The Math of War

11:30 AM – The Warning Echoes

The room was silent.

Elias took a slow sip of coffee, savoring the bitter taste. The only thing keeping him from walking out of this school entirely.

Tyrell's words still hung in the air.

"We'll be seeing you soon."

Students looked between each other, eyes filled with a strange mix of awe and terror.

Zane, the same kid Elias had humiliated yesterday, finally spoke.

"Mr. Clarke… uh, you know who that was, right?"

Elias calmly adjusted his tie. "Yes. A delinquent who failed algebra."

Zane blinked. "No, I mean—"

Elias turned to the board, his chalk tapping against the surface.

"F = ma."

"This is the equation that dictates force. If Tyrell plans to test it—"

He looked back at the class, his icy blue eyes sharp.

"Then I hope he understands the math."

A kid in the back muttered, "This dude is insane."

Elias continued writing.

"We will not waste time on distractions. Today, we discuss how force applies in real-world scenarios. For example—"

He turned, scanning the class.

"—if a man throws a punch at 10 m/s, and I redirect his force while adding my own acceleration, what is the result?"

The class was silent.

Then one student whispered.

"…A hospital bill?"

Elias nodded. "Correct. And a valuable lesson in physics."

The tension in the air didn't fade.

Elias could feel it—the shift in how the students saw him.

This wasn't just another teacher anymore.

This was a man who broke the rules of Blackridge.

And now?

The school would push back.

---

12:30 PM – Teachers' Lounge

"You did what?"

Elias calmly stirred his coffee.

Across from him, Mr. Patel—the chemistry teacher—looked like he was about to have a heart attack.

"You put Kane in the hospital, and now you're antagonizing his older brother?" Patel wiped his forehead. "Are you insane?"

Elias took a sip.

"Not insane. Just thorough."

Miss Dawson, the English teacher, leaned forward. "You don't understand. The Phantom Crew isn't just some wannabe gang. They run half of this school's underground. Drugs. Protection rackets. Even the teachers are scared of them."

Elias set his coffee down.

"Fascinating."

Patel's jaw dropped.

"That's your reaction? Fascinating?"

Elias shrugged.

"A school run by criminals. An administration too weak to enforce order. And teachers who choose compliance over confrontation." He took another sip. "Yes. It is… fascinating."

Dawson pinched the bridge of her nose. "Look, Clarke. We get it. You're new, you don't understand how things work here."

Elias raised an eyebrow.

"No. You don't understand."

The room fell silent.

Elias leaned forward, his gaze as cold as ever.

"I don't care about gangs, or power struggles, or whatever feeble grip these children think they have on this school."

He picked up his coffee.

"But if they interfere with my lesson plans, then I will erase them like a miscalculated equation."

Dawson and Patel stared.

They had heard tough talk before.

But Elias Clarke?

He was different.

Because he meant every word.

---

3:00 PM – The First Move

Elias walked into the empty classroom, rolling his sleeves up.

His students had gone home.

But he wasn't alone.

Sitting on his desk, legs crossed, was a familiar figure.

Tyrell.

Flanked by two gang members.

Elias closed the door behind him.

"...I expected you sooner."

Tyrell grinned.

"Had to make a few calls. See, Teach, you're causing problems. Kane? He's family. And in Blackridge, we don't let things slide."

Elias placed his coffee on the desk.

"Then you should be careful. If you keep accumulating problems, you might run out of solutions."

Tyrell smirked.

"You're funny. I like that."

He snapped his fingers.

One of his men stepped forward.

6'5, built like a walking fridge.

"Meet Devon. He's here to teach you some respect."

Elias looked Devon up and down.

Then exhaled.

"…What a disappointing application of mass."

Devon swung.

A fist moving at 20 m/s.

Elias sidestepped.

Calculated the arc.

Redirected the force.

Then drove his palm into Devon's solar plexus.

WHAM.

Devon collapsed.

Wheezing. Out. Cold.

Tyrell's smile faded.

Elias calmly adjusted his sleeves.

Then turned to Tyrell.

"Do you have anything else to add?"

Tyrell's fists clenched.

But he didn't move.

Instead, he let out a slow, sharp breath.

"...Alright, Teach."

He grinned.

"This just got interesting."

And with that, he walked out.

The war had officially begun.

Elias sighed.

Picked up his coffee.

And muttered to himself.

"These kids are exhausting."