Quinn, Vorden, and Peter were escorted by the second-years into a secluded section of the building.
Sitting casually on the staircase just outside was a tall man with brown hair tied back in a neat ponytail.
"We've brought them, just like you asked, Momo," one of the escorts reported.
"You can leave now," Momo replied calmly. The second-years obeyed without hesitation, disappearing back the way they came.
"I've been hearing rumors," Momo began, his eyes locking on Vorden, "that a high-level student's been hanging around with the bottom ranks. Tell me—why would you do that? You see, when we start treating the low-levels like they're worth something, they get… prideful." His gaze shifted to Quinn. "Like this brat—staring at me without an ounce of fear."
That was the last straw for Quinn. His fists clenched, and before he could think twice, he lunged forward, aiming a punch straight for Momo's chest. But Momo slipped out of the way effortlessly, sending Quinn stumbling off-balance and nearly toppling over.
Vorden at present hadn't touched anyone else other than Quin or Peter so right now this was bad without having an ability but he seized the moment, reaching out to grab him, but Momo dodged again with ease. "Do you really think you could lay a hand on me without even knowing what your ability is?" he said with a faint smirk.
"I'm not here to fight. Consider this… a warning."
And with that, Momo turned and walked away, leaving the three of them standing in tense silence.
"Do you think he's serious?" Peter asked, frowning. "I mean… stuff like this happens outside, sure, but in a military school? Won't the teachers try to stop it?"
"They won't," Quinn said flatly. "It actually works in their favor. They only care about producing the strong, so they'll turn a blind eye. In the end, the weak will just end up relying on the military for protection."
Quin glanced at Vorden then he spoke directly. "Vorden… it's better if you stop hanging out with us."
"Why should I listen to them?" Vorden snapped, his sudden outburst catching Quinn off guard.
"They won't come after you—but they will come after us. And you can't follow us everywhere we go and we will be bullied because you refuse to understand."
Vorden's jaw tightened. "Fine then. Have it your way." Without another word, he turned and walked off, his steps sharp with anger.
Peter looked uncertain. "Should we go after him?"
"No," Quinn replied quietly. "It's better this way." Still, as he said it, a heaviness settled in his chest.
Although it looked like Vorden had stormed off in anger at Quinn's words, that wasn't the truth. He didn't want Quinn getting hurt because of him—but he also had no intention of letting the second years get their way.
If they wanted trouble, he would give it to them. Vorden wasn't leaving things as they were—he was going after every single one of them.
---
After Vorden stormed off, Peter and Quinn decided to head back for class. That's when they noticed a small group of first-year students loitering near the entrance.
"Hey, Riley, how are we gonna meet the second years' demand? We have to give them 50 credits today," one of the boys muttered.
Riley frowned, clearly struggling to come up with a plan—until his eyes landed on Peter and Quinn. Noticing the watches on their wrists, a sly grin spread across his face.
"Hey, you two, stop right there," Riley called out. "We've got to collect 50 credits today for the second years, and lucky for us… you're going to help."
Peter's brows furrowed. "But that's not fair. We only get 10 credits—how are we supposed to give them to you?"
"Do you think it's fair for the second years to demand credits from us?" Riley snapped back. "Now stop whining and hand them over."
Quinn wanted to fight back, but the students in front of him were all around level 2 to 2.5—while he was only 1.5. Even if he wanted to resist, the numbers weren't in his favor. Reluctantly, he handed over his credits, watching Peter do the same.
As Quinn and Peter walked away, Quinn clenched his fists, a quiet fire burning in his chest. He swore to himself that he would grow stronger—strong enough to make them regret ever crossing him.