Peter stood frozen in the school backyard, his muscles tense, his mind racing. His fists clenched at his sides, ready for a fight. The group of masked figures surrounding him had appeared out of nowhere, their black robes fluttering in the wind.
"Warn me?" Peter scoffed, his voice sharp with defiance. "Why? I don't even know who you are. And even if you know me—what's in it for you? What do you gain by giving me a warning?"
The leader of the masked figures let out a low, mocking laugh. He stepped forward, closing the distance between them. His voice was deep, almost mechanical behind the mask.
"We were sent to deliver a message," the figure said. "Your latest act of weakness—your emotions—they're becoming a problem. The Order of Kings has noticed. This softness… it will cost you one day. You've been told to shut it all down. Cut off your ties. Lock away your heart. Only then can you reclaim your title as the Ruler—the one without mercy."
Peter's eyes narrowed. He didn't flinch. Instead, he stared directly into the dark holes of the leader's mask, his voice steady but filled with anger.
"I own my life," he growled. "Every choice, every mistake—it's mine. You don't get to decide what I do or where I go. And that title? 'The Ruler'? I haven't been called that in a long time. I haven't stepped into the fighting pits in months. That part of my life is over."
The masked figure didn't respond at first. Instead, he leaped onto the school's rusty fence with unnatural ease, balancing like a shadow against the fading sunlight. Then, he pointed a gloved finger straight at Peter.
"The God of War himself sent this message," the figure declared. "Get back in line… or face the consequences when the time comes."
A cold silence followed. Peter's expression darkened. His grip tightened until his knuckles turned white. Slowly, he looked at each masked figure around him, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper.
"Fuck you," he spat. "Fuck the God of War. And fuck the Order of Kings. I'm done with all of you—forever. Nothing will change that."
For a moment, there was no sound. Then—laughter. The leader threw his head back, his laugh echoing across the empty schoolyard, bouncing off the walls like a ghostly warning. When he finally stopped, he pointed at Peter again.
"Oh, Ruler," he sneered. "There's something else. Someone else is watching you. We don't know who. We don't know how many. But they've been following you… hiding in the shadows. And you haven't even noticed. Not even during your last fight with Luke."
Peter's breath hitched. Someone's been tracking me?
The masked figure wasn't finished. "And one more thing," he added. "Be careful. The police are searching for whoever beat Luke and his men half to death. They're asking questions."
Before Peter could respond, the figures stepped back—and then, in the blink of an eye, they were gone. Vanished into thin air, as if they had never been there at all.
Peter didn't move. He wasn't shocked by their disappearance—he'd seen stranger things. What stunned him was how much they knew. Every detail. Every secret.
Just as he was about to sit down and process everything, the school bell rang.
BAM! BAM! BAM!
A voice crackled over the loudspeaker: "School's over! All students must leave the premises immediately!"
Peter blinked. "Wait… how long was I out here?" he muttered to himself. "I was talking to those freaks and completely forgot about class!"
Shaking his head, he turned to leave—but then, a sound.
CRACK.
A twig snapping.
Someone was there.
Peter spun around, his instincts kicking in. Before the hidden figure could run, he lunged forward, grabbing them by the collar and slamming them hard against the brick wall. The impact was brutal—the figure crumpled to the ground, unconscious.
Peter stepped closer, his heart pounding. The person was wearing a school uniform… and a blue mask.
With a sharp tug, he ripped the mask off—and froze.
"Nelly?"
To Be Continued...