The hallway lights of Sinclair Academy felt less like guidance and more like interrogation lamps. They highlighted every flaw, every drop of sweat, and right now, they were focused on Arjun. He kept his head down, clutching the strap of his worn backpack, a silent rule for survival here: The less space you take up, the less likely they are to step on you.
But the silent rule never worked.
A shadow fell over him, not the long, distorted kind from the weak afternoon sun, but the dense, immediate shadow of Rohan. Rohan 'The Wreck' was a walking monument to the Academy's unofficial hierarchy—broad, heavy-shouldered, and with a sneer that was less about malice and more about bored entitlement. Around him clustered his 'Vipers,' a circle of sneering enforcers.
"Well, well. Look what the janitor dragged in," Rohan's voice was a low, grating rumble that carried just enough to make other students freeze and look away.
Arjun didn't look up. He felt the sickening churn in his gut, the familiar mix of fear and helpless rage. He was ready to give up his lunch money, his notes, even his shoes, just to make this quick.
"Your sister was looking for you, Zero," Rohan continued, using the taunt that was his personal favourite. The "Zero" rank wasn't official, but everyone knew what it meant: bottom rung, worthless, powerless. "Told her she should find a better brother. Less pathetic, perhaps."
That was the trigger. Not the bullying, not the insults, but the mention of Priya. Arjun's head snapped up.
"Leave her out of this, Rohan," Arjun said, his voice a surprising tremor of steel. It was weak, but it was there.
Rohan actually laughed, a harsh, short burst. He moved fast, a sudden, heavy blur that belied his size. He grabbed Arjun by the collar, slamming his back against the cold, tiled lockers. The impact stole Arjun's breath.
"Oh, the Zero has a spine now? Let me check," Rohan pulled his arm back, his fist already tightening into a knot of bone and muscle.
Arjun saw the punch coming—not just the fist, but the entire intention behind it. It was a vicious, unrefined strike meant to humiliate, not just hurt. In that split second of terror, something strange happened.
His body moved on its own.
He wasn't fighting; he was mirroring. Arjun instinctively shifted his weight, a subtle, almost invisible movement that mirrored the micro-shift in Rohan's own stance before the strike. The punch, intended for his face, clipped his shoulder instead, the force surprisingly manageable.
Rohan frowned. He'd barely felt the contact. "Lucky hit, worm."
He came again, a flurry of three rapid, heavy blows. The famous 'Blitz.'One, two, three.
Arjun didn't think about Rana's training yet, because he hadn't met Rana. This was raw instinct. His mind was a frantic machine, copying the rhythm, feeling the energy of Rohan's aggressive movement. He weaved, swayed, and blocked with small, precise movements that exactly countered Rohan's attacks—not with force, but with perfect timing. He wasn't stronger, but for those three seconds, he was Rohan's shadow.
The Vipers went quiet. Other students were staring now. The Zero Ranker shouldn't be surviving the Blitz.
Rohan's face contorted from boredom to genuine rage. This was insulting. He stepped back, a dangerous glint in his eyes.
Enough.
He didn't know it, but he was about to use the Kinetic Amplification that made him untouchable to every other street fighter in the Academy. He wound up for a final punch, intending to end the show with a broken rib and a clear message. The very air around his fist felt tight, charged with an invisible, accelerated force.
Arjun's mind screamed. He felt the terrifying, high-pitched frequency of that concentrated energy—it was too much, too fast, too powerful to counter with just a copied stance.
He braced himself for the bone-shattering impact.
The punch landed, but the sound was wrong—a dull, choked thud instead of a crack. Arjun was propelled backward, tumbling hard across the floor. Pain screamed through his side, his vision blurring.
But he was still conscious.
Rohan looked at his hand, surprised. The punch had carried immense force, enough to instantly disable anyone. Yet, the Zero was breathing, trying to push himself up.
Arjun lay there, the floor cold against his cheek, tasting dust and blood. He stared at Rohan's retreating back as the bully, satisfied with the damage done, led his Vipers away, leaving the stunned silence and staring students behind.
I felt something strange, Arjun thought, ignoring the throbbing pain and focusing on the afterimage of the fight. When his last punch came, it was like a loud, buzzing noise in my head... and my body tried to absorb it.
He hadn't won. He was beaten, battered, and humiliated. But he hadn't been broken. And for the first time, he knew he had a secret no one else at Sinclair Academy possessed.
The world had secrets of its own, and one of them had just woken up inside him.
He was Zero, but the frequency was starting.