Ok guys I know it's been too long, I think it been nearly 2 months, and I haven't forgotten about it, btw I will continue to release chapter once every week after December month and I am going to change the opening of this novel, cuz it's so rushed in my point of view and a lot will change, but don't worry when it happens I will inform you right away
CHAPTER 54: The Lockdown Protocol
Zack didn't answer right away. His fingers traced a thin scratch in the tabletop, knuckles whitening against the dark wood. When he finally looked up, the quiet confidence I'd come to expect from him had given way to something raw, something heavier than I'd seen before.
"It's not the arm wrestling, Jane." His voice was a low rumble, barely carrying over the hum of the surrounding classes. "It's Event Five. It's you, going into that room."
I held his gaze, feeling the ground shift beneath the moment. "Heather made the call. She thinks my situational awareness scores are what the alliance needs."
"I don't care what Heather thinks she needs." His jaw tightened. "That event is a psychological grinder. You'll be locked in with Victor, with Ashley's inner circle — people who treat manipulation like a sport. I'm supposed to hold the line out here, and I can't do a damn thing for you once those doors seal."
"You don't have to protect me every second, Zack." I leaned closer across the table, gentling my voice. "I'm not walking in there to get cornered. I'm walking in there to do a job for our class."
He studied me for a long moment, searching my face for a flicker of hesitation. He found none. Slowly, the tension bled out of his shoulders, replaced by something quieter — a reluctant, hard-won respect.
"Then don't let them crowd you." His hand covered mine, rough and warm. "Keep your head down. Read the room. Get out."
"Deal." I let myself smile, just faintly. "Now go win your bracket."
Before he could respond, the café doors swung open. Luke, Heather, and David Samuel filed back in, and behind them the countdown timers on the wall flickered from yellow to a harsh, pulsing red.
Sixty minutes, gone. The Opening Gauntlet was live.
VENUE 1 — THE CULTURAL PAVILION: EVENT ONE, MATH TRIVIA
While the sports arena roared with the opening track events, the Cultural Pavilion sat in near-total silence. Three high-speed buzzers gleamed under the stage lights, their surfaces glowing a cold, expectant blue.
Josher adjusted his glasses, fingers hovering millimeters above his buzzer. To his left, Markson from Class 2-A bounced on his heels, nerves written across his face. To his right, Adam Dorry — the freshman prodigy from Class 1-C — stood entirely unbothered, as if this were beneath him.
Across the divide, Class A's representatives sat rigid, unreadable.
"Welcome to Event One," the proctor's voice cut through the PA system. "Answers must be submitted within five seconds of buzzing in. Incorrect responses cost fifty Class Star Points, instantly. First question: derive the Fourier transform bounds for a second-order differential matrix."
BZZZ.
Josher buzzed before the proctor finished the sentence.
"$$\hat{f}(\xi) = \int_{-\infty}^{\infty} f(x), e^{-2\pi i x \xi}, dx$$, boundary conditions constrained at ξ equals zero." Not a single stutter.
The light above Class C's podium flared green.
"Correct! Class C takes an early lead!"
What followed was a masterclass in coordination. Josher, Markson, and Adam Dorry split the incoming barrage of calculus and abstract algebra with mechanical precision, trading questions like a single mind operating through three mouths. Twenty minutes later, a round built to break the unprepared had instead become a clean, steady stream of points for the alliance.
VENUE 2 — THE CULTURAL PAVILION: EVENT FOUR, ARM WRESTLING
Behind a wall of heavy acoustic curtains, the atmosphere shifted entirely. A single steel table sat bolted to the concrete floor, ringed by four referees and a crowd pressed shoulder to shoulder, voices low with anticipation.
The bracket ran on the Two-Life System — every competitor entered with two lives, lost one per pin, and was eliminated only after the second.
TOURNAMENT ROSTER
3rd Year: Marcus Hale (A) · Derek Sullivan (B) · Zack Finn (C) · Connor Blake (D) — 2 Lives each
2nd Year: Kelvin (A) · Richard Cole (B) · Ethan Brooks (C) · Nathan Cross (D) — 2 Lives each
1st Year: Leo Bennett (A) · Ryan Cole (B) · David Samuel (C) · Jason Miller (D) — 2 Lives each
Match 1 — Marcus Hale vs. David Samuel
David approached with his usual effortless calm, adjusting his cuffs before locking hands with Marcus. Marcus — a third-year built like a retaining wall — didn't return the ease.
"Ready. Go."
David went for a wrist-top roll, betting leverage against brute strength. Marcus's grip didn't budge. One burst of side-pressure, and David's hand hit the pad in under four seconds.
Result: Marcus wins. (Marcus 2 — David 1)
Match 8 — Marcus Hale vs. Kelvin: The Deadlock
Two undefeated records collided. Kelvin's forearm corded with visible effort as their hands locked.
"Ready. Go."
The table groaned. Neither arm moved a full inch off center. Sixty seconds of pure, static violence — muscle fiber straining against equal and opposite force — before the buzzer sounded.
"Time expired! Draw!"
Result: Draw. No lives lost.
Match 9 — Kelvin vs. Zack Finn: The Upset
The crowd expected Zack's aggression to run the table. It didn't. Kelvin absorbed the initial shoulder-drive, then pivoted into a wrist-hook that yanked Zack's leverage sideways. The technique fractured for half a second — long enough. Kelvin drove his knuckles into the pad.
The Class C section went dead silent.
Result: Kelvin wins. (Kelvin 2 — Zack 1)
Zack stepped back without a word, without a fist slammed on the table. He flexed his forearm slowly, eyes narrowed — cataloguing the exact angle where his grip had failed.
Matches 10–11 — Adaptation
Nathan Cross exploited Kelvin's fatigue in Match 10, pinning him clean. (Nathan 2 — Kelvin 1)
Zack faced Nathan next, carrying a single life. He'd watched Kelvin fall to the same over-committed force he himself had used minutes earlier — so he didn't repeat it. Instead of driving sideways, he rotated inward off the whistle, locking Nathan's wrist and forcing a clean pin.
Result: Zack wins. (Zack 1 — Nathan 1)
The Final — Marcus Hale vs. Zack Finn
Two lives against one. Marcus, fresh. Zack, running on fumes and adjustment.
"You're tired, Finn."
"I'm warmed up."
"Ready. Go."
Marcus unleashed the same side-pressure that had ended David Samuel in four seconds. Zack's arm bent — three inches from the pad, then two, then one. The Class A section rose to its feet, already celebrating.
In that final fraction of an inch, Zack remembered Kelvin. He stopped fighting the force head-on and shifted his weight back instead, breaking Marcus's wrist drive at its root. Then, with a guttural roar, he reversed the pressure entirely — driving Marcus's hand back past center and down into the winning pad.
SLAM.
"Winner — Zack Finn! Class C takes first!"
The pavilion erupted. Freshmen and seniors alike surged past the boundary lines. Zack stood over the table, chest heaving, his right hand trembling and red — but Class C had just claimed the maximum points Event Four had to offer.
VENUE 3 — THE HOLLOWGATE ESTATE: EVENT FIVE, FIND THE IMPOSTER
The cheers from the arm-wrestling arena faded into nothing as the transport van rolled to a stop at the edge of a sprawling private estate — an enormous, ivy-choked mansion set back from the school grounds behind iron gates that looked older than the tournament itself. Three stories of dark stone and shuttered windows loomed over a circular drive, gas lanterns flickering along the entrance despite the daylight.
"You're kidding," I muttered, stepping out of the van.
No one answered. The proctor waiting at the door didn't smile.
The heavy oak entrance sealed behind the eleventh representative with a deep, mechanical thud — bolts sliding home somewhere inside the frame. Whatever this house had been built for, it hadn't been built for comfort.
Inside, all eleven representatives from the competing class networks had been gathered in the mansion's grand foyer, beneath a chandelier that hadn't been dusted in what looked like years:
Victor — Class 3-A Leader
Ashley — Class 3-B Leader
Jane — Class 3-C Representative
Jenita — Class 3-D Representative
John Christopher — Class 2-A Representative
Maya Vance — Class 2-B Representative
Leo Reed — Class 2-C Representative
Devon Vance — Class 2-D Representative
David Samuel — Class 1-C Leader
Soren Cole — Class 1-A Representative
Chloe Zhang — Class 1-B Representative
Victor stood near the base of the staircase, hands in his pockets, as relaxed as if he owned the place. Ashley leaned against the wall by the parlor doors, arms folded, a thin, calculating smile playing at her mouth. Jenita drummed her nails against the banister. Beside John Christopher, David Samuel — fresh off his arm-wrestling loss — looked entirely unbothered by his new surroundings.
A wall-mounted panel beside the staircase flickered to life. No numbers. Just two words, glowing red: IN PROGRESS.
BZZZ.
Eleven phones lit up at once.
"Attention, participants," a synthetic voice echoed from speakers hidden somewhere in the rafters. "You have been sequestered inside Hollowgate Estate for the duration of this trial. Exactly three Saboteurs walk among you. Their objective is to eliminate innocent participants undetected, one at a time, throughout the house. The innocents must identify and remove all three Saboteurs before their own numbers are cut in half — or the class network loses its full allocation of Star Points."
Eliminated wasn't a metaphor here, apparently. My stomach tightened.
"Rounds will alternate between free exploration and assembly," the voice continued. "During exploration, Saboteurs may act. During assembly, all surviving participants gather in the main hall to discuss and vote. A body discovered ends exploration immediately and triggers emergency assembly. Survive, or be removed."
I lifted my phone. My thumb met the scanner, and the screen lit with an encrypted message under a heavy red banner:
[ALL-STAR COMMITTEE — ADMINISTRATIVE NOTICE]
Participant: Jane (Class 3-C)
Assigned Role: SABOTEUR (IMPOSTER)
Objectives:
Maintain cover during assembly. Blend into innocent discussion.
Eliminate assigned targets during exploration phases without being witnessed.
Coordinate subtly with fellow Saboteurs — no direct contact during assembly.
Survive until Saboteurs equal or outnumber remaining innocents.
Co-Saboteurs: Ashley (Class 3-B), Leo Reed (Class 2-C)
Elimination Method: Simulated — tag target's wristband within a private zone to register a "kill." No physical harm permitted. Violation results in immediate disqualification.
The last line loosened the knot in my chest — simulated, wristbands, no physical harm — but only slightly. Whatever safeguards existed on paper, the room didn't feel safe. It felt like the walls had been built to make people disappear convincingly.
I forced my face into neutral stillness, locked the phone, and slid it into my pocket. Across the foyer, Ashley's eyes found mine for the barest instant — no smile, no flicker of recognition, just a slow hand through her hair, deliberate as a signature. Leo Reed didn't even glance my way; he leaned against a support column, thumb idly tracing the edge of his phone case.
Three Imposters. Ashley. Leo Reed. Me. Eight targets. One enormous house full of hallways, locked rooms, and no cameras that anyone had mentioned.
Victor's gaze swept the foyer, slow and deliberate, before settling on me.
"Well," he said, voice low, cutting clean through the quiet. "Let's see how it goes."