[Ding! New Quest: Prove Him Wrong!]
"What the hell?!"
John's exclamation exploded into the sudden silence of the hall. It wasn't just a shout to object; it was a reaction to the golden prompt appearing in the middle of a high-tension standoff. The sound echoed off, causing the nearby students, his own classmates, and even the distant groups to freeze and turn toward him.
"What did you just say to me, loser?!"
Alfred—the mountain of a student—recoiled as if he had been slapped. He clearly took John's confused outburst as a direct challenge to his authority and his pride. Alfred took himself very seriously, and in his world, a "zero" didn't get to speak, let alone shout back in his face.
Ignoring the proximity of the scarred examiner and the other teachers stalking the perimeter, Alfred stomped forward. He loomed over John, a massive, thick finger jabbing fiercely into John's chest.
"If you think you've got what it takes to open that pathetic mouth of yours, then come and prove it. Fight me! Right here, right now, and let's see who's really the trash!"
John remained silent, but it wasn't fear that held his tongue. It was the cascading waterfall of digital notifications flickering across his retinas, drowning out the physical world.
[Ding! Quest: Prove Him Wrong — Your first step into a larger world!]
[Objective: Engage the arrogant Alfred in combat. Subdue him to establish dominance.]
[Duration: 30:00 Minutes]
[Rewards: Mental Point Cap +5 | +1 All Attributes | Unlock: Object Lockdown Ability (Active) | System Synchronization +1%]
[Failure: -50% Attributes (Permanent) | Mental Power Cap reduced by 50% (Permanent) | Deletion: Frame Recognition Ability (Permanent) ]
John's heart skipped a beat. The failure penalties were catastrophic. This wasn't just a quest; it was a survival check. If he lost, the system would effectively cripple him before he even learned how to walk in this new world.
"What? Silent now? Did the cat get your tongue, or did you realise you're just a coward?" Alfred pushed John again, the physical jolt snapping the hacker out of his digital reverie.
"Alfred, you're breaking academy rules!" the examiner intervened, though his voice lacked its usual bite. He was watching John closely, his fierce eyes searching for a spark of defiance.
He had hoped John would show some spirit to overcome his disastrous score, even if it meant a quick defeat. In this military-centric department, a courageous loser was respected more than a silent victim.
"Let's do it," John said, his voice cold and remarkably steady. Before the teacher could finish his warning, John stepped past him, walking toward the centre of the hall into a clear, open space. "Let's fight. Right now."
"Don't come crying to teachers later," Alfred sneered, his face contorting into an evil, predatory grin. "Since your mama isn't around to protect her little loser anymore!"
John ignored the taunt, his mind already spinning at overclocked speeds. He hadn't tested his new abilities yet, but the system was practically forcing his hand. If the penalty for failure was losing his only active battle ability, then he would damn well use it to win.
"I will state the rules," the examiner announced, giving John a nod of respect. He stepped between the two, his presence like a cooling rod in a reactor. "This is a friendly spar. No lethal strikes. No weapons. If I give the order to cease, you stop immediately. Understood?"
Both boys nodded. The atmosphere in the hall shifted instantly. The other students, sensing a spectacle, surged forward to form a wide circle around the combatants. Whispers rippled through the crowd; most of them were already placing bets on how many seconds the "zero-score kid" would last against a powerhouse like Alfred.
"Start!"
The examiner's hand dropped. Alfred didn't hesitate. He lunged forward, his heavy boots thudding against the floor, his right fist cocked back and aimed directly for John's jaw. It was a haymaker meant to end the fight in a single, humiliating blow.
'Let's see what this is all about... Frame Recognition, Activate!'
The moment the command left his mind, the world didn't just change—it shattered and rebuilt itself.
John felt a sharp tug on his eyes and head as the ability surged to life. The "realistic" textures of the academy—the stone, the metal, the skin—dissolved into a sea of flickering green code.
The floor beneath him was no longer polished stone; it was a complex lattice of glowing lines, symbols, and scrolling hexadecimals. The ceiling and the walls followed suit, transforming the hall into a vast, three-dimensional wireframe.
And then there was Alfred.
The bully was no longer a boy; he was a dynamic pile of data arranged in a shifting, humanoid grid. Every muscle twitch was a spike in a data stream. As Alfred swung his fist, John saw something remarkable.
A bright, pulsing sphere—the size of a fist—appeared in the air ahead of Alfred's movement. A flickering, translucent line extended from Alfred's knuckles, piercing through the sphere and pointing exactly at the centre of John's forehead.
'It highlights the attack trajectory... It's showing me the exact hit-box before it even arrives!'
John's hacker brain processed the information in milliseconds.
As Alfred's fist whistled through the air, John didn't panic. He waited until the last possible moment, then simply tilted his head and stepped half an inch to the left. The punch grazed past his ear, the wind of the strike ruffling his hair.
Alfred's momentum carried him forward, his eyes widening in shock as he hit nothing but empty air. John stood perfectly balanced, the green code of the world humming in front of his eyes, watching the bully's data-stream stumble.
"You missed," John whispered.
"Acting smart, huh? This won't save you!"
Alfred growled, his face reddening as he misinterpreted John's effortless dodge as a fluke—a desperate stroke of luck. He didn't pause to reconsider his strategy; instead, he followed his failed punch with a brutal, rising knee strike aimed at John's midsection.
In John's digitised vision, the world remained a shifting sea of green syntax. As Alfred's leg moved, the knee area pulsed with a blinding light. A flickering trajectory line materialised instantly, connecting the glowing point of Alfred's knee directly to John's belly.
With a fluid, rhythmic motion, John rotated his hips, allowing the knee to whistle past his ribs. Using the momentum of his dodge, he pivoted sharply, positioning himself like a ghost behind Alfred's exposed flank.
"It's my turn," John said, his voice dropping to an icy whisper.
He drove a strike into Alfred's side. The impact was startlingly solid. It wasn't just the strength of a seventeen-year-old; it was as if a force of nature. The blow sent Alfred stumbling several steps away, the large boy clutching his side and groaning in genuine agony.
The hall fell into a stunned, suffocating silence. This was a turn of events that defied every expectation. The gathered students turned their heads toward the examiner, their eyes wide with a singular question: Is this the power of someone who scored a zero?
The examiner himself was stupefied. He stood dazed, his mouth slightly agape as he watched the sequence of events. He had expected a slaughter, but not this reversal.
He watched as Alfred launched a desperate flurry of strikes—consecutive punches and kicks that would have levelled any other freshman—only for John to smoothly glide through the gaps in the assault. John wasn't just fighting; he was dancing through Alfred's fury.
These aren't the moves of a freshman, the teacher thought, his eyes narrowing as he analysed John's posture. These aren't the moves of a low-ranking student, let alone a zero-scorer. If anything, the veteran examiner sniffed the distinct scent of long, brutal fighting experience in John's movements and never-failing strikes.
John never missed a counter-hit. His precision was uncanny, and his strength was more than enough to dominate the larger boy. To the observers, it looked like John had years of hidden training, an elite martial background disguised by a bored expression.
John, however, was oblivious to the shockwave he was sending through the academy's hierarchy. He was totally immersed in the bizarre, glowing beauty of the Frame Recognition ability.
At the start of the bout, he had been tense—his movements rigid as he struggled to trust the green lines and alien world. But after a few successful evasions and counter-strikes, he realised he had been gifted something akin to godhood in the world.
On the other side of the circle, Alfred's aloof, arrogant air had vanished, replaced by a cold, paralysing emotion: fear. He had been trained for years in close-quarters combat by expensive tutors, yet no matter what feint he tried or what speed he exerted, John was already there, waiting. It was as if John was reading his very thoughts.
Alfred had experienced this feeling before: when sparring with high-ranking masters. A terrifying thought flashed through his mind, unbidden: Don't tell me he is on par with those monsters?
In combat, losing your confidence is the precursor to losing your fight. Alfred's offence crumbled. He transformed into a human sandbag, his only focus shifting to a desperate, frantic defence. He retreated backward, his arms held high to shield his face, failing to land a single hit for several minutes.
But even with Alfred focused entirely on survival, John's vision showed him the "bugs" in the defence. The Frame Recognition highlighted every gap in Alfred's guard, every momentary lapse in balance.
John exploited them all, landing a rhythmic succession of hits across Alfred's body. In less than ten minutes—before the ability could even reach its duration limit—Alfred was the one who wore out.
Thud!
Alfred's massive frame slammed heavily onto the polished floor. His eyes rolled back, losing their focus, and a thin trickle of blood oozed from the corner of his mouth.
The fight had been brutally one-sided, a total shock to everyone present. The teachers standing nearby were so paralysed by the impossibility of the scene that they hadn't even moved to intervene until it was already over.
"It's... it's John Mirage's win," the examiner finally managed to announce. He stepped forward, giving John a long, searching look that was heavy with unspoken questions. If you have this kind of strength, why the hell did you score a zero on the test? Were you trying to play with my heart, kid?
John felt the weight of the collective gaze. He felt the pressure from the teachers, the newfound fear and respect from the students, and the simmering curiosity of the elite. He met it all with an uncaring shrug and a look of pure indifference. He turned his back on the unconscious Alfred, his interest in the bully already evaporated.
As the medical team rushed into the circle to carry Alfred away on a hovering stretcher, John's vision flickered once, the green code dissolving as the world returned to its "normal" state. A series of golden notifications bloomed across his sight.
[Ding! Congrats! You have completed the mission: Prove Him Wrong!]
[Rewards Processed: * Mental Power Cap increased by 5 points. * +1 to all Attributes. * Ability Unlocked: Object Lockdown (Active - Basic). * System Synchronisation increased by 1%!]