Peter's Room
Tap, tap, tap.
The sound of hard knocking echoed through Peter's room. His mother's voice followed, sharp and impatient.
"Peter, wake up fast! You're late—it's almost 8:30 AM! Have you forgotten? Today is school, and it's Tuesday!"
She didn't just knock. She slapped his back repeatedly, each hit harder than the last, until Peter finally groaned and opened his eyes.
Peter yawned loudly, stretching his arms and legs across the bed. He turned to his mother, his voice still heavy with sleep.
"Good morning, Ma," he mumbled.
But before he could even sit up—SLAP!
His mother's palm struck his face with such force that the sound echoed down the hallway. Peter's head snapped to the side, his cheek burning. He turned back to her, eyes wide with anger and confusion.
"Why did you do that, Mom? What did I do now? Why must you always wake me up like this?"
His mother's face was tight with frustration.
"Where were you last night? We waited until 11 PM, and you were nowhere to be found! I keep warning you about your reckless attitude and behavior. One day, it will bring heavy problems down on you! But instead of your father seeing this, he always supports you whenever I bring it up. I hate it! And I'm starting to dislike you as my son!"
She sighed deeply, her chest rising and falling with anger. Then, without another word, she turned and stormed out of his room, slamming the door behind her.
Peter sat there, stunned. His mother's last words hung in the air like a dark cloud.
"I'm starting to dislike you as my son."
The words repeated in his mind as he slowly got up and prepared for school.
The School – SS1 Class
Miss Tina was already teaching when a deep voice cut through the lesson.
"Please, Ma, may I come in? I'm sorry I'm late."
Every head in the classroom turned toward the door. There stood Peter, his uniform slightly wrinkled, his eyes tired.
Miss Tina paused, then nodded.
"Come in," she said.
Peter walked to his seat, his footsteps heavy. But before he could sit down, Miss Tina added:
"See me after school, young man."
Peter looked up, nodded slowly, and dropped into his chair.
Just as he settled, Nelly slid into the seat beside him.
"Uhmm… hi, Peter. Morning," she whispered.
Peter didn't look at her. He just rested his head on his desk, his face hidden in his arms.
Nelly frowned. She reached over and pinched his right hand—once, twice. No reaction.
She pinched harder.
Finally, Peter lifted his head, his eyes dark and annoyed.
"Morning, Nelly. Now, what's the problem?"
Nelly smiled, unfazed by his mood.
"You don't like long talk, do you? Alright, I'll go straight to the point. What about Josiah? Where is he? I didn't see him at the devotional ground this morning. I thought since you two are best friends, you'd come in together. So… where is he? Is he okay?"
Peter exhaled sharply.
"He's alright. Now stop disturbing me."
He dropped his head back onto the desk.
But Nelly wasn't done.
"I also didn't see Luke today—not at devotion, not in his class. I asked around, but his friends and classmates don't know anything. Then one of his best friends told me to ask you."
This time, Peter didn't raise his head. Instead, he slowly turned his face toward her, his eyes cold and deadly.
Nelly froze.
"S-sorry," she stammered, quickly turning away.
She hurried back to her seat as Miss Tina continued the lesson.
Miss Tina, stood at the front of the class, answering questions from the students as she continued her lesson. The atmosphere was calm, filled with the sound of scribbling pens and occasional whispers.
Then, suddenly, the school bell rang—three sharp chimes cutting through the air. A student's voice called out excitedly, "Break time!"
Miss Tina paused mid-sentence, glancing at the clock. She closed her book with a soft thud, gathered her papers from the desk, and prepared to leave. As she walked toward the door, her eyes briefly met Peter's. She gave him a knowing look—one that held something unspoken. Peter simply nodded in response, his expression calm but thoughtful.
Once Miss Tina had left the classroom, Peter stood up slowly, his movements deliberate and quiet. He stepped out into the hallway, his footsteps echoing lightly against the tiled floor. Instead of heading toward the noisy cafeteria or the crowded schoolyard, he turned in the opposite direction, making his way toward the school's backyard.
The backyard was usually a lively place during breaks, filled with students chatting, laughing, or sitting in small groups. But today, as Peter pushed open the creaky gate and stepped inside, he was met with an eerie silence. The place was completely empty—no voices, no movement, nothing.
Peter frowned, his eyes scanning the deserted space. "This is strange," he muttered to himself as he walked forward. "Except when school is over, this place is always full. So why is it empty now?"
Just as he spoke those words, a deep, chilling voice cut through the silence from behind him.
"That's because they felt my presence."
Peter froze for a split second before turning around slowly. Standing before him was a figure dressed entirely in black—a long, dark coat, gloves, and a mask covering their entire face. The stranger was about the same height as Peter but broader, with a muscular build that suggested strength and training.
Peter's guard went up immediately. His voice was steady but firm as he demanded, "Who are you? And what are you doing here?"
The masked figure tilted their head slightly, as if amused. "Who I am doesn't really matter," they replied smoothly. "What I'm doing here—and the information I bring—is what's important… Ruler."
At that last word, Peter's eyes darkened. His calm demeanor shifted instantly, replaced by a sharp intensity. "How do you know my identity?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous.
The masked figure let out a low, mocking laugh. "Who wouldn't know about you?" they said, spreading their arms slightly. "The strongest of the strong. The deadliest of all. We know you… and we've been watching you."
Peter's confusion grew. "We?" he repeated, his gaze narrowing.
"Yes… we," the figure replied. Then, slowly, they raised both hands into the air—a silent signal.
Peter's instincts screamed at him to look up. When he did, his breath caught in his throat.
Above him, perched on the rooftops and walls surrounding the backyard, were more figures—dozens of them, all dressed in black, all watching him with unseen eyes.
The air grew heavy with tension. Peter clenched his fists, his mind racing. Who are these people? What do they want?
But before he could react further, the masked figure in front of him spoke again, their voice dripping with dark amusement.
Don't be afraid ruler we are not here to fight you, but to warn".
To be continued…