Rj's fists were on fire—metaphorically.
Another cracked jaw. Another teacher screaming his name. Another swarm of students parting like the Red Sea as he stormed down the hallway.
"RJ CARTER!"
He didn't stop. Didn't slow. The bell had already rung, but detention couldn't hold him—again.
This was fight number three this week.
The hallway smelled like cheap bleach and blood. His blood? Probably someone else's. Rj didn't care. His knuckles were raw, but his rage was sharper than pain.
That was the thing about rage: it made everything quiet.
Principal's Office
"You're expelled," said the principal, voice trembling behind a fortress of security guards. "This time—for good."
Rj didn't flinch. He'd heard it before.
"You don't get it," he muttered, staring at his bandaged fists. "I was helping that kid. They were jumping him. You think I like this?"
"No, Rj. I think you are this."
That stung more than he expected.
Outside. On the steps. Alone.
Sky bleeding orange. World spinning slow.
Where do you go when the last door closes?
"Quite the little firestorm, aren't you?"
The voice came from nowhere—and everywhere. Smooth. Ancient. Wrong.
Rj looked up.
There stood a man in gold and black, eyes glowing like twin stars. His head… was the head of a jackal.
"I'm not high enough for this," Rj muttered.
"You are exactly high enough," the jackal said with a grin. "Tell me, do you want a place where rage isn't a curse—but a weapon?"
The stranger reached out a hand.
Behind him, reality cracked open like glass. Through it, a massive academy floated among stars, built from obsidian, moonlight, and forgotten gods.
SOL CELESTIAL ACADEMY
"Only ten survive," said the jackal. "Think you're one of them?"
Rj stared at the stars—and then stepped forward.