Trouble in StudyVille

Having retrieved their books, the three boys make their way to their preferred study spot - a secluded table in the corner of the library surrounded by study-friendly chairs.

Settling into their seats, the boys immerse themselves in their work. Max muses over his options as he reads, while Randy diligently writes notes from his chosen text. Alex, who has noticed since his awakening that his mind more readily retains important information, absorbs the details about the Arcane Library with supernatural efficiency.

The boys make significant progress in their studies until the peaceful atmosphere shatters beneath the sound of heavy footsteps. Looking up from his book, Alex spots three approaching figures, one painfully familiar.

Derek strides forward like a quintessential bully, his orange robe adorned with the Zenith Order emblem on its shoulders. Behind him follow two more students, each bearing the same Zenith Order emblems. One wears a light blue uniform, the other dark black, and both walk with expressions of disgust, as if sharing air with Alex and his friends somehow poisons them.

"Well, well, if it isn't the three little piggies. Thought you could smarten up and do something useful for once, huh?" Derek sneers, his insults cutting through the library's scholarly atmosphere.

"Leave us alone, Derek. We're just trying to study, and besides, you know there aren't rules about where to sit in the library - it's a place for everyone," Alex responds firmly, setting down his book to meet Derek's gaze with transformed eyes that gleam dangerously.

"I mean no harm by coming near my fellow students," Derek's voice drips with mock courtesy. "I only came to see if a pig in makeup was still a pig, and who would have guessed? Even if your eyes change, you're still filth from the slums. Pack your bags - we want this spot, and no, I don't care if you're allowed to sit here. I want it."

Derek's hubris radiates as he attempts to claim their table, his noble status worn like armor.

'Is this guy stupid? Why would he try to mess with us here instead of offering a proper duel if he wants to fight things out?' Alex's mind races through possibilities. 'But that wouldn't look good for him - a noble with mastery over his bloodline against three newly awakened students. No, someone must have put him up to this.' Alex concludes, recognizing the calculated nature of this confrontation.

"Look man if you got told to mess with us from one of your senior cause you couldn't beat some 'low life's it ain't are fault your trash." Alex spits back

Hearing Alex's words Dereck's face turns red in anger as Alex clearly hit the nail on top of the head.

"Look here commoners you should be happy to give your seat to the heir of Ignivars." The boy in the light blue uniform says pointing his finger at them.

"Heir?" Max scoffs, his enhanced frame rising from his chair with deliberate slowness. "Ok, mister Heir, if you're so tough, let's go a couple rounds in the ring. See who's really tough then." Max towers over Derek, his newly strengthened bones lending him an imposing presence that even nobles can't ignore.

Derek holds his ground, refusing to back down as their eyes lock in silent combat. The air between them crackles with tension, literal sparks of fire dancing in Derek's gaze while Max's blood-enhanced frame casts an imposing shadow over the would-be bully. The library's ethereal light seems to dim around them, as if even it senses the brewing storm.

Not willing to let their leader face intimidation alone, Derek's lackeys move to flank Max's sides. Their unified stance adds, pressure on Max.

"You think you three little snowflakes are enough to take me on?" Max's grin splits his face with fierce confidence, his fighting spirit blazing brighter than Derek's flames. His knuckles crack with deliberate menace as he flexes his enhanced fingers, each pop echoing through the suddenly silent library.

"A beast only knows how to flaunt his muscles," Derek sneers, his voice carrying the weight of generations of noble contempt. "A true elite can wield all facets of war, not just flashy powers. You best learn your place soon, before you get burned." With theatrical precision, he snaps his fingers, conjuring a flame that dances across his palm like a living ember, its light reflecting dangerously in his eyes.

Watching the confrontation unfold, Alex rises from his seat with calculated grace, positioning himself at Max's side in a show of solidarity. His transformed eyes gleam with tactical awareness as he assesses their situation.

In a subtle movement masked by Max's imposing presence, Alex activates his emblem. The device hums against his chest as he sends a silent alert to Mr. Brunswick, the librarian's emblem receiving his warning like a ghostly whisper. The familiar weight of the metal against his skin provides quiet reassurance.

'That should stop this before it escalates,' Alex thinks, satisfied as he notes how the three bullies remain fixated on Max's intimidating display. Their tunnel vision works to his advantage, their noble arrogance blinding them to his strategic maneuvering.

"Back up, man, unless you want these hands," Randy warns as he confronts the bully in his light blue uniform.

"I should be saying the same thing to you," the bully retorts, stepping up into Randy's face.

Tension rises as everyone squares up, forgetting they're in the library. Max's fists twitch in anticipation.

Lighting crackles between the fingers of the light blue uniformed bully, while the dark uniformed one gathers a sea of darkness in his hand, both preparing for conflict.

Alex hoping it won't come to a fight - for they don't need more rumors circulating about how three commoners fear no one and will fight anywhere, even in a sacred study space like the library. Still, if it must come to blows, he's ready, taking a more athletic stance in case he needs to throw hands.

However, before things can escalate further, a voice rings out: "What is going on over here?!"

Heads turned collectively as Mr. Brunswick approached, his measured steps echoing through the library's silence.

"Well, we were just discussing our bloodlines and their mechanics, you know," the light-blue uniformed bully stammered, his voice wavering.

"Enough," Mr. Brunswick's voice thundered. "Tell me what really happened, or I'll reduce all your class rankings immediately."

Alex stepped forward, his voice steady. "We were studying, Mr. Brunswick, when these three approached. They began insulting us, demanding we vacate the table, claiming it as their own. When things grew heated, I paged you."

"That's false!" The dark-uniformed bully protested, his face flushing. "We merely asked to share the space, but they became confrontational, ordering us to leave."

Mr. Brunswick surveyed the six students before him, releasing a weary sigh. "Consider this - I know Alex and his friends requested books for study. You three haven't approached my desk once. Tell me, if you truly came to study, why insist on this particular table when you possess no materials?"

The statement hung heavy in the air, highlighting a fundamental truth about the library's operation. By ancient tradition and magical decree, students must consult the librarian for their research needs. This system, an enchantment woven into the Arcane Library's very foundations, draws upon the consolidated knowledge of countless past scholars. Their collective wisdom, bound into a single magical inquiry system, ensures each student receives precisely the information they seek. Random browsing proves futile - the librarian's guidance is essential, their insight magically attuned to match students with their required materials.

Clearly caught in their deception, the three bullies scrambled to salvage their dignity. Derek stepped forward, his voice carrying a desperate edge of false sincerity.

"You see, Professor, we simply needed to discuss our upcoming classes and combat strategies. This spot would have been perfect for our planning session."

Mr. Brunswick's gaze swept across the library, taking in the numerous empty tables scattered throughout the space. His patience, already wearing thin, finally snapped.

"Perfect, you say? This exact spot where these three students - whom you've previously harassed - happened to be studying?" His voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. "Get out of my library, and stop insulting my intelligence. Each of you starts with negative five points in your class rankings. Now leave!"

The bullies fled, their hasty departure disturbing the library's carefully maintained tranquility. Once they'd gone, Mr. Brunswick turned to Alex, Max, and Randy, his expression softening though still stern. He straightened his collar, which had become disheveled during his outburst.

"While I appreciate your restraint in avoiding physical confrontation, and I acknowledge you weren't the instigators, you cannot allow these conflicts to infiltrate the library's sanctuary. Consider this your warning - if I witness similar disruptions again, you three will face consequences as well. Understood?"

"Yes, sir," they responded in unison.

"Good. Now out with you all - let peace return to my domain." Mr. Brunswick released a weary sigh, adjusting his rumpled shirt as he attempted to compose himself.

The three boys dutifully returned their books to the drop-off station before heading toward the exit. However, their timing proved unfortunate - all six students found themselves clustered outside the library's entrance, tension crackling through the air as their gazes met.

'Well, this couldn't be more awkward,' Alex mused as the six of them stood frozen in a tableau of mutual hostility, the tension between them thick enough to cut with a blade.

Derek's face contorted with barely contained rage, his aristocratic features twisting into an ugly sneer. "Don't think this ends here, you worthless commoners. Once classes begin, we'll see who truly deserves their rank. Just you wait." He spat on the ground, the gesture dripping with contempt before he turned away, his disgust radiating from every movement.

"Oh, we'll be waiting, Derek," Max called after him, his voice carrying a dangerous edge of mockery. "Though I'm sure your little maids won't have much to show for all their preening and posturing." His enhanced frame tensed with anticipation.

Scurrying away like scolded dogs, the bullies retreated to their own domain, their earlier bravado crumbling with each step.

"Idiots," Randy muttered, shaking his head. "Causing trouble in the library of all places. Should've known they'd get themselves caught."

"Something doesn't add up," Alex mused, his transformed eyes narrowing thoughtfully. "Someone must have put them up to this - someone they fear more than Mr. Brunswick's wrath. The risk-reward doesn't make sense otherwise."

"But who?" Max wondered aloud, his enhanced frame tensing at the implications.

The three bullies made their way through the Academy's winding corridors, finally reaching a sector still forbidden to Alex and his friends - the Club Sector. This exclusive domain housed everything from lecture halls to state-of-the-art research laboratories and training facilities, each space carefully allocated among the various factions according to their influence and standing.

Their Zenith Order emblems granted them easy passage through the ornate doors, but their confidence dimmed as they entered what resembled a medieval guild hall reimagined through a lens of magical grandeur. The building rose in elegant tiers, each ascending level hosting fewer occupants, a physical manifestation of the power structure they served. The sparsely populated upper floors loomed above them, a constant reminder of the authority wielded by those who dwelt in those rarefied heights.

Upon reaching the second floor, the three bullies instinctively lowered their gazes, their earlier arrogance evaporating in this temple of hierarchy. For while the Zenith Order proudly proclaimed its superiority over commoners, it maintained its own ruthless pecking order. Here, at the bottom of their faction's totem pole, they were little more than glorified servants themselves, looking down on outsiders while being looked down upon by their own supposed allies.

On the second floor, they discovered a lively corner booth where a man lounged, surrounded by adoring women, their laughter echoing through the space like musical chimes.

"And then I told him - Ravenwood shoes are simply too cheap!" A pompous voice filled the room, followed by theatrical laughter that the surrounding women eagerly echoed.

"You're too funny, Sherman," a girl with elaborate pigtails cooed, pressing herself against his arm with practiced grace. Her eyes sparkled with carefully cultivated admiration.

Sherman's lips curved into a self-satisfied smile as he basked in their attention. "I know, I know - it's quite the burden, making gorgeous girls like yourselves collapse in laughter." He caught the pigtailed girl's chin between his fingers, examining her face like a connoisseur appraising fine art.

"What about us, Sherman?" another girl pouted from his opposite side, molding herself against him with calculated precision.

"Oh, my dears, you're all exquisite creatures. Each of you appreciates my wit so perfectly." His voice dripped with honeyed condescension.

His expression shifted instantly when he caught sight of the three bullies approaching, warmth giving way to predatory focus. "Ladies, you must excuse me. It seems some gentlemen require my attention. I trust they bring favorable news." His eyes narrowed to razor-sharp slits, fixing the bullies with a gaze that promised consequences.

"Derek, my boy," Sherman's voice carried an edge sharp enough to draw blood. "I assume you're here to report success? Three troublesome buffoons banned from the library after another regrettable altercation?"

Derek stood before Sherman, desperately trying to gather his courage even as it slipped through his fingers like sand.

"The... the plan," Derek stammered, his voice cracking under Sherman's predatory gaze. "It didn't work, Sherman. The plan failed." Each word seemed to cost him physical pain.

Sherman's reaction was explosive - the crystal glass slammed against the table with enough force to make everyone flinch. In one fluid motion, he rose and seized Derek by the collar, his carefully cultivated charm evaporating like morning dew under harsh sun.

"What exactly are you trying to tell me, Derek?" Sherman's voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. "That my plan - my perfectly crafted plan - didn't work? Are you suggesting I'm stupid?" His grip tightened, knuckles whitening. "Because from where I'm standing, the only stupid one is the failure standing before me."

The light-blue uniformed nobleman stepped forward, his words tumbling out in desperate explanation. "Please, Sherman! Mr. Brunswick intervened, threatened to lower our rankings further. We couldn't risk-"

"Oh, the librarian stopped you?" Sherman's mockery cut like a blade. "How shocking - it's almost as if I sent you to cause trouble in a place that always has supervision. Did you think I hadn't considered that?" He shook Derek roughly. "You were supposed to be quick, efficient. You said they were eager to fight before - what changed? Explain before I demonstrate how real violence works."

"It was different this time, Sherman!" Derek's voice carried a note of desperate realization. "They've learned the rules, adapted to them. Someone must have warned them, taught them how to navigate the system. They're not the same impulsive commoners anymore."

"Of course they've changed, you imbecile!" Sherman's voice dripped with venomous contempt. "They've practically lived in that library for weeks. Did you think they were reading fiction for pleasure?" His grip tightened on Derek's collar. "Or perhaps you thought I was fool enough to believe that?" With savage force, he slammed Derek against the table's edge before hurling him to the floor. "You know the price of failing me. Now pay it."

Sherman's fists descended like hammer blows, each strike painting Derek's face in increasingly darker shades of purple and blue. The other two bullies stood frozen in horror, their aristocratic bearing crumbling as they watched their companion's punishment with trembling restraint.

Rising from his brutal work, Sherman turned to fix them with a cold stare. "Take him to the infirmary. Training accident - that's your story. Make it quick, unless you'd care to match his new complexion."

Terrified into action, they scrambled to collect their battered friend, supporting his limp form as they hurried toward medical attention. Sherman pulled a pristine cloth from his coat, methodically cleaning the blood from his knuckles before spitting contemptuously at the spot where Derek had fallen.

His thoughts turned bitter as he contemplated how his supposedly capable underlings had failed against mere commoners. "Perhaps this year's first-years might actually provide some entertainment," he mused darkly. "Mr. Mahanez! Another drink - this one's been spoiled by waste."

The bartender, Mr. Mahanez, crafted a fresh drink with practiced efficiency. Sherman claimed his place at the bar, savoring the first sip with exaggerated pleasure. "Ah, perfect - just what I needed." He dabbed his lips delicately, all traces of violence hidden behind cultured mannerisms.

"Well, nothing brightens a sour mood quite like feminine company," he purred, a predatory gleam returning to his eyes as he set off in search of his earlier admirers, his calculated charm sliding back into place like a well-worn mask.