Physical Education in Valecrest wasn’t your average jog-around-the-field ordeal. It lived up to the full weight of physical education, where abilities were banned. It involved raw muscle, stamina, and whatever grit a student had left after lunch to survive it. This was also where Silas became something of a campus campfire story, whispered about with the same caution people used when approaching a wolf that pretended to be napping.

Imagine a lion that had always hunted antelopes with ease, suddenly stripped of all its natural weapons... Now place it across from an antelope that had already given it a decent scare earlier.

How would the lion feel?

Silas was the antelope surrounded by lions. He had no ability, while the others had abilities, but Silas was still ranked among the strongest in the academy. The answer was simple but not so simple... His hair wasn’t the only thing that changed after his experience with the rift. When it came to physical abilities, he was one of the best in that area, and that was thanks to the rift. And that was why he was dreaded when it came to matters relating to physical strength and especially P.E.

The person involved in all this, though, had absolutely no time to care about the confused whispers or the pitying looks of his classmates. All he could do was to focus on the ground and grind through his assigned workout: fifty push-ups with clean form. The person responsible for his delightful suffering was none other than the P.E master, Mr. Ryan Fatars.

Anyone who heard his name would automatically picture a curvy man with a fat ass. The name itself sounded more like a nickname than an actual name. Ryan Fatars was neither curvy nor with a fat ass. He was a stiff-jawed, broad-shouldered bully of a teacher, determined to break Silas in every way possible in the realm of possibilities he was aware of. He started this crusade back in 10th Grade, and every year since, he’d increased the intensity of his sessions.

Ryan always said it was "discipline." Silas knew it was hate. It was a pointless, sour, personal hate aimed at him for reasons that remained as mysterious as the socks disappearing from dormitory laundry rooms. The teacher thought that pushing Silas past his limits would make him quit... or at least crack. What he didn’t take into consideration was that his ridiculous agenda would backfire beautifully.

Those intense drills, long sprints, and the push-ups he forced him to do to the extent that his arms trembled... every bit of it had turned him almost into a superhuman. He had become a physical force built out of petty spite. And coupled with his already strong physique, Silas wouldn’t be far from the strongest student when it came to physical form.

Silas wasn’t grateful, but he acknowledged the irony with a quiet, private satisfaction. Mr. Fatars couldn’t lay a hand on him until he turned twenty, so this was his workaround, his stupid attempt to beat the system, only for it to benefit Silas in the end.

Today, though, Silas did look to be struggling, and Ryan was literally glowing from seeing that. His grin stretched so wide it might’ve needed its own zip code. He stood with his arms folded and his chin lifted as though he was about to receive a gold medal for Most Petty Educator of the Year. His ego was so inflated that he didn’t notice the actual problem... Not as if he would care.

Silas’s breath hitched, sweat tracing a path down his temple. But it wasn’t caused by the workout. Fifty push-ups were a walk in the park for him. His body was reacting in a way he definitely didn’t want during push-ups in the middle of P.E., and every attempt to steady himself only made his pulse race faster.

He clenched his jaw and focused on the rhythm; down, up, down, up, silently begging his body to calm itself before anyone noticed that his little guy was threatening to tear through his sweatpants.

Mr. Fatars, after basking in the glow of his accidental victory, stepped closer to Silas, his boots crunching against the field grass.

"Well, well," Ryan drawled, hands behind him like some smug drill sergeant. "Looks like the great Silas is finally learning his limits.

"I’m... fine," Silas muttered through clenched teeth without lifting his head.

"We’ll see about that. Everyone has a breaking point, "Ryan smirked, circling him like a shark testing a cage. Silas dug his fingers into the dirt and forcefully ignored the teacher.

Just then, a voice cut across the field.

"Mr. Fatars," called Ms. Garnet, the Vice-Principal, as she strode toward them with a tablet tucked under her arm. "A word."

Ryan’s jaw twitched as he cast one last look at Silas, trying to memorize the moment like a trophy, and strode off with the reluctant obedience of a dog being called inside.

Silas exhaled shakily, his shoulders dropping as the pressure finally eased. He let his forehead touch the ground while he whispered to himself.

"Thank you... whatever cosmic force decided to save me."

***

The day had wrung Silas dry, leaving him somewhere between exhausted and existentially offended: Hell would’ve sent him a sympathy card. He kept his pace brisk as he cut across the courtyard toward the dorms, clutching his backpack against his front like a shield. Anyone watching might’ve thought he was guarding state secrets... Which was almost through in this context.

His mind was so consumed with willing his anatomy to behave that he drifted through campus on autopilot. The sun was just lowering, and the courtyard was buzzing with students changing classes. Silas, on the other hand, moved among them like a ghost with one mission: get to his room.

But fate, that chaotic playwright, had other plans. He snapped back to awareness when something crashed into him. He stumbled, steadying himself just in time to look down and see a girl sprawled at his feet. Behind her stood a boy Silas recognized instantly, a boy he hated as naturally as breathing.

Damien Crowhurst.

The academy’s golden tyrant, the smirking prince of arrogance, and the one person who could turn Silas’ mood from bad to catastrophic simply by existing within a five-meter radius.

From the way Damien’s eyebrow arched, it was clear he’d either shoved her lightly toward Silas or taken advantage of Silas’ distracted state to orchestrate this collision. Whichever it was, the damage was done.

A hush fell as students in the courtyard stared at the scene. They all knew what this meant.