The afternoon passed in a haze of anticipation. At 2:45, the entire school began to file into the gymnasium. The air was thick with the smell of floor wax and teenage apathy.
I found a seat in the middle of the bleachers, a perfect vantage point. I was just another face in the crowd, invisible in plain sight.
At 3:10, the rally began. Principal Thompson took the stage, his smile painfully wide. He launched into a grandiloquent speech about spirit and heroism.
I watched the clock on my datapad.
At 3:15 precisely, a wave of foul odour washed over the gymnasium.
It started from the west entrance and spread rapidly, a sulphurous cloud of pure rotten eggs.
Students began to cough and groan, pinching their noses. Teachers looked around in confusion and disgust. Phase one was a success.
At 3:20, as Principal Thompson, trying to ignore the smell, declared that the Comets had a "soaring spirit that cannot be matched," a small drone buzzed erratically near the ceiling.
It slammed into the rigging of a massive banner, which promptly detached from one side and flopped down, covering half of the school orchestra.
The sound of a muffled, surprised tuba echoed through the gym. Chaos erupted in that section as students and teachers scrambled to untangle themselves.
Phase two was complete.
The principal's face was now a blotchy red. He was losing control. He decided to rush to the grand finale.
"And now," he shouted over the din, "a very special tribute to our patron and hero, the man himself… Captain Comet!"
He gestured to the massive screen behind him. This was Mark's moment.
The screen flickered to life. But it wasn't a soaring tribute. It was a grainy, archival news clip.
The hero Sol Invictus was giving a speech, but the audio was from a different event entirely—a hot mic incident where he was caught complaining about the low quality of the caviar at a gala.
The video then cut to Lady Lux tripping on her own cape during a red-carpet event, followed by Stronghold accidentally breaking a priceless statue he was supposed to be unveiling.
It was a masterfully edited montage of hero fallibility and vanity.
A few confused titters started in the crowd. Then a snort. Then a full-blown laugh. Within seconds, the entire student body was roaring with laughter.
The carefully constructed reverence of the event had shattered into a thousand pieces, replaced by open mockery. Teachers ran around frantically, but they couldn't stop the avalanche.
I sat perfectly still, a small, secret smile on my face, watching the beautiful, perfect chaos I had orchestrated.
And in my vision, the system delivered its verdict.
[Mission Complete!]
[Reward: 100 VP, 50 EXP awarded.]
[Bonus Objective Met: Flawless execution using pawns. Title 'Puppet Master' has been strengthened. You now have access to the 'Subjugation' tab for your pawns.]
I immediately navigated to the store.
[Purchase 'Silent Threat (Passive, Grade F)' for 100 VP?]
Yes.
A cold, sharp energy coursed through me, not a physical sensation, but a change in my very essence. It was like a lens snapping into focus. My own silent presence felt heavier, colder, more potent.
As the teachers finally managed to shut down the screen and started dismissing the hysterical students, my eyes scanned the crowd.
I saw Maya. She wasn't laughing like the others. She was standing on her seat, looking over the chaos not at the stage, but directly at me.
Our eyes locked across the gymnasium. And this time, she didn't look away. She knew. There was no doubt left.
She gave a tiny, almost imperceptible nod, a silent acknowledgment of my work.
Then, she hopped down from her seat and vanished into the exiting throng, leaving me with the chilling certainty that the game had just become infinitely more complicated.
The aftermath of the rally was a glorious, simmering stew of paranoia. The school was on lockdown.
Teachers patrolled the hallways with the grim determination of prison guards, their eyes scanning for any sign of insurrection.
Principal Thompson had issued a school-wide memo, his face a grim mask on every screen, promising 'severe and absolute consequences' for the 'anarchic elements' responsible for the 'disgraceful spectacle.'
An official investigation was underway, which meant teachers were randomly pulling students out of class for interrogations that went nowhere.
Through it all, I walked like a queen through her conquered territory. The fear and chaos were a shield, the frantic search for a culprit providing the perfect cover.
My three pawns were, if possible, even more terrified than before.
They were convinced that at any moment, a security drone would descend and drag them away.
Their fear was a constant, low-level hum at the edge of my senses, and thanks to my new skill, my silent presence seemed to amplify it, keeping them docile and compliant.
The real change was the student body. The laughter had faded, replaced by a buzzing, electric excitement. The 'Tribute of Fools,' as it was now being called, was the only thing anyone talked about.
The video montage had gone viral on the school's internal network, replayed and memed into oblivion before the administration could scrub it.
I had done more than disrupt a rally; I had given them a story, a shared secret. I had turned their reverence into a joke, and they loved me for it.
They didn't know it was me they loved, of course. To them, I was still the quiet, creepy girl who had somehow enslaved Mark.
But the power I wielded was now legendary.
During a quiet period in the library, I finally allowed myself to explore the new feature the system had granted me.
Hiding behind a dusty shelf of pre-Guild literature, I focused my will.
"Show me the Subjugation tab."
The red screen shifted, displaying a new interface, sleek and disturbingly clinical. It listed my three pawns.
[SUBJUGATED PAWNS]
[Pawn 1: Mark]
Status: Paranoid, Anxious.
Fear Level: 97/100
Loyalty: -22/100
Notes: Primary target of initial trauma. Responds well to direct, non-verbal intimidation. High risk of eventual breakdown.
[Pawn 2: Jake]
Status: Confused, Scared.
Fear Level: 84/100
Loyalty: -11/100
Notes: Simple-minded. Follows the group dynamic. Low-level tasks are optimal.
[Pawn 3: Leo]
Status: Regretful, Terrified.
Fear Level: 91/100
Loyalty: -18/100
Notes: Possesses a weak conscience. Prone to anxiety-induced errors.
Below the status readouts were a series of command options: [Issue Standing Order], [Monitor Vitals], and one that sent a cold shiver down my spine: [Inflict Minor Psychological Distress (Cost: 10 VP)].
A tool to remotely twist the knife. A truly villainous function. I filed it away for future consideration. For now, their natural terror was more than sufficient.
This tab was a game-changer. It was a dashboard for managing my human resources.
My quiet analysis was interrupted.
"So, that's how you do it."