CHAPTER 38: BURN THE TRACKS, NOT THE SPIRIT

Kairon stood beneath the shade of the canopy, arms loosely crossed as the wind tugged gently at his blazer. His cold gaze drifted across the track and locked onto Ren, who lounged under Class C’s tent, still smirking behind those smug, dark sunglasses.

Then, slowly, Kairon exhaled—softly, like a whisper wrapped in steel.

"Bribery. Corruption."

The words slipped from his lips like venom.

"In the world of sport, these are not anomalies. They’re inevitabilities."

He turned slightly to the side, watching Ren laugh with Miya, unconcerned.

"Even in something as small and contained as an academy-hosted sports festival... it seeps in. Like rot beneath polished floors. Like poison in a clear glass of water."

His voice deepened, thoughtful—measured.

"Sports were built on the foundation of fairness, of effort versus effort. But when one side realizes effort alone can’t guarantee victory... they look for shortcuts. That’s when fairness dies. That’s when corruption becomes the crutch of the incompetent and the weapon of the cunning."

He continued, almost to himself now. Cold, sharp, surgical.

"Bribery... it’s not just a crime. It’s a philosophy. A decision that truth doesn’t matter. That skill is irrelevant. That outcomes are toys to be bought and sold. That justice is optional, and integrity... disposable."

He tilted his head toward Ren again, voice calm but laced with quiet disgust.

"The moment the referee looked away and said nothing... the game was already over. Not the race. The game. Because this festival isn’t about running or jumping or fencing."

He looked up at the sky.

"It’s about power."

Then he looked back at Ren, eyes like frozen mirrors.

"You see it, don’t you? In their canopy... corruption isn’t a tactic. It’s an ecosystem. Ren doesn’t play fair because he doesn’t have to. He manipulates perception. Controls the narrative. To him, breaking the rules isn’t risky—it’s a form of dominance."

He clenched his jaw ever so slightly.

"And what’s worse? Everyone else lets him. Why? Because they’re too afraid to confront the truth: that fairness only exists when someone’s willing to bleed to protect it."

The next event had arrived—the 200-meter sprint.

Class D’s canopy buzzed with tension.

"I’ll go," Kei said, stepping forward. His face was calm, but his muscles were tight with anticipation.

Riven turned to him. "Are you sure? You’ve already run today. That ankle’s still not back to full strength. You push yourself too hard—"

"I can handle it," Kei replied.

He didn’t wait for more concern. He walked toward the track with a slow, steady pace. His shadow stretched beside him. His team watched him go, hearts clenched.

Riven lowered his head. "Sorry, Kei. We’re putting too much on you..."

Caden placed a hand on his shoulder. "We all are. Our class just doesn’t have enough athletes. We’ve all slacked."

Yua chimed in with a smirk. "Yeah, Riven. We’re just as useless."

Torin muttered, "What about Lucien?"

"No use," Riven said quickly. "He refused. Said he needed... time to groom."

"Groom?!" Sena snapped. "Is this a fashion show?!"

Caden sighed. "Still, we can’t rely on Kei alone."

Everyone fell silent.

A voice cut through the quiet.

"You all didn’t forget about me, did you?"

The entire group turned.

Ashir stood there, sports jacket slung over his shoulder, his build lean, agile. His eyes were sharp.

"Ashir?" Riven blinked. "You’re... joining?"

Ashir scoffed. "Why does that surprise you?"

"Well... you never really team up. Even in the jungle test, you kept your distance."

Ashir stretched his arms with a grin. "That’s because I didn’t want to hang out with a bunch of losers."

Caden playfully tapped his shoulder. "Come on, now. Just say you care."

Ashir shot him a glare. "Touch me again, and I’ll break your fingers."

Caden slowly backed away.

Aria stepped forward. "If you didn’t want to be involved, why now?"

Ashir’s smirk faded slightly. "Because of you."

"Me?"

Everyone turned to her.

Ashir looked straight at her. "When we introduced ourselves on the first day, we were alike—cold, calculating. You didn’t care about the others. But somewhere along the line, you changed. You brought this class together. You pushed people forward. That made me think... maybe I should stop standing in the shadows."

Aria was speechless. Her gaze shifted briefly toward the boy beneath the canopy—Kairon.

You changed me too, she thought. Ever since that day...

Ashir stepped closer to the group. "I’m running. I’ll win. For all of us."

Aria nodded. "Then let’s rise together—to Class S."

Kairon, arms folded under the shade, listened quietly. He didn’t speak. But in his chest, something flickered. They’re starting to believe...

----

The announcer’s voice rang out:

"This is the 200-meter sprint. One bend, pure speed. Runners, take your marks."

A breath.

"Set."

The stadium stilled.

BANG!

The gunshot echoed, and the four runners launched forward like bullets. Dirt lifted. Muscles tensed. The crowd erupted.

Fredrick took the early lead, legs slicing through the air like blades. His form was perfect—smooth, graceful, efficient. Years of training sculpted every step.

Cedric tried to keep up, but his form was less refined. He pushed with heart, but his energy wasn’t focused. His strides were uneven.

Kei ran with balance. Not too fast at first—he measured the track like it was chess. His legs hit the ground with force but not reckless speed. He was planning something.

And Albert—

Albert didn’t run.

He charged.

Like a truck down a hill, he bulldozed ahead, muscles pumping, feet pounding like war drums. The ground seemed to quake under him. And Kei, unfortunate enough to be on the lane beside him, could feel every vibration in his bones.

They hit the curve.

That’s when it happened.

Albert’s massive frame veered slightly inward—intentional, just enough to clip Kei’s side.

Kei’s foot caught the line.

Twist. Pop.

A sharp pain shot through his ankle. He staggered. His stride broke. The crowd gasped.

"Kei!" Yua screamed from the Class D section, shooting up from her seat.

He dropped to one knee, clutching his ankle. Seconds passed—eternities on the track. Pain pulsed through his leg like fire. He looked up. Fredrick and Albert were already halfway down the final stretch.

Cedric passed him, panting hard.

The stadium held its breath.

Kei stared down at the ground. His shadow stretched long beside him, distorted and shaking. He could stay down. No one would blame him.

But something flickered in his eyes. Not pride. Not ego.

Will.

He gritted his teeth and pushed up to his feet, limping for half a second... then running again.

Every step was agony. But Kei didn’t stop.

He couldn’t.

The finish line gleamed under the sunlight like salvation. The crowd saw him rising, pushing, running despite the pain.

And they roared.

He picked up speed—not with the precision of Fredrick or the force of Albert, but with sheer willpower. A limp in every step. His ankle screamed, but his heart screamed louder.

Fredrick crossed the line first—his hand slicing through the air.

Albert came second, looking smug, not even winded.

But as Cedric neared the finish, Kei surged—one last push.

Cedric glanced sideways, shocked—he couldn’t believe what he saw.

Kei passed him. By inches.

And then it was done.

Kei collapsed the moment he crossed the line, breathing hard, sweat dripping down his face as his hand clutched the throbbing pain in his ankle.

---

"Third place... Kei, Class D!!" the announcer shouted, almost in disbelief. The crowd exploded.

Yua and Sena sprinted to him with towels and water. "You idiot!" Yua shouted, half laughing, half crying. "You should’ve stopped!"

Kei gave her a tired smile. "I... couldn’t."

Sena knelt beside him, dabbing sweat from his forehead. "You’re insane."

Akira appeared beside them, fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. "C-Congratulations..." she said softly, cheeks flushed.

Then—

WHAM!

Riven, Torin, and Caden tackled him from behind, laughing and cheering.

"You crazy bastard!" Torin yelled.

"I thought you were done!" Caden added.

"You just love giving us heart attacks," Riven grinned.

Kei laughed despite the pain. It wasn’t the gold.

But it was a victory.

---

At Class B’s corner, Ken helped Cedric sit down. Cedric shook his head. "He passed me. Injured. Damn... that guy."

Ken sighed. "Told you Class D wasn’t to be underestimated."

---

At Class C’s tent, Albert walked in, rolling his shoulders. "Second. Good enough."

Ren didn’t clap. He didn’t even smile.

Tyler, bruised from earlier punishment, sat quietly on the bench nearby, face pale.

Ren tapped his fingers together.

"I don’t care about ’good enough.’" His voice was calm, but it dripped with frost. "Class D continues to stand. And that’s a problem."

Miya said nothing, watching from behind.

Albert scoffed. "What do you want? I tripped him. He still got up."

Ren’s sunglasses slid down the bridge of his nose just slightly, revealing sharp, predator-like eyes.

"And that’s exactly why he’s dangerous."

---

At Class A’s side, Fredrick sipped water and gave Adrien a nod. "It’s not about knocking them down anymore," he said. "It’s about making sure they stay down."

Adrien nodded slowly.

---

Far above the field, seated in the observation deck, Kael and several members of the student council watched silently.

"He sprained his ankle," one member said.

"But still took third," another murmured.

Kael’s glasses glinted as he leaned forward.

"So that’s Kei of Class D..."

And then he looked toward the Class D canopy.

But his eyes weren’t on Kei.

They were on Kairon.

---

Back at Class D’s tent, Ivy crossed her arms with a small smile. "Good work out there," she said to Kei.

Kei gave her a thumbs up, sweat still pouring.

Akira handed him a wrapped ice pack with both hands, not meeting his eyes. "F-For your ankle..."

"Thanks," he said, gently taking it.

Aria stood near the edge of the tent, arms folded, eyes on the track.

She didn’t say anything.

But when Kei caught her eye and smiled—

She nodded, just once.

---

And Kairon?

He never clapped. Never stood. Never moved.

He just watched Albert with unreadable eyes.

Then murmured to himself:

"Power without control... is just noise."