A full week had passed since that first chaotic day at school—the day my sisters sent the bullies running like frightened dogs.
After that, everything changed.
People started whispering my name in hallways, not with mockery but with awe and curiosity. "That's Bruce Valen," they said, "the one who has five sisters that every senior's scared of."
At first, I thought it was funny. Then it started getting ridiculous. Every time teachers mentioned group projects, half the class looked desperate to partner with me. Even the bullies kept their distance. They smiled nervously whenever I walked by.
But I wasn't interested in fame—or fear. What I wanted was peace.
Deep inside, though, I knew peace had to be protected.
It began small.
One afternoon after classes, I was walking toward the school gate when I noticed a boy crouching near the vending machines. He was smaller than the others and looked injured—his uniform dusty, his elbow bleeding slightly.
"What happened?" I asked, bending beside him.
He froze, clearly embarrassed. "N-Nothing… just fell."
But I didn't need an answer. My instincts told me instantly: he was bullied. I could see the faint shoe prints on his shirt and the nervous way his eyes flickered.
It hit something deep inside me—memories of another orphanage, another lifetime, when I had been the boy lying on the ground.
I offered him my hand. "Come on. Let's clean that wound."
At the sink near the gym, I washed his elbow and used a tissue from my pocket. The water blurred, glowing faintly for a second—so faint he didn't even notice. A single drop of the Supreme River Water, hidden in my everyday bottle, had done its work.
When he looked again, the wound was gone.
He stared in disbelief. "How…?"
"Must've been light," I said with a small grin. "You're tougher than you think."
From that day, he followed me around like a quiet shadow. His name was Ryan, and despite his shy nature, he had a sharp mind. Soon enough, he became my first true friend at school.
Rumours began to spread. Students started saying, "Whenever something bad happens, somehow Bruce Valen shows up."
A stolen phone reappeared in a locker.
A teacher's missing report file was suddenly discovered sitting on her desk.
A group of smaller kids found their broken bikes repaired overnight.
To them, it felt like magic.
To me, it was just quiet work.
Every night, while others slept, I'd slip into my Supreme Space, repair items with the system's conversion feature, or locate stolen goods using my surveillance programmes. Then I'd return them silently to where they belonged.
I didn't do it for recognition. I did it because peace was fragile, and I couldn't stand seeing others suffer the way I once had.
That was my quiet mission.
But good deeds don't stay secret for long.
At lunch one day, Luna dropped by my table with her usual fiery grin. "You're turning into some kind of school hero, you know that?"
I nearly choked on my sandwich. "Hero? Me? No way."
Aria, sitting beside her, gave a knowing smile. "We've heard about you fixing problems. You're more active than the discipline committee itself."
"Not fixing, just helping." I tried to sound casual.
Eve raised an eyebrow, her crimson eyes glimmering. "Helping? I checked the school's security feed. A few blurry clips suggest someone walks the corridors at night. Short, silent, and efficient. Sounds… familiar."
I froze. "You—checked the cameras?"
She smirked. "Of course. You're not the only one with secrets, little brother."
Luna laughed loudly. "That's our Bruce! I knew you couldn't stay out of trouble for long."
Clara placed a hand on my shoulder. "What you're doing—it's kind. But be careful. Good intentions attract attention, too."
I nodded, quietly grateful. My sisters saw more than they let on, but none of them told our parents. They trusted me enough to keep it between us. And that trust meant everything.
The next few weeks turned busy.
My fame—accidental as it was—only grew. People began coming to me privately with small problems: a missing wallet, a teacher's unfair grade, and rumours that needed clearing. I helped as best as I could without revealing too much of my power.
But even quite good deeds draw unwanted eyes.
One day, during sports class, I noticed a few boys watching me from a distance. They weren't the usual bullies. They looked… sharper, older. One had a faint scar across his jaw.
As I practised in the field, I caught fragments of their whispers.
"That's him."
"Valen's kid?"
"Keep an eye on him. Boss wants confirmation."
I frowned. My instincts sharpened immediately. These weren't students—they were watchers. Possibly spies from families that had clashed with the Valens in business or politics.
That night, I activated my personal drone from within the Supreme Space. The device shimmered faintly before vanishing from view, entering its stealth mode. Through my hidden link, I followed the outsiders.
They met behind a café not far from the academy. One of them spoke on the phone, whispering my name.
"Bruce Valen. The boy's stronger than reported. Inform the client. We'll need a closer look."
My hands clenched. For a moment, the ruthless fire of Aron Tuner, the Underworld King, returned.
[Alert Detected: External threat proximity 3 km. Would you like to deploy countermeasures?
"No," I told the system. "Not yet. I want to watch them longer."
The following day, the same men didn't show up. But I wasn't foolish enough to relax. I moved carefully, hiding any signs of my strength, playing the polite younger son that everyone thought I was.
Meanwhile, in the shadows of my Supreme Space, I built a new network—a digital web quietly spreading across the city's cyberpathways. Small, invisible, and intelligent. A second pair of eyes watching over the Valen family.
Each night, I whispered new commands: defence protocols, tracking systems, and false information trails to mislead enemies.
And every morning, I smiled at my family, pretending nothing was wrong.
At school, life slowly became normal again. Ryan and I spent lunch together, and students stopped seeing me as someone unreachable. In fact, my strange calmness seemed to draw them in. Eventually, a circle of friends formed around me—a group of kids who, without realising it, began calling themselves The Band.
It was strange hearing it. The same name Luna had joked about weeks earlier.
We started studying, hanging out, and even helping others in small ways. It felt good. Real. Human.
Still, every time I laughed with them, part of me stayed distant—watching, guarding, waiting.
Because deep down, I knew this peace was the calm before a storm.
And when that storm came, I wouldn't run this time. I'd be ready.
That night, in my room, I looked out the window at the darkening sky.
The city lights twinkled below, soft and fragile. I pressed my palm against the glass, the faint symbol of the Supreme Space glowing lightly beneath my skin.
"I've built my empire once," I whispered, "but now, I'll build a shield."
In the reflection, I saw not a boy, but something more.
The silent protector in shadows. The forgotten king reborn.
Not to rule. But to guard.
Because even if no one ever knew my name, the world would still feel my presence.
Unseen.
Unheard.
Unbroken.