New Day, New Enemies

Monday morning came with the buzz of students filing through the school gates, but one particular figure drew more than a few lingering stares. Xerxes Raven walked with a calm, confident stride, the morning sun catching in his dark hair as he passed through the entrance like he owned the place. Some students whispered to each other—curious, cautious. Troy, Damien, and Zane noticed too. Troy narrowed his eyes, feeling that familiar twist in his gut. That guy again. The way he walks like he's got nothing to prove—Tch.

Xerxes made his way to his first class and pushed the door open only to find it completely empty. "Did I mess up again?" he muttered, stepping back out to check the placard above the door. Room B-207. He glanced down at his phone, double-checked his schedule. Accounting. Monday. Room B-207. He was right.

Then he saw the time: 7:30 AM.

"…Oh." A dry chuckle escaped him. "Guess I'm just thirty minutes early." He shook his head with a lopsided grin and walked back into the room, dropping onto a seat near the window. No wonder it's empty. Look at me… early. Mom would faint if she knew.

A few minutes later, the door creaked open and a couple of students walked in, immediately freezing when they saw him.

"Wait… Xerxes? Dude. You're here early?" one of them asked with a grin.

"Is the apocalypse near?" another teased.

Xerxes grinned. "What can I say? I'm trying out this 'responsible adult' thing. Feels weird. Might go back to being a disaster tomorrow."

They laughed, and the atmosphere warmed. Then the door burst open again, and Dick entered—his expression brightening the second his eyes landed on Xerxes. He practically jogged over and plopped down beside him.

"Yo! You're here early too?" he said, his voice full of excitement. Man, he really did come. I thought he'd skip again…

Xerxes glanced at him with a smirk. "Trying to out-early me, huh?"

Before Dick could reply, another voice joined the chatter.

"Looks like Romeo's not late today," someone teased.

Xerxes looked over his shoulder with a grin. Sera stood by the door, raising a brow as the class teased.

"Oh please," Xerxes said, gesturing grandly. "I couldn't let my Juliet drink poison again."

Sera rolled her eyes, walking toward her seat. "For your information, Romeo drank the poison first because he thought Juliet was dead. Typical man—making rash decisions without checking the facts."

The class snorted with laughter.

"Fair," Xerxes said, hand over his heart. "But I'm different. I ask questions. Like, 'Juliet, you good?' before chugging anything."

Sera smirked. "That's assuming Juliet didn't stab you first for being dramatic."

Why is he like this? she thought, cheeks betraying her with the faintest warmth. He's annoying… but also kind of funny. And—ugh—he really is kinda charming.

Xerxes caught the shift in her expression and gave a small, knowing grin. She's flustered. Bingo.

Dick, meanwhile, watched the two of them with wide eyes, sipping his water quietly. Are they flirting? Is this flirting? Oh man. I should've worn something cooler today.

Xerxes leaned back in his chair, hands behind his head as the classroom slowly filled with students. Yeah… things might just be looking up.

Just as the classroom reached a lively buzz, the door opened and in walked Professor Ivy Laurent, dressed sharply in a cream blouse tucked into high-waisted slacks, her presence quieting the chatter almost instantly.

She glanced around, then her gaze landed on Xerxes—already lounging in his chair like he owned it.

"Well, well, Mr. Raven," she said with a knowing smirk. "Not late for once. I was almost disappointed."

Xerxes sat up straight with a playful grin. "I thought I'd mix it up. Besides, I figured if I came late, we wouldn't get the chance to talk… privately."

The room went still.

"…Over dinner," he added with a wink.

Some students gasped, others snorted. Dick was frozen, staring at him like he'd lost his mind. He did not just say that…

Sera pinched the bridge of her nose. Oh gods, not this again.

Professor Ivy, unimpressed but clearly amused, raised a brow. "Bold of you. But I'm afraid you're a little too young to be flirting with your professor."

Xerxes leaned forward, resting his arms on his desk with a sly grin. "Well, maybe we're not that far apart. I'm 24, you know. How old are you, Miss Ivy? Twenty—"

Before he could finish, the class erupted.

"You're twenty-four?!" a student blurted out, eyes wide. "Bro, you look like you just turned twenty!"

Another piped in, "No way. I thought you were a freshman like us!"

Then came Sera's voice, laced with sarcasm and just the right amount of sass. "Yeah, twenty-four with the maturity of a fourteen-year-old."

Xerxes laughed. "Ouch. That one stung a little."

Professor Ivy crossed her arms, shaking her head with a smirk. "I'm twenty-six. And before you get any ideas, I'm already in a relationship."

"Oh, that's fine," Xerxes replied smoothly. "Every Guinevere had a King Arthur… but also a Lancelot. I'm just sayin'."

The class collectively groaned, and Ivy narrowed her eyes.

"That's enough, Mr. Raven," she said firmly. "Unless you want to be Lancelot with detention."

"Touché," Xerxes chuckled, raising his hands in surrender. "I'll behave. For now."

Professor Ivy rolled her eyes and turned back to the whiteboard. "Let's get started then—before anyone else tries to be a knight in shining nonsense."

And just like that, class was in session—but the energy, thanks to Xerxes, was anything but ordinary.

As class wrapped up and Professor Ivy exited the room, a few students gathered around Xerxes again, clearly amused.

"From Romeo and Juliet to King Arthur?" one of them chuckled. "Dude, are you collecting literary lovers now?"

"Bold of you to shoot your shot like that," another said, still laughing. "You've got the confidence of a stage actor, man."

Xerxes stretched in his seat, smirking. "What can I say? I love the books of William Shakespeare."

Sera, who had just finished packing her things, raised a brow as she passed by. "Pretty sure Le Morte d'Arthur was written by Sir Thomas Malory, not Shakespeare."

Xerxes blinked, paused, then grinned like he'd planned it all along. "Exactly. I was just testing you to see if you knew who the real author was."

Sera gave him a flat look. "Right."

Dick, trying not to laugh too hard, whispered, "Smooth save, man. Real smooth."

Xerxes gave him a sideways glance, whispering back, "She totally bought it."

"She totally didn't," Dick whispered, snorting.

And as the group broke off with laughter and light teasing, Xerxes leaned back with a grin, clearly thriving in the chaos he casually created.

Xerxes turned to Dick, casually slinging his bag over one shoulder. "Hey, how much time do we have before our next lecture?"

Dick glanced at his phone. "Fifteen minutes."

Xerxes let out a sigh of relief. "Perfect. That gives us just enough time to grab a burger or something. I didn't have breakfast—figured I'd show up early for once and nearly starved to death in the process."

Dick laughed. "So that's the secret to your punctuality? Hunger?"

"Exactly," Xerxes said with a grin. "Starve myself into responsibility. Works like a charm."

"You're unbelievable," Sera muttered as she walked past them, but there was a small smile tugging at her lips.

Xerxes winked. "And yet, here I am. Starving, charming, and totally burger-bound."

While they were outside grabbing burgers, Xerxes was halfway through a joke about how a double patty symbolizes double happiness in ancient fast-food philosophy, when he felt a gentle tap on his shoulder.

He turned—and there was Chloe Arden, hands on her hips and a playful smirk on her face.

His smile twitched. Crap. Not because of the tap… but because he completely forgot her name. Wait—who is this again? Crap crap crap… she looks familiar. Please don't be who I think she is— Then it hit him. Oh no. It was her. The girl whose lunch I turned into a midair tragedy. The one I didn't even pay back. Smooth, Xerxes. Real smooth.

"Hey," Chloe said, eyebrow raised. "Do you remember me?"

Xerxes immediately nodded, trying to stall for time. "Of course I do! You're… Charlene? Catriona? …Cherry?"

I'm dead.

Chloe laughed, arms crossing. "Wow. None of those were even close."

"I was going alphabetically," Xerxes said without missing a beat. "You just stopped me too early."

She shook her head, still smiling. "It's Chloe. Chloe Arden. You seriously forgot the name of the girl whose food you made defy gravity?"

At that, the memory clicked—him chasing Dick, that wild collision, her lunch soaring into the air like a doomed UFO.

Xerxes winced. Right. The noodles. The sauce. The hoodie. And I just left it at "my bad" and dipped. "Right! Your noodles did a backflip and stuck the landing… in traffic."

"Exactly," Chloe said, clearly amused now. "So, any plans to compensate me for the tragic loss of my lunch and my poor hoodie?"

"Absolutely," Xerxes said, hands raised like he was caught red-handed. "How about a peace offering of one greasy burger and a soft drink that may or may not be flat?"

Chloe grinned. "I'll take it. But you still owe me a proper meal someday."

Xerxes smirked. "It's a date—unless you're the type to trip people mid-sprint again."

"I only trip guys who forget my name," she teased.

Noted, he thought, survive today, remember names tomorrow.

Dick, standing beside them with his burger in hand, just blinked at the whole exchange. "Bro, you're like a magnet for chaos."

"More like chaos with a loyalty program," Xerxes replied, biting into his burger like it was the most normal Monday ever.

After Chloe got her food, balancing it in one hand while sipping her drink with the other, Xerxes casually scratched the back of his head, pretending to look at the sky.

"So…" he began, trying to sound smooth but totally winging it. "Maybe you could give me your number? Or Messenger? Whatever you prefer. You know—so I can call you if you're free rather than roaming the campus like a lost puppy trying to find you."

He laughed lightly after saying it, hoping to make it sound playful rather than awkward. Okay, smooth enough… I think. Not creepy, right? No, definitely not creepy. Just practical. Friendly. Charming, even?

Chloe raised a brow, amused. "You ask like you're about to pitch a group project."

Xerxes shrugged with a grin. "You never know, we might have to co-write a tragedy titled The Girl and the Guy Who Made Her Lunch Fly. Could win an award."

She giggled and handed her phone over. "Alright, here. Add yourself."

Xerxes quickly typed his number in, saving it with the name "Xerxes the Not-So-Late." Branding matters. He returned the phone with a cheeky salute.

"Thanks. Now I won't have to tackle Dick again just to run into you," he joked, shooting her a wink.

"You better not," Chloe laughed. "I might throw the burger this time."

With that, she gave them a playful wave and walked off. Xerxes and Dick started strolling back toward the campus building.

Xerxes, glancing at his phone, smirked to himself. Okay, got her number. Made her laugh. Didn't die of embarrassment. That's a win. He looked over at Dick, who was giving him a look.

"What?" Xerxes asked, stuffing the rest of his burger into his mouth.

Dick shook his head, grinning. "Nothing. Just watching a legend in the making."

"Please, I'm a humble man," Xerxes said, mouth full. "A humble man… with charm."

And a surprisingly good Monday, he thought.

As they walked, Dick leaned in a bit and said under his breath, "You know, you're not just getting popular with the girls."

Xerxes raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Don't tell me you've fallen for me too, Dick. I'm flattered."

Dick snorted and tilted his head subtly. "I mean them." He jerked his chin toward a group of guys across the street near the campus gate, all staring in their direction—some with curiosity, some with clear tension.

Xerxes didn't even bother to look long. He just shrugged coolly. "Let them be. They stare, I eat. They bark, I bite. I can handle shit on my own."

Then, with zero hesitation, he reached over, grabbed Dick's drink, and chugged half of it.

"Dude!" Dick looked betrayed. "That was mine! Where's yours?"

Xerxes wiped his mouth and grinned. "Didn't get one. Treated Chloe, remember? Budget's bleeding. Gotta make sacrifices for beauty and burgers."

Totally worth it, he thought, still tasting the cola.

Dick shook his head with a grin. "You're unbelievable."

"Thank you, thank you. Hold your applause."

Laughing, the two of them picked up their pace and dashed toward the next building. They made it just in time as the bell rang.

Xerxes slid into his seat like a champ, catching his breath and flashing a smirk at Dick. Not late. Not broke. Not bad for a Monday.

The rest of the day flowed in a rhythm of lectures, shifting classrooms, and the usual low hum of academic dread. Xerxes leaned back in his seat during Business Math, eyes flicking between the board and the window where clouds gathered like they were gossiping. He tapped his pen on the desk lazily. How is it only 10:43? Time moves like molasses in this class.

Across the room, Sera glanced at him briefly, catching the way he chewed on his pen cap with a bored expression. He really doesn't look like someone who's twenty-four. More like a rebellious intern who got lost and ended up in a college course. She caught herself staring and quickly refocused on the board, scribbling notes. Ugh. Why does his laziness look charming? That's so dumb.

In Management, Xerxes actually participated—half-sincerely, half to mess with the professor who clearly didn't know whether to be impressed or annoyed by his sarcastic suggestions. Dick laughed beside him the whole time, whispering, "You're gonna get us kicked out one day." Xerxes just shrugged. If I'm going to be in school, might as well keep it entertaining. Otherwise, what's the point of coming back?

Later, in the Economics class, Sera noticed the change in Xerxes. He wasn't just joking anymore—he asked a legit smart question about capital flow and how it applies to startups. She blinked. Wait… okay, that was a good point. He's actually smart? Dammit. Why is that somehow worse?

Xerxes leaned back again, smirking faintly. He felt her gaze. She's probably shocked I have a brain. What, they think I came here to just flirt and nap? Please. I came to graduate and wreck anyone who stands in my way. With grades… and fists, if needed.

The last subject of the day dragged on—Advanced Accounting. Most students were already zoning out. Sera twirled her pen and tried to stay awake. When she glanced toward Xerxes again, she found him completely zoned but still somehow looking like he belonged there. How does someone like him feel like both a transfer student and the main character? Ugh. That's annoying. And kind of cool. Whatever.

When the lecture ended, students packed up in a rush, eager to escape. Xerxes yawned, standing up and stretching with his shirt rising just enough to make two girls at the back whisper and giggle. He didn't notice—he was too busy debating if he wanted coffee or sleep. Probably both.

Sera walked past him with her bag slung over one shoulder. "Try to stay awake next time, Professor Capital Flow."

He raised a brow, amused. "Aw, were you paying attention to me? That's sweet. I'm touched."

"Don't flatter yourself. I was just surprised a caveman could speak finance."

"I grunt in spreadsheets too," he replied with a grin.

She walked off rolling her eyes, hiding the small smirk on her lips. He's infuriating. But also…

He watched her go, shaking his head with a chuckle. Juliet's getting sassier.

By the time the last lecture wrapped up, Xerxes stretched his arms and cracked his neck, feeling the tension from the day melt just a little.

Some classmates, now a bit more comfortable around him, approached. "Hey, we're heading out for a few drinks. You in?"

Xerxes offered a polite smile, slinging his bag over his shoulder. "Maybe next time… or maybe not. I don't drink alcohol or that kind of crap. I stick to caffeine—keeps me alive and mildly civilized."

They laughed as he waved them off and walked toward the door with Dick trailing him.

Dick nudged him. "So, you gonna call Chloe? Invite her out or something?"

Xerxes snorted. "Nope. Why? You want to come too? Make it a triple date with your imaginary girlfriend?"

Dick frowned. "Damn, cold. Mind your own lovelife, dude."

"Exactly what I was about to tell you."

Before they could take another step, a familiar voice popped up behind them.

Sera stepped forward, hands on her hips, her brows arched like she was conducting an interrogation.

"Wait—who's Chloe?"

Xerxes blinked at her, then leaned casually on Dick's shoulder with a dramatic sigh. "Whoa, hold up. Do I look like I'm required to file a report to you about every girl I talk to?" he asked, flashing a crooked smirk. "Do I gotta submit a relationship clearance form too?"

Dick snorted beside him, trying not to laugh.

Sera narrowed her eyes. "You didn't answer my question."

"Oh, you were serious?" he grinned, then raised his hands in mock surrender. "Chloe Atrend," he said with zero confidence.

Dick immediately cut in. "Arden. Chloe Arden."

Xerxes shrugged with a crooked smile. "Right. Arden."

Crap. How the hell was I supposed to remember that? At least I got the "Chloe" part right.

Sera's eyes narrowed. "Is she the one you bumped into? The girl whose food went flying?"

Xerxes scratched the back of his neck, glancing sideways. "Uh… yeah. That was me."

Sera crossed her arms, lips twitching. "Thought so."

What is that supposed to mean? Is she annoyed? Curious? Why do I care?

He shifted his weight. "Why? You taking statements for student affairs now?"

Sera rolled her eyes but didn't answer that. Instead, she said, "Give me your number."

Xerxes raised a brow. "Why would I do that?" he asked, smirking. "You planning to treat me to a meal or something? Because that's my standard policy."

Dick laughed. "Bro, just give her your number. You flirt like hell but know jack about girls."

Xerxes clicked his tongue. "Hey, I know plenty. I just don't hand out digits without negotiation."

He glanced at Sera again—she didn't look amused, but she wasn't backing down either.

She's dead serious. I don't even know if I'm winning or losing right now.

"Alright, alright," he said, pulling out his phone and reciting his number. "There. Happy now?"

"Thrilled," Sera said, entering it into her phone with impressive speed.

As she turned to go, Xerxes called after her, "And remember to call me before you drink any poison."

Sera didn't miss a beat and shot back, "Romeo drank the poison first, genius."

Xerxes smirked. "And Juliet still followed. You're giving me those vibes."

Sera glanced over her shoulder with a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Actually, Juliet didn't die from poison. She stabbed herself with a dagger."

Xerxes blinked.

Okay, she's really trying to get under my skin now. Did she just fact-check Shakespeare on me?

She added, "Guess you need to read the book again, Romeo."

Xerxes chuckled, rolling his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. Keep it up, Juliet. You're not so bad at being a nerd after all."

Sera tossed a smirk over her shoulder. "Glad you're finally catching on, Romeo."

Dick snorted, wiping a tear from his eye. "You two seriously need a reality show."

Xerxes watched Sera walk off, still grinning.

Well played, Sera. Well played. But next time, I'm coming for the last word.

The days that followed blurred by in a mix of lectures, half-finished notes, cafeteria banter, and the occasional teasing glance across classrooms. Xerxes had fallen into the rhythm of things—not quite a routine, but not the chaotic spiral it once was. His presence had grown louder even in his silence. Some respected him. Some feared him. And some, like Sera, just couldn't stop calling out his Romeo lines.

It was Thursday when the weather turned warm, just enough to convince students to step outside for lunch. The sun hit the pavement hard, but the breeze made it bearable. Xerxes and Dick strolled out through the campus gates, both hands in pockets, eyeing the street stalls ahead.

"You feel that?" Dick muttered, eyes shifting from left to right. "So many people looking at us. Like… a lot."

Xerxes shrugged with a slight smirk, not breaking stride. "It's either my good looks or your weird walk. Take your pick."

He said it like it was nothing, but part of him knew. It wasn't just about looks. It was the way he carried himself now—shoulders squared, eyes steady, like someone who'd stopped running and was ready to fight back.

They stopped at a food cart just down the street, the scent of sizzling meat and toasted buns wrapping around them like a warm coat. They ordered two burgers, and Dick grabbed drinks while Xerxes found a small table nearby.

They barely unwrapped their food when a shadow loomed over their lunch.

"Well, well," a voice rang out like a nail on metal. "Look at you two. Enjoying your last peaceful meal?"

Xerxes didn't need to look up. He already knew.

Troy.

He looked up anyway, slowly, like it wasn't worth rushing. Troy stood there, flanked by Zane and Damien in the distance, leaning against a pole like backup dancers in a bad drama.

"Your happy days are coming to an end," Troy sneered, voice low enough to sound serious, loud enough to draw attention.

Xerxes took a bite of his burger and chewed slowly, eyes never leaving Troy's. His thoughts were calm, oddly calm. Ah… so the storm wants to come early. Fine.

He swallowed, then wiped the corner of his mouth with a napkin. "You say that like you're gonna be the one ending it. Hate to break it to you, but I already lived through hell. This? This is just lunch."

Beside him, Dick froze. His hand tightened around his drink, knuckles pale. This is bad. Troy never approaches unless he's sure of something. And we're alone out here.

Xerxes glanced at him briefly, then leaned back in his chair. "You came all the way out here to give a dramatic monologue? At least let me finish my fries first."

Troy's smug grin twitched, just for a second, when a new shadow stretched across the pavement behind him.

Heavy boots thudded closer, casual but deliberate. A tall guy walked up—solid build, not bodybuilder-level but definitely someone who could knock you out cold if he felt like it. His presence hit like a wave, calm but… loud. The kind that didn't need words to turn heads.

He stopped beside Troy, arms crossed, eyes scanning Xerxes like he was inspecting a prize fighter.

"So," the guy said, voice deep and a little rough, "this the dude who almost made you a eunuch last week?"

Troy's face twitched again—this time, hard. Damien and Zane, still lurking a few steps behind, exchanged glances.

Xerxes raised a brow mid-chew, blinked once, then slowly set his burger down. "Almost?" he asked, smirking. "Damn. I'm slipping."

Dick let out a sound that was either a cough or a snort he desperately tried to muffle behind his drink. This guy… he's just asking to get jumped… or crowned. I can't tell which.

Troy turned his head slightly, jaw tightening. "Watch it, Reese."

The tall guy—Reese, apparently—just shrugged like he couldn't be bothered. "Relax, man. I'm just asking. You talk about this dude every day. Figured I'd meet the legend myself."

Then he turned back to Xerxes and offered a nod. "Respect. Not everyone has the balls to go toe-to-toe with Troy and walk away with all their teeth."

Xerxes leaned back, casually tossing a fry into his mouth. "Thanks. Took years of practice and questionable decisions."

Who the hell is this guy? Xerxes thought, eyes narrowing just slightly. He's not part of their usual trio… but he ain't exactly neutral either. Interesting.

Troy didn't say another word. He turned on his heel with a sharp huff, muttering something to Damien and Zane before walking off. Reese followed after a beat, giving one last glance back at Xerxes—somewhere between curious and amused.

Dick shook his head. "Bro. One day you're gonna say something that gets us both killed."

Xerxes grinned, "Nah. I'll make sure you die first so you don't suffer."

They both laughed, though Dick's was half-worried.

Then, mid-chuckle, Dick suddenly froze. "Wait... was that Reese? The guy who—"

WHAM!

A blur slammed into Dick's side like a freight train—Reese's boot catching him square in the ribs and launching him off the bench. He tumbled across the pavement, crashing into a trash can with a painful grunt.

"DICK!"

Xerxes was already on his feet.

He grabbed his cup, casually sipped the last of his Coke, eyes never leaving Reese. Ice clinked against plastic, the sound weirdly loud against the stunned silence around them.

Then, he tossed the cup aside and stepped forward.

Alright… big guy hits hard. Got reach. Favors his right leg. Came in fast, but he dropped his shoulder too early—telegraphed it.

There's always a crack. Just gotta find it.

Xerxes' gaze sharpened, scanning Reese from head to toe, calculating. Every twitch, every shift of weight, was a puzzle to be solved. Reese didn't move, just stood there, like he was daring him to come forward.

"You good?" Xerxes asked without looking back.

"Alive," Dick groaned from the ground. "Mostly."

Reese tilted his head. "You said you could handle your own, right? Let's see it."

Xerxes cracked his neck, his trademark smirk curling back in place.

"Oh, we're doing this now? Alright, big guy… just don't cry when I tap your spine like a soda can."

The air around them thickened. Students nearby backed off fast, phones already out, some whispering "that's the guy from Troy's fight", others just watching wide-eyed.

The campus was no longer calm.

It was about to turn into an arena.

Xerxes scanned Reese from head to toe. Broad shoulders, compact stance, weight mostly on the rear leg—he was a fighter, alright. But all muscle and no brains still gets folded.

He's searching for an opening. A crack. A rhythm.

Then—

WHAM!

A punch—fast, heavy—cracked across Xerxes' jaw.

The crowd gasped.

Dick yelped. "Xerxes!"

But—

Xerxes dropped to the ground, playing it off like he was knocked out cold.

Amateur mistake, Reese thought, stepping closer.

Always use your surroundings, Xerxes grinned inwardly.

His fingers dug into the dirt beside him—dust, gravel, sand.

"Catch," he whispered.

FWASH!

A cloud of sand exploded into Reese's face.

"Agh! What the—?!"

Before anyone could react, Xerxes shot up like a viper.

"KNEE KICK TO THE FACE!" he shouted like he was calling out an anime attack.

BAM!

His knee connected hard with Reese's jaw, sending the guy stumbling backward, dazed.

The crowd lost it.

"Yo what the hell—did he just—"

"DID HE JUST THROW SAND???"

"He's like the main character in one of those underground street brawler anime, bro!"

"Who yells their move like that?! What a weirdo!"

"Low-key kinda sick though…"

Dick stood frozen, eyes wide. He's insane. But damn, he's good.

Xerxes straightened up, brushing the dust off his pants, calm as hell.

"Sorry," he said casually, "I don't play fair."

Xerxes didn't waste a second. As soon as Reese staggered slightly, he started shouting again—"Straight! Hook! Jab! Low kick!"—delivering each move just as he called it out, his fists flying with a rhythm that looked both chaotic and calculated. The crowd roared, half-cheering, half-laughing. One guy even yelled, "Yo, this dude's playing real-life Street Fighter!"

Reese furrowed his brow, confused.

Why the hell is he yelling his moves? Is this a joke to him? Or is he just that cocky?

Then came the big one.

"Roundkick!" Xerxes twisted mid-air, launching his leg like a whip—but Reese caught his foot mid-spin with a grunt, his biceps flexing as he held him midair.

Finally got you, Reese thought, smirking. Let's see you talk after this—

BAM!

A fist crashed into Xerxes' gut. He grunted sharply and hit the dirt.

Reese scoffed. "You talk too much," he said, wiping sweat from his forehead.

This guy's annoying… but sturdy. Why is he still getting up?

But as Reese stepped in to finish it, Xerxes rolled back up, dodged, blocked.

"Uppercut!"

"Step left! Dodge!"

"Counter! Feint!"

Each move was called out like some bizarre battle announcer.

Reese's eyes narrowed. Is this guy mocking me?! The hell kind of fighting style is this?!

But his swings were growing slower, his arms heavier.

Why am I breathing so hard already…?

I've fought tougher guys than him. This should've been over.

Shit. I wasted too much energy early on…

Then—

"Ballshot!"

Reese's instincts kicked in. He jerked back, hands flying to protect his groin.

Oh HELL no. You dirty little—

But it was too late.

CRACK!

Xerxes headbutted him right in the nose.

Reese's vision went white. A flash of pain burst through his face.

WHAT THE FU—?!

Blood streamed down. His balance teetered. He stumbled, clutching his face.

He faked the kick?! He actually—

Who does that?! WHO FIGHTS LIKE THIS?!

The crowd erupted around him as he staggered back, disoriented.

This guy… isn't just a clown. He's dangerous.

And I walked right into his trap like a goddamn amateur.

Dick's jaw dropped. "HE HEADBUTTED HIM IN THE NOSE INSTEAD?! HE FAKED THE BALLSHOT?! WHO EVEN DOES THAT?!"

The crowd exploded in gasps, laughter, and cheers.

"He's a lunatic!"

"Nah bro, he's built different!"

"That's my main character right there!"

"Respect++"

Reese staggered, blinking, nose dripping red.

Xerxes wiped his own face with the back of his hand, grinned, then muttered under his breath, Don't ever fight a man with nothing to lose… or one who announces his own damn combos.

Reese lay on the ground, clutching his nose, blood dripping between his fingers. His chest heaved as he tried to regain his balance.

Damn… that headbutt. What the hell just happened? I've never been hit like that before. This guy's not just cocky, he's actually... good.

As Reese tried to stand up, wiping blood from his face, he heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps rushing toward him.

"Stomp!" Xerxes shouted—then, without warning, lowered his body and grabbed Reese by the nape. The force was quick and brutal. Xerxes' elbow slammed into Reese's face with a sickening crunch.

WHAT THE—?

Reese's head snapped back, and his vision blurred. This guy's not stopping. This is insane...

Reese gritted his teeth, shoving his palms into Xerxes' chest, his muscles straining as he pushed him off, trying to create space.

Shit, I need to breathe, I need to think, Reese thought, stumbling backward as he regained his footing. I can't let him keep controlling the pace like this.

Xerxes didn't hesitate. He was already running at Reese, shouting his moves again, "Jab! Straight! Hook! Kick!"

But this time… something felt off. His movements didn't match the calls. The jab was a kick. The hook, a jab. Each time Xerxes shouted a move, he did something different. It was unpredictable. Unsettling.

What the hell is this guy doing?! Reese thought, narrowing his eyes in confusion. Is he toying with me? This is... it's like he's just fucking with me, not even fighting seriously anymore.

Xerxes grinned as he ran forward.

So he's rattled, huh? Good. That hesitation means he's already losing. I can feel it. He's confused, and that's exactly what I want.

Xerxes shifted his weight, feinting with a punch before kicking low, throwing Reese off guard. His movements were erratic, confusing.

He's good at this... but I can't let it get to me, Reese thought. I've fought against chaos before. I can still take him down if I just focus.

Reese tried to block but got caught with a kick to his shin, forcing him to stagger back. His eyes widened in frustration.

Why is he always a step ahead of me? Why am I falling for this?

The crowd was wild now. Some were cheering Xerxes on, while others were laughing and talking excitedly. A few of them were actually placing bets on the fight.

"Man, this dude's a freak!" one of the students yelled, completely amused.

"Is this a joke? This guy's like an anime character!" another laughed.

But a few of the other students were more serious. "Yo, he's really making Reese look like an amateur. What the hell?"

"Can someone stop this? Reese is getting his ass handed to him," another muttered.

Xerxes could hear the chaos of the crowd, the disbelief in their voices.

Yeah, I'm making an impression alright. But I can't stop now. I've got him exactly where I want him.

But Reese wasn't out yet. He clenched his fists, determined to recover.

I can't let him humiliate me anymore.

With a deep breath, Reese glared at Xerxes.

I'm coming for you now. Let's see if you can handle my real hits.

Reese staggered back, trying to shake off the pain. His face was still bleeding, but his eyes burned with determination. He took a deep breath, his chest expanding as he flexed his muscles, trying to show off his size.

"Think this is over, kid?" Reese growled, flexing his biceps like a bodybuilder, hoping the show of strength would intimidate Xerxes.

Xerxes couldn't help but smirk, his eyes scanning Reese's bulky frame.

Really? He's flexing? Is he trying to act like a goddamn musclehead now? Xerxes thought, shaking his head. That's a pretty big mistake...

Reese continued to show off, rolling his shoulders and puffing out his chest.

"Impressed yet? I don't just hit hard, kid. I can crush you like an ant if I want to," Reese taunted, trying to psych Xerxes out with his size.

Xerxes casually cracked his knuckles and raised an eyebrow.

Size doesn't matter when you can't even hit your target right, big guy. I've already knocked you off balance. You're just playing a part now.

The crowd seemed equally divided. Some were laughing, while others were genuinely impressed.

"Damn, this guy's huge!" one of the students whispered. "Look at those muscles, bro! Xerxes is going to get crushed."

Another student snickered. "He's flexing like it's a bodybuilding contest, but it won't save him."

"Xerxes is just... I don't know, he's too calm. Reese is flexing for nothing," one of the girls said, eyes glued to the fight.

Despite the flexing, Reese felt a flicker of doubt creep in.

Okay, I've shown him how strong I am. He should be scared now, right? But as he looked at Xerxes' calm expression, his stomach twisted. Why is he so confident? He's acting like he isn't even worried about my size.

Xerxes noticed the hesitation in Reese's posture, and that was all he needed.

This is getting too easy. He's showing off to make up for what he lacks—like that's going to win him the fight. Xerxes took a step forward, his eyes narrowing. Size doesn't mean a damn thing if you can't move. And I'm not done yet.

The crowd murmured, some of them laughing at Reese's antics.

"This is embarrassing. The guy's literally flexing for no reason," one student chuckled.

"Xerxes is still just standing there, making him look like a fool," another student said.

Reese, frustrated with how Xerxes wasn't intimidated, decided to go all in.

"Alright, you little shit. I'm done playing around," he snarled, charging toward Xerxes with his massive arms swinging.

But Xerxes was ready.

It's all show and no go with this guy. He's trying to make himself look like a monster, but his moves are still slow and predictable. Time to finish this.

Xerxes ducked under Reese's wild punch, sidestepping and delivering a swift kick to his side. Reese staggered back, still trying to recover his pride.

He's too slow now, Xerxes thought, his body moving on instinct. This is over. He can flex all he wants, but it doesn't change anything.

The crowd watched in stunned silence as Reese gritted his teeth, blood dripping down his nose. Some of the students began to murmur.

"Man, I thought Reese had it in the bag, but Xerxes is just too fast."

"He's making him look like a punching bag... this isn't even close."

"That flexing... such a waste. He could've done something if he didn't try to show off."

Reese was breathing heavily now, his muscles bulging, but his steps were sluggish.

I... I need to finish this fast. Reese thought, sweat dripping down his face. I've got this. He can't keep dodging forever.

Xerxes, on the other hand, felt completely in control.

This is too easy. I'm just gonna keep moving like this and let him tire himself out. He's all brawn with no brains.

Xerxes took a moment to breathe and stretch, looking at Reese with a knowing smirk.

I can't let him think he's in control. He's practically begging to be knocked out.

Xerxes straddled Reese's chest, fist cocked back, knuckles raw and bloodied—some his, most not. His breathing was heavy, wild. He wasn't even blinking anymore. The crowd was yelling, but it was just noise. Blurred, distant noise.

"STOP IT!"

"He's done, bro!"

"You'll kill him!"

But Xerxes couldn't hear them. He wasn't here. He was somewhere else. That night. That damn night He remembered what he did after that. How he hunted them. How he made them scream. How good it felt—how awful it felt.

He brought his fist down again.

CRACK.

Reese's head jolted. Blood sprayed. Cheers turned into gasps. Some looked away. Some kept filming.

Xerxes raised his arm again.

No.

Not again.

Not like this.

"FUCK!" he roared, slamming his fist into the ground just beside Reese's head. A hard thud echoed as his knuckles hit asphalt.

He panted. Chest rising. Blood dripping. Hands trembling. He looked down at Reese—face swollen, bleeding, barely conscious—and something in him shattered.

"...Let's stop this shit…" Xerxes muttered, his voice hoarse, hollow. He pushed himself off Reese, still shaking, as if disgusted with his own hands.

Dick didn't move. He stood a few steps back, wide-eyed. He'd never seen someone switch from calm to killer that fast. Xerxes looked like he had to force himself to stop. Like something inside him snapped, then barely got put back together. And for a second… Dick was scared of his friend.

Reese blinked at the sky, tasting iron. His face throbbed with every heartbeat. The pain didn't hurt as much as the thought: I couldn't do anything. The guy screamed his moves like a game character and still beat the hell out of me. He could've ended me right there. He covered his bleeding nose, dizzy and humiliated.

Troy clenched his jaw, hiding the unease in his chest. He watched as Xerxes stood there like a war-torn statue. What the hell are you, Raven? A street punk? A pro? Or just a lunatic with demons in his head? The crowd was silent now—watching, judging, whispering. If word got out that Troy's crew got wrecked by one guy… this wasn't over.

Xerxes turned his back on them all. He didn't care what they thought. He didn't care about the eyes watching him, or the phones filming. I didn't stop because they told me to. I stopped because… I was about to lose myself again. Like I did with those bastards who hurt Xander. I promised I'd never go back there. But it's still inside me. That rage. That monster. And it's hungry.

As he stepped away, chest still rising and falling, a few voices cut through the tense quiet.

"Damn. He looked like a final boss."

"More like the unhinged MC of some dark anime."

Laughter. Nervous, awkward. But no one stepped forward.

Xerxes wiped the blood off his lip, the adrenaline still coursing through his veins. Dick hovered nearby, checking him over with wide eyes like a nurse who hadn't signed up for this level of chaos.

"You good?" Dick asked, his voice a little shaky.

Xerxes chuckled breathlessly. "Yeah. Just another Thursday."

Dick tried to laugh but failed. "You looked like you were about to kill him, man."

Xerxes' expression shifted. A flicker of something cold passed behind his eyes. He didn't answer right away.

Then—

A loud voice cut through the murmuring crowd.

"Is that how you did it, Xerxes?"

Everyone turned.

"Is that how you destroyed the guys responsible for your twin's death?"

A hush fell over the scene like a heavy blanket. Even the birds seemed to pause.

There, standing near the gates, was the guy from the park. Tall. Calm. His eyes sharp like they'd seen too much. His voice wasn't angry—just loud enough to land like a slap.

Xerxes froze. His shoulders stiffened, fists twitching at his sides.

Dick's eyes darted between them.

"Wait… twin? What the hell is he talking about?"

The students around them murmured.

"Twin?"

"Death?"

"Did he say… destroyed?"

Reese, still half-sprawled with blood under his nose, blinked at the stranger in confusion.

Troy's group exchanged glances, tension curling in their gut. Suddenly, this fight didn't feel so clean. So ordinary.

Xerxes didn't reply.

He couldn't.

Not yet.

His heart thudded like a war drum in his chest.

"So it's out," he thought grimly. "So what now, huh?"

Then, slowly, he lifted his head, wearing that damn half-smirk again.

"…You sure talk a lot for a stranger."

The man stepped forward, his boots crunching against the gravel as the students instinctively made way for him. His presence alone felt like it pulled the air tighter—too composed, too calm for someone who'd just called out a fighter like Xerxes.

He stopped a few feet away, hands in his pockets, gaze sharp and assessing.

"Name's Kael Donovan," he said, voice clear and casual, like he hadn't just dropped a live grenade in the middle of the campus.

"Fourth year. Criminology."

He tilted his head slightly, smirking.

"I've been hearing your name, Raven. Watching, too. But seeing you in action… damn."

He glanced at Reese, still groaning on the floor.

"Didn't expect you to be that reckless. Or that brutal."

His tone was laced with curiosity, but his eyes had weight—like he was measuring Xerxes for something. Not just strength. Something else.

"So tell me…" Kael's gaze sharpened. "Is that how you did it back then? Beat them until they couldn't breathe? Until they wished they were dead?"

Murmurs spread again through the crowd.

Xerxes didn't move. He didn't blink.

His voice was low when he spoke, almost growling.

"Watch your mouth, Donovan."

Kael just smiled, unfazed.

"Relax. I'm not here to fight." He shrugged. "Just wondering if the rumors were true."

His eyes lingered a second longer on Xerxes… then he turned his back and started walking away.

"See you around… 'Main Character.'"

Kael paused just a few steps away, glancing over his shoulder like he almost forgot something.

"Ah, right," he said, nodding toward the small crowd that was already beginning to break apart.

"Don't stress too much about what happened today." He gestured with a lazy hand toward the still-bleeding Reese and the group of students whispering and counting money.

"This kind of thing? Pretty normal around here."

Then he pointed toward the edge of the courtyard.

A security guard stood there, leaned back against a post, arms crossed, a half-eaten sandwich in one hand, watching everything like he was enjoying a street performance.

Didn't lift a finger.

Didn't call for help.

Didn't even flinch.

Xerxes' eyes narrowed as the realization sank in.

No one tried to stop the fight.

Not a single adult. Not faculty. Not staff. Not even campus security.

And now that he was really looking… he noticed the subtle handoffs. Cash. Digital transactions. Bets.

They were betting on it.

On him.

Xerxes clenched his jaw.

Kael caught his look and grinned again, as if reading his mind.

"Welcome to Arena," he said. "Hope you survive the experience."

Then he turned and walked off into the campus crowd like he hadn't just dropped a truth bomb.

Xerxes stayed still, lips pressed tight.

This place wasn't just a school.

It was a stage.

A pit.

And whether he liked it or not, he was in the ring.