On the far side of Hazandeen International High School—where the School Festival spirit echoed through the air—David Virellano stepped into one of the vacant classrooms, his gaze scanning with a mix of curiosity and disdain.
The school interior was modern. Futuristic minimalist design, automated lighting, and smart-glass windows.
David's eyes wandered for a moment, before a faint smirk crept across his lips.
"This place... is far too comfortable for a charity case like that."
Soon, a group of students entered and bowed respectfully.
"Welcome, Young Master David."
Among them, one student didn't bow.
Instead, he slung an arm casually around David's shoulder.
"Still arrogant as ever, huh?"
The voice belonged to Rudi Norvalien—heir of the Norvalien family, one of the wealthiest in Eastern Indorosia. Still below the Virellanos in power, but wealthy enough to have seats at the table.
David chuckled and gave his longtime friend a pat on the back.
"If I weren't, you might start thinking we're equals."
They both laughed—short, sharp—until their eyes locked and a moment of silence fell.
---
Flashback – 2.5 Years Ago
At the time, Hazandeen International High School was crumbling—a fallen star.
Scandal after scandal plagued its name: embezzlement, wild nepotism, poor management... its reputation was a shadow of what it once was.
This school, which was managed by the Tamarvich family had almost dragged the entire Tamarvich bloodline into total ruin—
the scandal was simply too massive to cover up, even with an ocean of money.
Meanwhile, Makazhar Elite School (MES) was on the rise. Fully funded by the Virellano family, its facilities oozed wealth and influence. The children of powerful lineages—including David and Rudi—attended proudly.
"Hazandeen's just waiting to be padlocked," Rudi once scoffed.
But just when everyone thought HIHS was doomed, Alasia Group stepped in.
With one sweeping acquisition, the school was not only saved—it was rebuilt. A new system. Professional management. A river of funding.
As part of the partnership, Idham Tamarvich—heir to the Tamarvich family—was assigned to oversee the school. A move that had once been mocked.
"Poor Idham, stuck at a dying school," Rudi had said, laughing.
But Idham stayed. And led. Alongside a new generation of students…
And one unknown boy from an unexpected background: a scholarship student no one paid attention to.
His name? Al.
One year passed. Hazandeen rose from the ashes.
Eventually… it surpassed Makazhar as the top school in Eastern Indorosia.
Rudi was stunned.
"This is unacceptable," he muttered.
Wanting only the best, he transferred to Hazandeen—despite getting a cold reception from Idham.
But David?
He could only clench his teeth.
"My family funds Makazhar Elite School. I have to stay…"
From that day on, discomfort took root in his heart. But it wasn't until he found out that a so-called orphan could attend HIHS.
Rudi, who had always looked down on the lower class, immediately despised Al from the very first day he transferred to HIHS.
He already knew that this elite school wasn't exclusively filled with children of the upper crust; a handful of middle-to-lower-class students were accepted too—some even from orphanages, lucky enough to earn scholarships.
"In a school this elite, there's a country fly buzzing around freely."
With his smooth maneuvering inside the school—and ruthless methods outside it—Rudi and his group had driven almost all of those scholarship students to quit.
The public, of course, never knew what really happened.
In fact, the public barely even realized that non-elite students had once been part of HIHS at all.
But one person still remained.
A person who, for the past one and a half years, Rudi couldn't lay a single finger on—neither inside the school nor outside it.
That person was Al.
---
Back to the Present
Inside an air-conditioned room—quiet, secluded, far away from the outside commotion—David Virellano leaned back casually in a Hazandeen School chair.
The chair itself was luxurious, yet it still looked far too modest for someone of noble blood like him.
Opposite him, Rudi leaned against the desk, watching David with curious eyes.
"So, what does the Young Master of Virellano want at the number-one school in the region?" Rudi asked, twirling a pencil mockingly.
David offered a sly smile. His eyes were sharp, though his voice remained casual.
"Tch… I need information. On someone."
"Who?"
David tilted his head slightly and said the name without emotion:
"A student named Al."
Rudi narrowed his eyes.
"Al? You mean… the scholarship kid?"
David didn't answer immediately. He glanced at Rudi, then looked away again.
"Is there another Al in this school?"
Rudi shrugged.
"Well… I don't know many people here. But I'd say there's only one fly named Al."
He pulled out his phone and showed David a distant photo—grainy and likely taken without permission. A typical bully's collection.
David examined it and gave a slow nod.
"That's him."
"What's your business with this kid?" Rudi asked, curious.
David simply smiled, letting the silence swallow the question.
"Tell me about him."
Rudi exhaled and began.
"His name's Al. Entered through a special orphan scholarship. He's a nobody here. Not in any clubs, average grades, barely known."
David listened as his smile slowly twisted into a satisfied grin.
"So just a lucky orphan… huh."
He let out a small laugh. "How fortunate."
Then he stood, stretched, and walked toward the door.
"Oi. You're leaving already? Why does it feel like we're just your intel lackeys or something?!" Rudi grumbled with a hint of protest.
But David didn't respond. He simply waved his hand lightly—
a gesture that said "stop whining."
Before leaving, he looked back.
"Do you hate him, Rudi?"
Rudi chuckled darkly.
"Hate? That fly pollutes the air around me. If I could, I'd rip off his wings one by one and crush him while he's still breathing."
David gave a thin smile.
No further words were needed.
The game had begun.
He stepped out of the classroom, walking with confidence, a smug grin on his face as he glanced toward the buzzing field outside.
"Let's see what your game looks like… Al."
---
Hazandeen Gymnasium – Pre-Match Prep
The massive gym—usually used for basketball—had been transformed into a preparation ground. A huge banner hung over the main stage:
FRIENDSHIP FESTIVAL: Hazandeen International High School vs Makazhar Elite School
Al stood among Hazandeen's martial arts participants, alongside Rina and Jogo.
Their uniforms bore the HIHS logo proudly across their chests.
Rina leaned in close, her voice hushed with concern.
"Al… are you sure you're okay with this? You can always forfeit later. This isn't life or death."
Al only glanced sideways, expressionless. The irritation of having to sacrifice his nap time just to play a punching game with weak brats still burned within him.
Jogo, standing beside them, scoffed loud enough for everyone to hear.
"Forfeit? This isn't about life or death. It's about our school's pride. We're the best. If you can't even stand for your school, you don't deserve to wear that uniform."
Rina stayed silent. She couldn't argue with the logic—though her heart was uneasy.
Al yawned softly.
"You're the one who forced me to join. At least don't blame me for whatever happens…" Al muttered, implying—don't make a fuss if someone gets hurt because of him.
But Jogo merely snorted with a mocking grin, turned around, and didn't bother replying.
He simply assumed Al was scared.
Soon, the Makazhar Elite School team entered the gym, escorted by a supervising teacher.
Their uniforms were equally elegant—more formal and classic, a sharp contrast to Hazandeen's futuristic aesthetic.
The teachers greeted each other, but the air was stiff. Their smiles were polite… but cold.
More duelists than colleagues.
A massive digital board displayed the match-ups.
Students leaned in.
David Virellano appeared on the basketball roster. The crowd buzzed.
Some HIHS students sighed in relief.
Even Jogo looked slightly relieved.
"Thank god he's not on the martial arts team…"
Rina, too, felt a weight lift—not because she feared David, but because she feared what would happen if David and Al crossed paths.
Good. David isn't joining the fight. If he meets Al, he might just end up embarrassing Al even more, she thought.
Yes, David was strong. But Rina believed she was stronger.
Even Vianna—David's own sister—had been Rina's rival for years.
Still, she couldn't help but worry how Al would survive the drama.
Al himself did not pay much attention to the matter.
However, hearing Jogo's complaints did strike him with a touch of irony, especially considering they had only just been boasting proudly about the honor of their school.
What was there to fear about David? Both he and David were in the mid stage of the Adept Level. Also Same Martial Artist Class. Although that boy… Al paused briefly in the middle of his inner muttering.
His gaze drifting toward David, who sat there so casually, basking in the spotlight as the center of everyone's attention.
…possesses something even my own eyes can barely perceive. The thought continued, unsettling him somewhat.
The reality that there existed something capable of obstructing even his Dimensional Eye made him uneasy.
Or perhaps, it was not that David had some mysterious concealment, but rather that Al himself was still not skilled enough to fully optimize the Dimensional Eye the way its original owner had done in ages past.
When the official list of martial arts representatives from MES finally appeared, Rina's eyes widened in shock.
"Yolanda…?"
This was no ordinary name. She was one of the elite students of the White Lion Dojo, a place personally overseen and trained by David's older sister.
Yolanda was not just a promising disciple; she was a gifted fighter renowned for her overwhelming technique and her brutal physical strength.
A young combatant of remarkable talent who had already secured a position in Rank C—and was widely believed to be on the very brink of advancing into Rank B.
Why her? Please don't let Al run into that girl… I have to stop this, she thought anxiously.
Though Rina believed she could beat Yolanda herself… If Al faced her?
Her fists clenched.
Jogo saw the name too.
"Yolanda…"
His expression changed—almost amused.
Yolanda was his cousin. They were close.
But more importantly… he knew exactly how cruel she could be in the ring.
Inside, Jogo thought:
If she faces Al… good. Let her tear him apart.
Once the names were fully announced, the students dispersed—each heading to their respective locker rooms to prepare.
And with that—the competition was ready to begin.
---