The morning sun filtered through pale clouds, spilling its light across rooftops and narrow streets. Steven rose with a steady calm, stretching as warmth seeped into his bones.
The system's quiet hum stirred awake within him.
[Body functions stable. Recovery complete.][Strength: +0.5. Agility: +0.5.]
His chest expanded with a slow, deliberate breath. Muscles that had once ached under the strain of training now felt responsive—spring-loaded, almost eager. He rolled his shoulders, flexed his hands, and for the first time in years, felt like his body was no longer lagging behind his will.
He dressed with quiet efficiency, slung his bag across one shoulder, and stepped outside. The air was crisp, tinged faintly with the smell of fried dough from a street vendor down the block.
The alley he always passed through yawned before him, shadowed and silent. He slowed instinctively. The last time he had walked here, fists and boots had rained down on him.
Today, no one waited. Just rustling trash bins, a stray cat darting between cans, and the sound of shoes scuffing against pavement far away.
His strides lengthened. Each step was no longer a retreat from trouble but a march toward it.
Nothing came.
For now.
By the time he reached school, the gates were alive with chatter. Students streamed in—laughing, yawning, exchanging notes, comparing plans for the upcoming break. The ordinary bustle of youth.
Steven slipped into the classroom, his usual spot near the window catching the pale morning light. He pulled out a notebook, his movements calm, controlled.
The door creaked.
Veronica entered.
It was as if the air shifted around her. Conversations faltered, eyes turned, the rhythm of the classroom rearranged itself around her presence. She scanned the room quickly, searching. When her gaze landed on Steven, her lips curled upward into a genuine smile—one that carried none of her usual guardedness.
Without hesitation, she crossed the room and sat down beside him. Her movements seemed casual, but the decisiveness in them did not go unnoticed.
"Hey, Steven," she said, bright and direct. "Why weren't you here yesterday?"
Steven turned to her with a relaxed smile, his tone easy. "Wasn't feeling too well. Decided to rest up."
Her brow softened. "Better today?"
"Much better. Actually…" He chuckled lightly. "I've got a good feeling about today."
"That's good." She reached into her bag, pulling out a small plastic container. "Here—homemade chocolate chip cookies. Want one?"
Steven blinked, momentarily surprised. "You baked these?"
"Yup." She held them out, a little grin tugging her lips. "Don't judge too harshly."
He took one, bit into it, and paused. His eyebrows lifted. "Wait. You made these?"
She nodded.
"They're amazing." His voice carried no hesitation. "Crisp edges, soft inside… and the chocolate melts just right. Honestly, these are the best cookies I've had."
Color bloomed faintly in Veronica's cheeks. She brushed back a strand of hair. "Really? Thanks."
Around them, murmurs stirred like ripples across a pond.
"Did Veronica just… offer Steven cookies?""She's never done that before.""Our goddess… is falling for him?""No way, no way. She's supposed to be untouchable!""Forget it. Only Steven actually has a chance.""He's good at everything—academics, sports… what girl wouldn't notice?""But what about Arnold? He's still in the picture.""Arnold's different. Smart. Rich. His family's factory chain practically runs half the city's fashion supply. The guy studied in France.""Exchange program? Nah, that was business training. He's basically his dad's heir already."
The whispers continued like static, but Veronica seemed unfazed. She let them look, let them speculate. If anything, the gleam in her eye suggested she knew exactly what she was doing.
The teacher's arrival silenced the storm. Books opened. Chalk scraped across the board. For the moment, the world settled into routine.
During a free period, the football field filled with energy. Students scattered—some chasing the ball, others lounging on the grass. The cool breeze carried shouts and laughter across the open air.
Steven joined a casual match, jogging to the field's center. He hadn't played much before—certainly not enough to stand out.
[Activity Detected: Playing Soccer.][Skill Unlocked: Basic Football (Proficiency: 1/10).]
Knowledge slid into his body like a blade into its sheath. Footwork patterns, timing of passes, angles of interception—it was all there, fresh yet familiar.
The ball came his way. His foot met it cleanly. A pass turned into a steal, a stumble into a precise dribble. Within minutes, he was weaving between defenders, intercepting passes, threading through narrow gaps like water through stone.
Cheers erupted. Students who had dismissed him before now tracked his every move.
On the sidelines, Veronica sat on a bench, her posture relaxed but her gaze sharp. She followed him with an intensity few noticed.
He's different now, she thought. Not just faster. More assured. Like he knows exactly what he's capable of.
Her lips curved faintly. A thought bloomed unbidden—Maybe Leon was right to fear him.
Nearby, Leon stood stiff, arms crossed. His eyes darkened as he watched. The way Veronica's gaze lingered on Steven made his stomach knot with bitter fire.
Unable to hold it back, he stepped toward her.
"So… you've chosen him now?" His voice was low, edged with venom. "Steven over me. Over Arnold."
Veronica looked up, utterly calm. "I haven't chosen anyone. Steven and I are friends."
Leon scoffed. "You never acted like that with me. Or Arnold."
She folded her arms, her voice steady. "Want to know why? Because I have standards. Leon, you bully those weaker than you and crumble in front of those stronger. That's not strength—it's cowardice."
His jaw tightened, but she pressed on.
"And Arnold? He's impressive, yes—smart, rich. But character matters more to me than reputation. Money and brains don't mean anything if the heart behind them is rotten."
Leon's smirk wavered. "You don't know him like I do. Arnold's worse than you think. He doesn't fight fair. He wears people down, toys with them, and when they're trapped, he crushes them. If he sees you getting close to Steven, you'll both be in his sights."
Veronica's gaze didn't falter. "Then we'll see how strong Steven really is."
The final bell rang. Teachers dismissed their classes with reminders for the break.
"The winter holiday begins tomorrow. Three weeks off. Enjoy your time wisely. Don't neglect revision—we'll meet again in the new year."
Cheers exploded. Students buzzed about trips, gaming marathons, family visits.
Steven packed his things quietly and left, slipping through the thinning crowd.
As he neared the alleyway shortcut, a familiar figure caught his eye.
Leon.
Slipping into the shadows.
Steven narrowed his eyes. The last time he'd followed someone here, he had been beaten bloody. But today, hesitation burned away in the fire of resolve.
He followed.
At the far end, Leon stood with the same two college bullies. Their voices carried through the narrow passage, sharp and heated.
Steven stepped into the open. His voice cut the air like steel.
"So, you're here. Perfect. I was hoping we'd meet."
The bullies turned. Recognition flared. One sneered. "Oh, the brat from last time. Didn't we already teach you to stay down?"
Steven smiled faintly. "Guess I'm a slow learner. Maybe you'll need to remind me."
The first bully lunged, fist swinging wide. Steven shifted aside, but the man was faster than expected—knuckles grazed Steven's shoulder with a thud. Pain jolted through him.
He grit his teeth.
[Combat Engaged.][Martial Arts Skills Activated.]
Steven's body moved. He caught the bully's wrist mid-swing, twisted, and drove his elbow into the man's ribs. A dull crack echoed. The man gasped, staggered.
The second came charging, heavier, aiming low. Steven dropped into a crouch, sweeping his leg across the ground. The thug stumbled, but not cleanly—his shoulder rammed into Steven's chest, knocking him back against the wall.
The impact rattled his ribs.
"Not bad, brat," the bully spat. "But you're not walking away this time."
Steven's lips tightened. He pushed off the wall, fists up. His body burned, but his stance was steady.
They came at him together. Blows rained. He ducked, blocked, countered—his knuckles striking jaw, his knee hammering into gut. One wild punch clipped his cheek, snapping his head to the side.
Blood welled at the corner of his mouth. He licked it away, eyes narrowing.
"Better than last time," Steven muttered, voice low. "But still not enough."
He surged forward. A straight jab cracked across the first bully's nose. A pivoting sidekick slammed into the second's shoulder, sending him sprawling against the bricks.
[Taekwondo: +1.][Boxing: +1.][Reflexes: +0.5.][Strength: +0.5.]
The alley rang with groans. The bullies writhed on the ground, clutching their injuries.
Steven exhaled, chest heaving but controlled. His knuckles ached, his cheek throbbed, but he stood tall.
His gaze slid to Leon.
The boy froze. His bravado cracked. Knees buckled. He collapsed, trembling. "Don't… don't hurt me. Please. I didn't mean it! I was just angry. I didn't know they'd actually hit you like that. I won't do it again!"
Steven stepped closer, eyes calm and steady.
"Yesterday, you had them teach me a lesson. Today, I'm returning the favor." He leaned in slightly. "Here's yours: stay away from Veronica."
Leon's lips trembled. "She's not even your girlfriend…"
Steven's mouth curved faintly. "Not yet. But I'm not chasing a trophy. I'm proving myself to her—day by day. Because my queen deserves high standards."
Leon swallowed hard. "Even if I back off… Arnold's still coming. You can't win against him."
Steven's eyes darkened, voice a low growl.
"Then let him come."