A predatory grin stretched across my lips as I stared at the results board.
Class D ➡ Class A.
Class C ➡ Class D.
My fist clenched, knuckles whitening under the strain. A low, almost feral vibration surged within me.
Not fear. Rage.
Class D? Those rejects, those system scraps, those chronic failures… in Class A? And us… demoted to the bottom?
The insult was so colossal it was almost laughable. A harsh, guttural laugh—more growl than chuckle—escaped my throat.
"Kukuku…" The sound echoed in the empty hall, sinister. "Well played. Very well played."
This school strutted around with its "elite" label. Spoiled brats, daddy's kids, grade-obsessed nerds… and weaklings. All weaklings. Did they think life was a politeness contest or a math quiz?
Pathetic.
The only law that ruled the real world was the law of the strongest. The predator devouring its prey. The law I embodied. Here, as everywhere else.
I didn't give a damn about their twisted rules, their points, their hypocritical rankings. A game? Perfect. I'd burn it to ashes, piece by piece, until only I stood atop the ruins of their delusions.
My class? Tools. Useful or disposable.
Cattle. Fuel for my ambition.
I'd imposed my rule through fear and force. Period. They obeyed, or they suffered. The school's system, with its promises of promotion, was just another lure to keep them in line. But real power—the kind that bent spines and broke wills—was mine. The fist. The threat. Pure domination.
And yet… this result. This grotesque reversal. My rage twisted into a perverse curiosity.
Who? Who among those D vermin had the guts—or the cunning—to flip the board?
One name kept surfacing, whispered with unusual fear by my "lackeys": Koenji Rokusuke. A dandy who fancied himself a genius.
Him? The poster child for weak idealists, blind privilege.
The idea that *he* was behind this was… insulting. But the school didn't lie on that board. Not outright.
"Ishizaki! Albert!" My voice cracked like a whip, making them flinch. "We're paying a little visit to our new king. Just to… show our respects."
The walk to the cafeteria was a procession. Eyes averted, conversations died as we passed. Fear. A familiar, comforting scent. It revealed the true order, far beyond the A, B, C, or D labels slapped on a door. We were the tangible threat. The school could play with its points; we played with nerves.
The cafeteria was quiet. And there, at a table.
The man himself. Surrounded by his little court. A bunch of misfits.
My gaze locked onto Koenji.
Tall, well-built, flawless blond hair, an air of natural superiority that made me want to knock his teeth out. He ate his salad with affected slowness.
We loomed over their table.
Silence. For a moment, I savored their tension.
Koenji didn't even look up. He chewed, unfazed. As if we were nothing.
"Nice weather, huh?" I tossed out, my tone mockingly light. My eyes, though, weren't laughing. They scanned Koenji, hunting for a crack, a hint of fear. Nothing. "What's for lunch?"
One of them took the bait, stiff as a board: "You're interrupting our conversation. If you've got nothing important to say, please leave."
Predictable. A guard dog barks.
"Easy now," I shot back with a toothy grin. "You'd think we meant harm."
Then another of their group arrived with their food.
He set the plates down like we were invisible.
'Nice move,' I thought, almost impressed despite myself. A passive challenge.
And Koenji… Koenji dug into his meal. No glance. No word. As if me and his crew were just background noise.
'The nerve of this guy!'
A wave of searing anger crashed over me. Ishizaki clenched his fists, ready to blow. I gave him a tiny hand signal.
Not here. Not now. The school had cameras, dumb rules. Raw violence would be… ineffective. Counterproductive. I wanted to destroy him, not just hit him.
Their collective dismissal was a punch to the gut. But I kept my smile. A shark's smile. "Since we're here, let's grab some food too, boys." I pulled up a chair, sitting uninvited at their table, invading their space. Ishizaki and Albert followed, forming a physical barrier.
I grabbed a menu, a loud gesture of ownership. "You're the celebrities of our year." The statement landed like a guillotine.
Koenji… kept eating. Calmly.
'You're gonna look at me, bastard.'
"No surprise, really," I went on, my tone sharpening. "You shot from the lowest class to the top in just a month. Kuku." My laugh was dry, joyless. "I won't even deny it. I'm here to see your skills for myself."
My eyes never left Koenji. He'd finished his salad. Now he sipped his fruity drink, still detached.
"Because of you, we dropped to D." The words erupted, laced with all my resentment. "Wouldn't it be only fair if we took your spot, like you took ours?"
Finally, his eyes met mine. Clear, almost lazy, but with a glint… a glint of superior amusement that sent me into a rage. He flashed a cheerful smile, a perfect mask.
"What's your name, my boy?" he asked.
'My boy?!'
Fury nearly made me explode. I locked it down, keeping my own feral grin.
"Right, we haven't introduced ourselves," I said, my tone charming but venom poised to strike. "I'm Ryuen Kakeru, and these two guys with me are my lackeys. Their names don't matter."
He nodded, still with that cryptic smile. "Very well, Ryuen-san. Want to know how I got my 'sheep,' as you called them, to fall in line?" He paused, chuckling softly. A sound that scraped my nerves like sandpaper. "Don't you find it funny, Ryuen-san? The mere fact that you see people as sheep or lackeys is why your class fell to D."
I bored my gaze into his. "Oh? Should I take it you don't see it that way?"
He held my stare without flinching. "Indeed. What you call sheep or lackeys, I call treasures and raw diamonds. How'd I do it? I just brought out their value. That's all."
'Treasures? Raw diamonds?'
The words echoed in my head. Then came the flood. A wild, uncontrollable laugh burst from deep in my gut. "Kukuku… HAHAHAHA! Treasures, huh? Kukuku!" I leaned forward, tears in my eyes—not from joy, but from absolute, crushing scorn.
All the tension, the rage, the anticipation… dissolved in that hysterical cackle. That was it?
That was the big secret? He wasn't a rival. He was a joke. A monumental farce.
I straightened, wiping a fake tear. "What a shame," I said, my tone suddenly dripping with mocking pity. "Here I thought I'd finally found someone worth emulating. But you're just another idealistic leader, like that naive chick in C. Such a pity."
I shook my head, a cruel, sad smile on my lips. The perverse thrill of the hunt surged back. An idealist in Class A? Perfect prey. His talk of others' "value" was his Achilles' heel. His fatal flaw.
I stood, Ishizaki and Albert moving like shadows. "Anyway, glad we talked, Kōenji." His name was spat like an insult. My eyes narrowed into predatory slits. "Remember, it's all a game to me. The higher your position, the harder your fall." I let the threat hang, heavy, real. "I hope you'll let me have the pleasure of tearing you down myself. It'd be a waste to devour you now, so survive…" My gaze swept their little group with icy contempt. "…until the smaller fish get crushed."
We turned on our heels, leaving behind a tense silence and the image of Koenji, still seated, his enigmatic smile now seen as the ultimate mask of weakness.
My inner laughter roared.
Treasures? Diamonds? What pathetic nonsense. People were tools. Or obstacles. And obstacles get broken.
The promise burned brighter than ever. Koenji Rokusuke. Your idealistic ivory tower? I'll grind it to dust. Slowly. Methodically. And when you're on your knees, you'll finally grasp the only truth that matters: strength is the only real power.
And I am strength incarnate. Your Class A? Soon it'll be a bad memory, a crushed stepping stone on my path to the top.
The game just got… personal. And I've never loved playing more.
END OF VOL 1 - NEXT CHAPTER ON 16 JULY
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