CHAPTER 59: THE CHALLENGE

Half an hour. That was all the notice the campus needed to rearrange itself into a small, breathless arena.

Word spread fast. Students poured onto the bleachers and the grass, phones up, gossip already turning into wagers.

Some came for the spectacle... Alex versus Marcus, the unfinished fight now wrapped in regulation and a whistle.

Others came for the sport: a proper game between Marcus’s practiced crew and whatever ragtag classmates Alex could scrape together.

Marcus’s team name had already stuck in ten different mouths: Apex XI... trimmed jerseys, synchronized warmups, the sort of practiced coldness that said they’d been coached by professionals.

Tyler warmed up beside Marcus, loose and practiced; Jonah and Reese ran drills like they meant it.

Their fans weren’t subtle: whistles, shouts, a girl in a varsity jacket who kept smiling too long whenever Marcus ran by.

They moved like men who treated the ball as an extension of themselves.

One the other hand, Alex was still figuring out his lineup. He and Danny were already set... Danny was fast, sharp, and always reliable on the field.

Mike, on the other hand, never cared much for football. He laughed it off when Alex asked, promising instead,

"I’ll cheer for you guys from the stands... with Sarah. That’s more my style."

A couple more classmates who’d played competitively before gave him a green light, so the core was there.

Still, Alex was short on two players and, more importantly, a keeper.

That’s when he noticed two familiar figures crossing the ground toward him... William and Brad.

Both were solid players, William a tough defender and Brad a natural goalkeeper, but they had never exactly been friendly with him.

Alex narrowed his eyes, already bracing himself.

"Hey," William said, stopping just a few feet away. "We also want to play."

Danny raised his brows. "Really?"

"C’mon, don’t act so surprised." William’s tone was casual, but his expression had a sharp edge. "We’re from the same class. And now... this isn’t just a game, it’s class against class."

He could see the calculation in their eyes, the quiet scheming like a game he hadn’t been invited to.

He didn’t trust them... but right now, he needed players more than he needed to untangle their plots.

So he kept his silence, let the moment stretch, then gave a single, measured nod.

"Fine. You’re in."

Just like that, the team was complete.

Alex was about to settle the lineup, when a soft ding echoed in his mind.

•••

[ MINI QUEST — DOMINION SYSTEM ]

Objective 1: Dominate and Win the match.

Reward: 2,000 CP

Failure: None

Objective 2: Exercise restraint even if provoked.

Reward: 3,000 CP

Failure: Can lead to expulsion from the college (triggered by administrative review).

Note: High stakes. External interest has escalated the consequences.

•••

Alex blinked, staring at the translucent screen in disbelief.

"Wow... I was going to say, generous rewards for a mini task," he muttered under his breath, "but the failure penalty... expulsion? Isn’t that a bit too much? And why would I even be expelled over a football game?"

Lilith’s voice slid into his mind, smooth and honeyed.

"Oh, Alex... you still think this is just a simple game? Someone out there is tugging strings, waiting for you to slip.

A little injury, a bit of chaos... and suddenly, you’re painted as the violent scholarship boy who doesn’t belong here."

Her laughter curled like smoke.

"I’ll leave it to you to figure out who’s plotting... but consider this my test too.

"Show me restraint, darling. Dominate them... but without breaking a single bone."

Alex had just finished picking out his squad when a loud voice cut through the field like a blade.

"Are you planning to camp there all day?" Marcus shouted, his arms spread wide in mock disbelief. "Or did you bring your little kindergarten club just to watch us play?"

His teammates snickered, tossing their own jabs like stones.

"Don’t trip on the grass, scholar-boy."

"Better tighten those shoelaces, I don’t want to see you crying before halftime."

"Hope you brought extra goals for yourselves... cause we’re not leaving you with any."

The laughter rolled across the pitch, sharp and cocky.

From the sidelines, the crowd joined in, their voices blending into a storm of noise.

"Why are you even bothering?" one student yelled dismissively.

"This isn’t a charity match!" another jeered.

"I’m calling it already... fifteen to nothing!"

Booing followed, deep and heavy, like a wave crashing against them. It wasn’t just noise... it was a verdict, a sentence before the game had even started.

Alex’s team stepped onto the field, steady and alert, the jeers rolling over them like noise they didn’t plan to answer... yet.

***

Few Days Ago

Marcus Steele didn’t bother slowing down. His shoes clicked hard against the polished marble of the administration building’s hall, each step fueled by humiliation and rage.

Robert and Tyler kept pace behind him, exchanging a glance but saying nothing. They had both seen the color drain from Marcus’s face when he come out of Dr. Wells’s office, and they knew better than to prod him now.

When the double doors of the president’s office came into view, Marcus didn’t knock... he pushed them open.

Inside, the office smelled faintly of old books and sandalwood polish. Heavy drapes softened the sunlight and cast the room in a muted glow.

Behind a vast oak desk sat President Gerald Pierce, an older man with neatly combed silver hair and half-moon glasses resting low on his nose.

He was writing something in a ledger with deliberate strokes, as though time itself moved at his pace.

Robert and Tyler immediately stopped short. Both bowed their heads respectfully.

"Good afternoon, President Pierce," Robert said firmly.

"Sir," Tyler echoed.

The older man looked up, a mild smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Ah, Robert, Tyler. Always polite. You make me feel less like an old desk ornament in this university."

His eyes shifted to Marcus. "And you, Marcus... no greeting for me today?"

Marcus stiffened, jaw tight. For a moment, the defiance itched to burst out again. But his father’s lessons about appearances whispered in the back of his mind.

Even if he thought Pierce was nothing more than a glorified caretaker for the Steele family’s influence, he forced himself to bend.

"Good afternoon, sir," he said, voice low but respectful. He didn’t bow his head, but he modulated his tone.

Pierce chuckled softly and set down his pen. "Better. Now, why don’t the three of you sit? Storming into a man’s office without knocking... bad manners, you know. You’re lucky I have no taste for formality."

Marcus sat first, pressing forward, eyes fixed on Pierce. Robert and Tyler followed, more composed but attentive.

"Sir," Marcus began, his voice sharper than he intended, "did I do something to offend you? To disrespect you?"

Pierce blinked, almost bemused. "Offend me? No, my boy. Why would you think that?"

Marcus clenched his hands together. "Because... because you knew. You knew about him. About that brat Alexander Hale. You knew James Blackwood himself called you. And yet you said nothing. You let me find out from Dr. Wells instead, like some fool."

The president tilted his head, eyes twinkling with something unreadable. "Ah... so that’s what rattled you."

Robert and Tyler stayed quiet, though their shoulders tensed at the mention of Blackwood’s name.

Pierce leaned back in his chair, folding his hands over his stomach.

"Yes, James Blackwood called me. Quite directly. Not a secretary, not an assistant... himself. It was... surprising, I’ll admit."

He paused, letting the weight of his words settle. "He asked me to keep an eye on young Hale. To ensure nothing... severe happened to him. That’s all."

Marcus scowled. "That’s all? Sir, you know what this means. He’s untouchable. If we so much as..."

"Expel you?" Pierce finished for him, his voice smooth, almost kind. "No, Marcus. Listen carefully. You’re letting Wells spook you with half-truths. James Blackwood told me to watch the boy, not to cradle him in cotton."

He tipped slightly closer, his smile turning thinner, colder. "He didn’t say I couldn’t discipline him if he crossed the line. He didn’t say I couldn’t act if he himself caused trouble. All he forbade was negligence. Do you understand?"

Marcus’s eyes narrowed, confusion and hope mingling. "So... what you’re saying is..."

"I’m saying," Pierce said, his tone dropping into something almost conspiratorial,

"that if Alexander Hale were to lash out... violently, in front of witnesses, if he were to prove himself a danger to this school’s harmony... then I would have no hesitation in expelling him."

He allowed a shadow of a smirk to curl across his lips, letting the weight of his words sink in.

"James Blackwood cannot complain if the boy brings it upon himself."

He leaned back slightly. "Not that he could intervene even if he wanted to... he’s already entangled in matters far bigger than you realize. But that, my young friends, is a story for another day."

For a heartbeat, silence reigned. Then Marcus shifted in his chair, the first real smile tugging at his lips since morning.

"That’s... clever," he admitted grudgingly.

Robert spoke for the first time, his voice measured. "So, if we provoke him... if he strikes first..."

"Exactly," Pierce said, his voice light as if explaining a simple game of chess. "You needn’t even provoke him openly. He is impulsive, yes? Hot-blooded. Prideful. Create the right scenario. Push him toward a public mistake. Then, my hands are clean. I will simply be enforcing rules."

Tyler nodded slowly, though unease flickered across his face. "And if we fail?"

Pierce smiled again, grandfatherly warmth slipping back into his tone. "Then you’ve simply played a game of football with a classmate. What’s the harm in that?"

Marcus laughed, bitter but charged with renewed confidence. "You make it sound so simple."

"It is that simple, son." The president’s gaze sharpened, just for a moment. "But remember this: do not underestimate him. A man like James Blackwood doesn’t waste his breath on nobodies. Hale may be more than he appears. Test him... but don’t take him lightly."

The warning slid past Marcus like water off stone. His mind was already working, crafting scenarios.

A brawl on the field? A challenge that Alex couldn’t refuse? Something public, undeniable. Yes... that would do.

He stood abruptly. "Thank you, sir. You’ve been most helpful."

Pierce inclined his head, grandfatherly again, as if the entire conversation had been about grades or attendance. "Of course, my boy. I only want what’s best for my students."

But as Marcus turned, Robert and Tyler trailing him, Pierce’s smile lingered... too sharp, too knowing.

The door shut behind them with a heavy thud, and for a long moment the office was silent except for the ticking of the old grandfather clock. Pierce finally leaned back, eyes narrowing toward the window.

"Let’s see what kind of beast you really are... to catch the attention of James Blackwood, Alexander Hale," he murmured, voice low and dangerous.