The Office of the President of Erold wasn't just a room—
it was a monument of authority.
Bathed in regal gold and polished obsidian, the space gleamed with quiet intimidation. The floors shimmered with a black shine, the windows projected atmospheric holograms of the city skyline, and a soft hum of encrypted surveillance filled the background. Everything in this room spoke of power, dominance—and paranoia.
President Darnel sat heavily behind a vast metallic desk, flanked by his ever-silent bodyguard. His personal assistant had just left to run another errand, leaving only the president and his most trusted security aide.
Darnel didn't look up. His voice was low, but sharp.
"Any news about the man called Unknown?"
The bodyguard answered without hesitation. "Nothing yet, sir. According to the Inspector General of MAD MAX, there's no trace of him in Erold, Melloparty, or Heroparty. He's disappeared completely."
The president frowned. "You mean to tell me this man came to Erold, disrupted its balance... and may not even be from this world?"
"Exactly. We have no existing record of him. No origin. No allies. No past."
Darnel's grip tightened around the edge of his desk. "If that's true, then we're all screwed."
He stood, turning to face a giant digital wall flickering with data.
"Double the bounty. Raise the price even higher. And tell them I want results—this time. Also, call the other two presidents. Let them know… the secret they've kept hidden is already leaking."
For a long moment, Darnel stood in silence, jaw clenched.
And somewhere, far from that office…
The one they feared most was smiling.
Melloparty University's entire compound pulsed with energy. The stands were packed with students, professors, and even press drones, all swarming for one thing: The First Match of the Inter-Level Games.
Cheers exploded as the first team entered the stadium.
Laz led the squad like a seasoned warrior. Aurora flanked him, followed by Hollande's heir. Their steps were coordinated, their faces calm. Their strategy was clear—win, and win hard.
Then came the second team. One by one, students stepped into the field.
Last to enter was the boy who would silence every doubt.
Jake.
Wearing a sleek number seven jersey, his appearance stole the breath of half the stadium. For the first time, his face wasn't hidden. His sharp jawline and intense eyes were framed by short, dreaded blue hair. He walked with the coolness of someone who didn't need to prove himself—someone who knew the outcome before the battle even began.
The girls screamed. Students whispered. Even the announcers hesitated.
Elena, watching from the front row, couldn't look away. He'd always been quiet, distant… but here, under the sun and noise, he looked invincible.
The First Half
The whistle blew.
Laz's team surged forward with brutal speed. Their passes were tight, triangular, relentless. Aurora and Laz synced like they shared one brain, creating openings faster than Jake's team could react.
Within the first ten minutes—1–0.By the twenty-fifth—2–0.
Jake's team, pieced together last minute, struggled to connect. Everyone looked lost—everyone but Jake. He wasn't panicking. He was watching.
And when the ball finally touched his foot, everything changed.
Jake intercepted at midfield, glided past a defender, broke through the center. One-on-one with the keeper, he flicked the ball left—
Foul.
The referee blew the whistle. A penalty was awarded. The crowd booed as the goalkeeper got off scot-free despite the reckless challenge.
Jake stepped up.
No pause. No showboating.
Goal. 2–1.
Halftime
The locker room was silent.
Jake, towel around his shoulders, stood tall. "Switch formation. Left and right backs—push forward when we attack. I'll control the midfield. All passes come to me. Trust me—I'll feed you."
None of them had spoken to Jake before. But now… they listened.
Second Half
Jake received the ball and became the conductor of a new rhythm.
He drew defenders with each step, manipulating the space like it obeyed him. At minute 62, he carved through two defenders near the left flank, danced into the box, and scored.
2–2.
The crowd erupted. Girls shouted his name. Even Laz looked… amused?
But the game wasn't over. Laz's team pushed back hard. Minute 75—3–2. They scored again.
Then came the moment that sealed everything.
A long pass dropped to Jake just outside the box. One touch. A second. Then a rocket into the top right corner.
3–3.
He smiled.
The crowd lost control.
Laz's team was shaken. And at minute 89, after clearing a corner, Jake sprinted the full length of the field. With stunning composure, he buried the final goal.
4–3.
Game over.
Cheers. Screams. Silence from those who doubted.
Jake didn't celebrate. He just walked off the pitch. Quiet as always.
After the Match – Boys' Dormitory Showers
Steam filled the air. Water ran. No one spoke.
Jake bathed alone. Finished quietly.
But as he exited, dressed and ready to leave, one of Laz's teammates blocked his path.
"Hey, blue-haired freak," he spat. "Think you embarrassed us today? You're just a poor, pretty-faced loser."
Jake stared calmly.
He smiled.
Then, with one hand, he pushed the boy aside and walked past. No words. No response.
Aurora and the others watched him leave.
And they knew they'd lost more than a match.
Later, Outside the School Park
Jake was straddling his hoverbike, ready to head off, when a familiar voice called out.
"Jake!"
He looked up.
Elena stood in front of the bike, her eyes soft.
"I want to go home with you," she said, stepping closer.
Jake blinked. Before he could answer—
"Miss Elena," Laz interrupted, stepping between them. "I'll take you."
Jake didn't wait. He turned the engine, and in a flash, he was gone.
Elena frowned, lips tightening. "Tch."
She refused to enter Laz's car. But he picked her up and placed her inside anyway, driving her off in silence.
That Evening – Jake's Room
The air buzzed with activity. Holograms hovered across the room—maps, encrypted images, tactical feeds of the Three Core Nations.
Jake studied them all, piecing something together.
Then a ping echoed. A direct call.
The name glowed on the screen: President Darnel.
Jake chuckled. "Took you long enough, old man."
He answered.
"Unknown," the president said, composed. "I have a job for you."
Jake leaned back. "What kind?"
"Escort."
Jake raised an eyebrow. He already knew what this was.
They were trying to bait him. Lure him out. Trap him.
But they didn't realize who they were dealing with.
"I'll take the job," he said. "But I want my 25 million Dillira. Paid in full."
"You'll have it," Darnel replied. Then the line went dead.
"Boss, you're smiling," Mary's voice chimed in his earpiece. "What are you thinking?"
Jake's grin widened.
"I'm thinking… those old fools still don't get it."
He looked toward the night sky outside his window.
"I'm not done yet. I'll make them suffer more. That's the real plan."
His thoughts drifted briefly to Elena… then stopped.
"I can't afford to get close. She's tied to Laz—and the last thing I want is to cause him trouble."
He turned away.
"It's better if I disappear from her story... before it begins."