisy wave goodbye to Ethan before leaving with the rest of her class, while Ethan, Madison, and the festival committee remained on the grounds until late evening, packing away banners, sports equipment, and spectator seating.
By the time all the work was finished, twilight had settled over the quiet campus. Ethan and Madison walked out of the school gates together, side by side.
"Today was exhausting," Ethan admitted, rolling his shoulders.
Madison nodded softly. "Yeah... but it was a great day."
Ethan looked over at her. "I forgot to ask earlier—how did your matches go?"
"I won," Madison replied with a subtle grin. "I got nominated to advance to the next round."
"So the tournament matches are going to keep running over the next few days?"
"Mhm," Madison confirmed. "Today was the public opening day, so outside guests were allowed. For the next few rounds, only students and faculty are allowed to watch. Outsiders won't be permitted back on campus until the final day."
Ethan nodded in understanding.
"I talked to Alice earlier," Madison added, her voice dropping into a playful tone. "She said she and Lucas are definitely getting along."
Ethan smiled slightly.
"Tomorrow, we're heading to the Aquarium," Madison reminded him, pointing a finger at him. "Be ready."
"Don't you have a match tomorrow?" Ethan asked, raising an eyebrow.
Madison shook her head. "Nope. My next match is the day after tomorrow."
Ethan nodded. "Alright. Well, I'm starving. My treat."
Madison immediately gave him a sharp thumbs-up.
Ethan couldn't help but chuckle. "You really never say no to food, do you?"
Madison hopped onto the concrete curb of the footpath, balancing carefully on the narrow edge with a smirk. "Well... whenever you offer, that's usually right when I happen to be hungry."
"Fair enough," Ethan replied. "Do you have a specific place in mind?"
"Yeah," Madison said, stepping off the curb. "That diner Alberto took us to."
Ethan paused mid-step, the memory flashing back into his mind—the image of Madison holding onto Alberto's sleeve that afternoon. A strange, tight feeling stirred in his chest. He quickly shook his head, brushing the thought away.
Whatever... I don't care.
After eating dinner, they walked through the quiet evening streets, chatting casually until they reached the gates of Madison's estate. Ethan stood by the edge of the driveway, watching her walk up the front steps.
As the heavy oak door closed behind her, Ethan stared up at the vast, darkened windows of the house, his expression turning cold.
Murphy... Ethan thought silently, turning his back to the house and stepping into the shadows of the night.