'A serialised quest?'
John's eyes shone in the bright light. In his experience, serialisation meant that these two weren't just random side characters; they were the gateway to a much larger narrative.
'A serialised quest means there are layers of secrets buried here,' he concluded, his pulse quickening. 'Now I'd pay almost anything for a mind-reading ability. It would save me so much trouble.'
As the duration of his Frame Recognition flickered out, he didn't immediately activate it again. He was down to only six Mental Points, a dangerously low threshold. If a fight broke out, he'd be walking into a tough spot, without a doubt.
'I should try the easy way first,' he strategised, leaning back in his seat and watching the room out of the corner of his eye. 'I need more information about them, something deeper than just the names. I should try to act friendly. Use the prestige I earned from beating Alfred.'
His plan was simple in theory: use their curiosity, or even their arrogance, as an exploit to get close. He had been the talk of the class since the fight. Surely, these two would be interested in the zero-score anomaly that fought like a veteran.
In the worst-case scenario, he would end up in a spar with them, which was another way of gathering information for him. A person's fighting style often revealed more than a conversation ever could.
"...And here we end our class," the teacher finally barked, slamming the desk in front of him. "Starting tomorrow, we will begin the actual curriculum of the first year. Classes start at ten sharp. Do not be late, or the consequences will be severe."
The master finished by speaking about the week's schedule, which instructors would be teaching them and the locations of the various lectures. Aside from the specialised combat training, which would take place in special training halls in a different building, all lectures would be held right here.
"Time to act," John whispered.
He waited as the students stood up, the room filling with the sudden scrape of chairs and the low hum of chatter. He kept his eyes lowered, tracking the feet of his targets until they moved toward the exit. He followed at a distance, waiting for the right moment to make his move.
However, reality rarely followed a script.
His first target was the male student. Up close, the boy didn't have the monstrous physical bulk of Alfred, but he radiated a more refined, dangerous aura. He had short, vibrant blue hair, a pair of silver earrings that caught the light, and sharp, faint blue eyes that seemed not to care about anything in the world.
The moment he stepped into the corridor, he was instantly surrounded. But it wasn't a random group of admirers. John recognised the faces immediately; these were the same students who had been shooting him daggers since he beat Alfred. They were close friends with Alfred, obviously.
Seeing the blue-haired boy laughing and acting carefree with the very people who wanted John's head on a spike made him halt. Attempting to be friendly with someone who was currently surrounded by a hostile pack was a suicide.
'This won't do,' John decided, aborting the approach. 'If I go over there now, I'll just start a fight.'
He pivoted his attention to the second target: the female student. She was the polar opposite of the blue-haired boy. She had long brown hair that she left completely unstyled, allowing it to flow wildly over her shoulders and back as she walked.
Her face was set in a mask of grim seriousness, and her brown eyes were so intense that John felt as though she could peer directly into a person's soul and read one's thoughts.
Unlike the boy, she was a total loner. She didn't interact with anyone, and she didn't linger. The moment the teacher dismissed them, she had moved in fast strides toward the exit, vanishing out of sight in a matter of seconds.
Watching his plans crumble before he even started, John stood in the middle of the hallway, scratching his head. 'This is going to be a lot harder than I thought,' he inwardly sighed.
He decided the best course of action was to retreat to the safety of his dorm, recharge his Mental Points, and rethink his approach.
"Hey, you."
Before he could take a single step toward the staircase, a shadow fell over him. A tall student, someone with the height and reach of a professional basketball player, flashed forward, blocking his path.
John looked up, squinting at the newcomer, and instantly recognised him. It was the same tall youth whose name was Luke, the one who spoke out loud at the admission ceremony.
"What?" John felt appreciative towards the youth, as thanks to him, he had an opening to pay back double at Alfred. Yet, he wasn't in the mood for small talk, and this student wasn't on his curiosity list. "Step aside. I'm tired, and I want to rest."
Luke didn't budge. He looked down at John with an obvious determination and recklessness.
"Not before you fight me!"
Luke pointed a thumb at his own chest in a display of prideful arrogance that made John raise a sceptical eyebrow. He looked at Luke and inwardly sighed.
"I saw your fight with that loser Alfred yesterday," Luke continued, clearly mistaking John's silence for an assessment of his sudden request. "I'm way better than him, far stronger! You won't get a victory that easily against me. I won't be caught by whatever trick you use."
"Sorry, not interested," John said flatly. He reached out and firmly shoved Luke's arm aside, turning on his feet to walk in a different direction. He didn't have the Mental Points to waste on a pointless fight.
Yet, Luke was stubborn; he blurred across the floor, jumping to block John's path once more with a persistent thud of his heavy boots.
"I can tell you are very strong, and I want to challenge every strong student in our class! It's the only way to grow!"
"Not my business," John countered. He could tell Luke was the battle maniac archetype, easily triggered, hyper-focused on strength, yet honest and devoid of evil intentions.
In John's experience, such figures were usually the ones who suffered the most in complex systems, and he had no desire to waste his precious Mental Points on someone so transparent.
"What's wrong, hidden prodigy? Are you scared to fight Luke, the prodigy son of the Lockheart family?"
Just as John prepared to push past again, a different voice cut through the corridor like a serrated blade. The words were loud enough to stop John in his tracks.
He didn't stop because the insult triggered him, but because the speaker was one of the students standing in the circle around his primary target, the blue-haired youth.
John turned around, letting out a sharp snort of amusement. He didn't look at the speaker first; instead, he swept his eyes across the other students in the hallway.
The atmosphere had shifted instantly. He noticed soft, frantic whispers spreading through the crowd. Several students were pointing at Luke, their expressions a mix of pity and recognition.
John realised the mocking words weren't directed at him, but at the Lockheart name, at Luke.
"What's wrong, Bernard? Do you want to fight me instead?" Luke's voice dropped, dripping with a sudden fury. As John had expected, there was a deep-seated hatred between Luke and this troublemaker named Bernard.
"I'm just trying to help you, Luke!" Bernard shrugged and laughed, stepping forward from the elite group. "Or did you forget? Your mighty Lockheart family name is resting solely on your shoulders now, or what's left of it, anyway."