The hallway smelled like polished floors and expensive perfume.
Melbourne mornings were always cold, but St. Augustine's Academy felt colder today.
Lockers slammed.
Laughter echoed.
Phone cameras angled casually — but not casually enough.
Lucas Harrington stood in the center of it.
And he already knew.
Isabella Quinn didn't look at him the way she used to.
Her eyes were steady.
Detached.
Almost rehearsed.
"Lucas…" she started, adjusting the strap of her designer bag. "We need to talk."
That sentence always meant execution.
He forced a smile. "We are talking."
A few boys leaned against the lockers behind her. Watching.
Waiting.
And standing just a little too comfortably close to Isabella was Mason Carter.
The golden boy.
AFL youth prodigy. Scholarship student. Media darling. The future headline.
Lucas could feel it.
The shift.
The hierarchy rearranging itself in real time.
Isabella inhaled.
"I don't think this is working anymore."
Not angry. Not emotional. Just efficient.
Like canceling a subscription.
Lucas swallowed.
"Since when?"
She hesitated.
Not because she didn't know.
But because she didn't want to say it.
Mason stepped forward slightly. Protective. Or territorial.
"Since you stopped trying," Isabella said quietly. "You don't fight for anything. Not on the field. Not in life."
The hallway grew quieter.
Lucas heard someone whisper.
"Damn…"
He wanted to laugh.
Stopped trying?
He trained. He showed up. He endured being compared to Nathan every single day.
But he wasn't Nathan Harrington.
He wasn't the professional AFL son.
He wasn't the golden athlete.
He was the disappointment heir.
"I just think," Isabella continued, her voice gentler now — almost pitying — "you're comfortable being second."
That one landed.
Hard.
Lucas's jaw tightened.
Mason placed a hand on her shoulder.
Subtle.
Claiming.
"We're done, Lucas," she said. "I need someone who knows where he's going."
Mason didn't smirk.
He didn't need to.
The cameras around them were already eating this alive.
Lucas noticed.
He always noticed.
That was the problem.
He noticed everything. Felt everything. Absorbed everything.
And did nothing.
Isabella stepped aside.
The hallway parted.
Like he was already irrelevant.
Mason looked at him.
Not cruel. Not mocking.
Just confident.
"You'll be alright, mate," Mason said quietly.
That hurt more than if he'd laughed.
Lucas stood there.
Still.
As they walked away together.
The doors at the end of the hallway opened.
Light flooded in.
And Lucas realized something terrifying.
No one followed him.
No one asked if he was okay.
No one defended him.
His world had just ended publicly.
And the school moved on in under thirty seconds.
A notification buzzed somewhere nearby.
Then another.
And another.
Someone had already uploaded it.
He imagined the captions.
"Rich boy loses girlfriend to real athlete."
"Guess money can't buy confidence."
His chest tightened.
Not because she left.
But because she was right.
He didn't fight.
Not when compared to Nathan. Not when coaches benched him. Not when whispers followed him.
He endured.
He existed.
He survived.
But he never claimed space.
His phone buzzed in his pocket.
He didn't check it.
He didn't need to.
He could already hear the narrative forming.
Lucas Harrington. The heir. The soft one. The placeholder boyfriend.
He walked toward the exit instead of class.
Cold air hit his face the moment he stepped outside.
Melbourne wind sliced clean and sharp.
The football oval stretched in the distance.
Empty.
Wide.
Unforgiving.
He stared at it.
He remembered being ten.
Nathan teaching him how to kick properly.
"Commit, Lucas. Don't hesitate."
He always hesitated.
Because he was afraid of missing.
And today…
He missed everything.
A quiet sound interrupted his thoughts.
Footsteps on gravel.
Steady. Light. Measured.
Someone was running laps around the oval.
He turned slightly.
A girl.
Long dark ponytail. Breathing controlled. Stride efficient.
She didn't look at him.
Didn't slow down.
Didn't care that he existed.
And somehow…
That felt better than the hallway.
Lucas exhaled.
His hands were shaking.
Not from sadness.
From something heavier.
Something rising.
He felt it in his chest.
A pressure.
Like something waiting.
Waiting for him to decide.
Keep enduring?
Or finally claim something?
His phone buzzed again.
This time louder in the silence.
He pulled it out slowly.
Unknown notification.
Black screen flickered.
Then—
Static.
A single line of text appeared.
(SOVEREIGN ASCENSION SYSTEM INITIALIZING…)
Lucas blinked.
The screen glitched.
Wind howled across the oval.
The girl running didn't look up.
His heartbeat slowed.
Then steadied.
The text changed.
(HOST DETECTED: LUCAS HARRINGTON)
(STATUS: DORMANT AUTHORITY)
(TRIGGER EVENT: PUBLIC DISPLACEMENT)
(QUESTION: DO YOU WISH TO ASCEND?)
His fingers trembled.
Ascend?
He almost laughed.
Was this stress? A breakdown? A hallucination?
Another line appeared.
(WARNING: CONTINUED PASSIVITY WILL RESULT IN PERMANENT SOCIAL ERASURE)
(CHOOSE: YES / REMAIN INSIGNIFICANT)
The wind felt colder now.
He thought about Isabella's eyes.
About Mason's quiet confidence.
About the cameras.
About being second.
His thumb hovered.
If this was madness…
Maybe he needed it.
Lucas Harrington pressed:
YES.
The screen went black.
The oval lights flickered — even though it was morning.
His pulse deepened.
Not faster.
Stronger.
Something settled inside him.
Not rage.
Not revenge.
Clarity.
A new line formed.
(WELCOME, SOVEREIGN CANDIDATE.)
Lucas looked up.
The girl running finally slowed near him.
She wiped sweat from her forehead and glanced at him briefly.
Her eyes lingered.
Not with pity.
Not with recognition.
Assessment.
Then she ran again.
And Lucas realized something subtle.
For the first time in years
He didn't feel small.
He felt unfinished.
And unfinished things could still become dangerous.
The wind carried distant laughter from the main building.
But it sounded far away now.
He looked at the oval.
Then at his reflection in the dark phone screen.
"Alright," he whispered to no one.
"Let's see what I become."
Somewhere deep inside
Something answered.
And it wasn't gentle.
If you're enjoying this journey, drop your thoughts, reviews, comments, and add this story to your collection.
Tell me if you were given the choice between staying comfortable or becoming feared… which would you choose?