It had been five days since the Maze Ruins incident. Five peaceful, uneventful days.
Too peaceful.
Abhay pushed open the boys' washroom door, only to be stopped by two guys leaning on the frame like nightclub bouncers.
"What's the code?" one asked, eyes squinting dramatically.
Abhay rolled his eyes. "In romance shows, the childhood best friend deserves to win."
They nodded solemnly and stepped aside. "Respect. Enter, brother."
He walked in like he belonged, because... well, he did.
Inside, the scene was straight out of a college hostel during exam week.
Three boys smoked like they were auditioning for a cancer awareness ad.
(Warning: Smoking is injurious to health.)
Two more were doing push-ups, counting dramatically.
A group was crowded around a ludo board like it was a high-stakes poker table.
Others were tucked behind pillars—bunking legends hiding from responsibilities.
In the center, Ujjwal, king of chaos, sat on a foldable chair mid-game.
"You here to bunk?" he asked, not looking up from his dice.
"No," Abhay said, walking past. "Just here to handle some... business."
As he turned to leave, a sharp announcement echoed through the speaker:
"All teachers report to the conference room in the girls' block. Leave your classes under monitor supervision."
Abhay froze. So did everyone else.
Ludo dice dropped. Cigarettes were extinguished mid-puff. Push-ups stopped at 49.
Silence.
Then chaos.
Because they all knew what was coming.
A second announcement crackled in—this time by the Music Club's ever-dramatic president:
"Attention all students. The rules are simple—"
"Rule 1: No one is allowed to leave the boys' block until the event is over."
"Rule 2: Any use of skills or elemental attacks is strictly forbidden."
"Rule 3: Fights are limited to the boys' conference room, the corridors (except entry/exit points), and the backstairs. Classrooms are neutral zones."
Abhay stared at the speaker in disbelief. "Oh no. Not again."
He turned to Ujjwal. "We need to move. Stick to the safe zones."
Ujjwal was already packing his ludo board. "I'm going to my class. We always fight together. Safety in chaos."
Abhay gave a half-salute. "Brave man."
And off he went alone.
The school corridors were too quiet now. The staircase to the basement looked like a scene from a horror movie.
As Abhay approached it, a voice stopped him.
"Lift is safer."
One of the Yoga Club seniors stepped out from the shadows like a mentor in a fantasy RPG.
"Stairs are too open. Too vulnerable. You never know where a declaration might come from."
Abhay followed him into the lift, and down they went into the basement.
There, a bizarre construction scene awaited him.
Yoga Club members hammered nails into planks. Judo Club guys carried wood like weightlifting champs.
"What… is happening?" Abhay asked.
A senior smirked. "This year, we'll be the rulers. We've joined forces."
The two clubrooms were now merged—floors connected, barriers removed. North-west basement territory? Officially claimed by the Yoga-Judo Alliance.
It was like watching two gyms fuse into a war bunker.
Five minutes passed.
Then it came.
A music club announcement, voice rushed and dramatic:
"Guys, something is about to happen. We have a call from 10th class…"
"I, Raghav Tripathi of Class 10-D, declare war on all Class 9th Sections!"
The moment of silence that followed was broken by shouts echoing from the second floor.
Class 10-C and 10-D had already launched an attack on Class 9-B, 9-C, and 9-D in the corridor. Fists, books, and rolled-up newspapers became weapons of choice.
And every second of the chaos?
It was being livestreamed in a WhatsApp group run by the Computer and Music Club.
Meanwhile, new students and juniors were panicking like they'd been dropped into a warzone.
"Why is this happening? What did we do?!"
A calm senior adjusted his glasses and said, "It all began 30 years ago…"
"Back then, fights happened daily. So a genius student proposed a single, epic war every year. Alliances would form. Territories would be claimed. And whoever ruled at the end would have supremacy over all boys' blocks—for the rest of the year."
Abhay nodded slowly. "And no more war until next year…"
The senior smiled. "Exactly."
Abhay looked at the chaotic live feed, then at the Yoga-Judo alliance drilling holes into the wall, and finally at the weapons being passed around in the form of broom handles and mop sticks.
He took a deep breath.
"This year," Abhay muttered, fire in his eyes, "we'll be the rulers."