Oakridge woke up quietly.
Too quietly.
The corridors were clean. The bells rang on time. Teachers smiled like nothing had changed. Yet something invisible pressed down on the campus—an unspoken order, sharp and suffocating.
Aarvin felt it the moment he stepped out of the dorm.
The training hall doors were locked.
A fresh notice hung crookedly on the gate:
> **TEMPORARILY CLOSED — MAINTENANCE**
Aarvin stared at it longer than necessary. Maintenance had never stopped them before. Not after midnight practices. Not after injuries. Not after fights.
Adrien joined him silently, reading the notice once.
Then again.
"This wasn't written for everyone," Adrien said calmly.
Aarvin exhaled through his nose. "No. Just for me."
---
**The Campus Shifts**
By noon, the pattern became impossible to ignore.
* Storm Pack practice? Cancelled.
* Coach Ramirez? "Unavailable due to administrative review."
* Group activities? Restricted to "registered teams only."
A new notice board near the admin wing displayed freshly printed rules:
> **Unauthorized gatherings will result in immediate disciplinary action.**
> **Repeated involvement in campus disturbances will lead to suspension.**
Riyan read it aloud and laughed once. "Wow. They really upgraded the language."
Adrien didn't smile.
"They didn't upgrade it," he said. "They sharpened it."
John stood a little apart, scrolling through his phone. His jaw tightened.
"This is planned," he muttered. "Too clean to be coincidence."
Aarvin didn't answer. His eyes were fixed on the notice board, his reflection faint in the glass.
No punches.
No threats.
Just walls closing in.
---
**The Summons**
The message came at 2:17 PM.
*Disciplinary Committee — Immediate Attendance Required*
Same room.
Same white walls.
Same frosted windows.
But this time, the air felt colder.
Principal Hawthorne sat at the center, hands folded. Two committee members flanked her, expressions unreadable.
"Aarvin Storm," she began, "we've received multiple anonymous reports."
Aarvin stood straight. "About what, exactly?"
"Intimidation. Unauthorized activity. Influence over student behavior."
A file slid across the table.
Printed screenshots.
Time-stamped logs.
Incident reports—dated perfectly.
Too perfectly.
"These reports suggest a pattern," a committee member said. "A recurring presence wherever disorder follows."
Aarvin's eyes narrowed. "So now I'm responsible for rumors?"
Principal Hawthorne sighed. "Patterns don't lie, Aarvin."
A pause.
"Effective immediately, your probation status has been extended. Any further incident—any at all—and we will have no choice but to recommend suspension."
No mention of James.
No mention of the basement.
No mention of weapons or threats.
Just him.
"Am I dismissed?" Aarvin asked quietly.
"Yes."
The door closed behind him with a soft click.
That sound felt louder than any punch he'd taken.
---
**John Connects the Dots**
John didn't speak until evening.
He sat alone in the computer lab, lights dimmed, screens glowing faintly. Fingers moved fast—logs, schedules, access records.
And then he saw it.
Camera maintenance scheduled **hours before** reported incidents.
Witness IDs repeating across unrelated complaints.
Time stamps altered by seconds—small enough to look natural.
John leaned back slowly.
"He's not attacking Aarvin," he whispered.
"He's erasing him."
His phone buzzed.
Adrien: *Find something?*
John typed back with shaking hands.
> *It's a system attack. Someone high up. Someone patient.*
Three dots appeared. Then stopped.
Adrien already knew.
---
### **The Name**
Night fell. Rooftop. Wind cut sharp.
Aarvin stood near the edge, city lights distant and uncaring.
Adrien joined him. Riyan stayed behind, unusually quiet.
"This isn't James," Aarvin said finally. "He doesn't think like this."
Adrien nodded. "James wanted fear."
"And this?" Aarvin asked.
Adrien's eyes hardened.
"This wants control."
He paused once. Just once.
"Lucien Crowe."
The name landed heavy.
Riyan frowned. "Who?"
Adrien didn't look at him. "The kind of man who wins wars without entering the battlefield."
Aarvin turned slowly. "So this is my real enemy."
Adrien met his gaze. "Yes. And he doesn't fight storms."
"What does he fight?" Riyan asked.
Adrien answered softly.
"Time. Rules. Reputation."
Aarvin clenched his fists, then relaxed them.
"Good," he said quietly. "Then I stop reacting."
---
**Elsewhere**
Top floor. Administrative wing.
Lucien Crowe stood by the window, hands behind his back, watching Oakridge glow below like a controlled experiment.
An assistant approached hesitantly. "Sir… Aarvin Storm is losing support."
Lucien smiled faintly.
"No," he corrected.
"He's being taught how the world actually works."
Lightning flashed far off in the distance.
Lucien didn't turn.
---
The storm wasn't breaking anymore.
It was learning.
*To be continued…*