Unspoken Rules

Xavier woke up to the suffocating air of Segment 10 dorms. Sweat, noise, cramped spaces—the lowest ranks lived in filth. His muscles throbbed from yesterday's match against Orin, reminding him that one mistake had cost him the win.

But losing didn't mean stopping.

As he sat up, rubbing the soreness from his neck, something felt off. He checked under his mattress, his bag, even his pockets. Nothing.

'Where's my damn watch?'

A sinking feeling settled in his chest. The academy-issued watch was everything—identification, transactions, ranking updates. Without it, he was a ghost—no records, no rights.

'They forgot to give it to me.'

His fists clenched. Without his watch, he couldn't receive his daily 5 Vex allowance. And in the academy, no Vex meant no food, no supplies—nothing.

He shoved past the bodies crowding the dorm, heading straight for administration.

The office was tucked behind the training wing, where students registered their fights. Here, challenges were made official, ranks were swapped, and disputes were settled before blood spilled outside sanctioned matches.

The clerk barely looked up as Xavier approached.

"Problem?" she asked.

"They forgot to give me my watch."

She sighed, tapping at her screen lazily. "Name?"

"Xavier Kael."

Another tap. A pause.

"Huh. Looks like your entry wasn't processed properly. Should've been handled on arrival."

"I know."

She grabbed a fresh watch from a drawer, synced it with his profile, and tossed it onto the counter.

"There. Try not to lose it."

Xavier grabbed the device, fastening it to his wrist. The screen lit up—Rank 306. His daily allowance of 5 Vex displayed at the top.

'Finally.'

Now he wasn't invisible.

As he turned to leave, trouble was already waiting outside.

Three fighters stood near the exit—Segment 9 rankers, all between 290 and 280. Not strong enough to be untouchable, but high enough to push around those below them.

The tallest of the three had dark braided hair, sharp cheekbones, and a thick scar running across his chin. His stance was relaxed, but there was confidence in his posture—the kind that came from knowing he rarely had to fight for his position.

The second fighter, slightly shorter with a stockier build, had a shaved head and arms lined with faded bruises. He had the look of someone used to throwing punches, but not always landing them cleanly.

The last one was lean, his narrow eyes constantly scanning the area as if expecting trouble. His fingers twitched at his sides, like he wasn't sure whether to stay back or jump in.

The tallest one smirked. "So, you finally got your watch?"

Xavier kept his expression neutral. "Yeah."

The stocky one chuckled. "That means you've got Vex now too. You know how it goes—you want to keep it, you pay up."

Xavier's jaw tightened. They weren't asking.

'They want me to hand over my daily Vex like it's a tax for existing in Segment 10.'

"I'm good," he said, starting to walk past them.

The tallest fighter blocked his path. "That's not how it works. Lower ranks pay up—it's the system."

Xavier exhaled, staying calm. They weren't worried about an official seeing this or about losing a fight. They were confident in their position, certain that they could take what they wanted.

"You want me to fight you for it?" Xavier asked bluntly.

The braided fighter tilted his head slightly. "You'd lose."

"Maybe," Xavier said coolly. "But if I win, you swap ranks with me."

Silence.

The three exchanged glances. Their confidence didn't waver, but they hadn't expected him to push back so quickly.

Before the tension could boil over, a new voice cut through the standoff.

"Leave him alone."

The tone was calm, firm. Different.

Xavier turned to see another fighter approaching—a Segment 9 ranker, but stronger. His frame was lean but packed with muscle, his dark eyes sharp, calculating. A jagged scar stretched across his collarbone, and his stance held a quiet authority—not aggressive, but absolute.

The other bullies didn't react with hesitation or fear. Instead, there was a moment of recognition, a silent understanding of hierarchy. They weren't afraid of officials or punishment—**this was just a game of control.**

"You heard me," the fighter continued, walking past them toward Xavier. "He's not paying."

The tallest fighter let out a breath, giving a small shrug. "Not worth the hassle," he muttered, waving the others off.

Xavier didn't move. He wasn't sure why this fighter had stepped in.

The ranker glanced at him. "Meet me later in Segment 9. We need to talk."

Then, without another word, he was gone.

Xavier frowned.

'Why the hell does a Segment 9 ranker want to talk to me?'