School had become something strange for Max, something he never expected.
A sanctuary. Not because he liked the lessons. He didn’t even attend most of them.
But because here, in the middle of the noise, he had time to think.
Time to breathe. Time to plan.
It was ironic, how a place that once felt suffocating was now the only place where his head felt clear.
I misjudged Steven, Max thought, absentmindedly spinning his pen between his fingers.
When I first met him, I thought he was easy to control. Thought his debts would make him desperate. That he’d choose money over everything.
His eyes drifted toward the window.
But that’s not it. He values money because of his situation. But what drives him? That’s different. I saw it on his face. The way he trained me. The way he meant every single word.
Max’s hand stilled.
He’s a man who chooses his morals over anything else.
And now, Max had placed him in a position of power.
Not because Steven asked for it. But because he earned it.
If I call on him, I know he’ll answer. No hesitation.
A small smile tugged at Max’s lips.
Other than Aron, Steven was the first person who felt like a true ally of the Billion Bloodline.
And Max understood that this, this, was what building a real group meant.
Not numbers. Not influence. Not fear.
Trust.
Because when things get ugly, and they will, you don’t need people around you. You need the right people.
His smile faded as another thought pulled at him.
Steven was right, too.
I’ve been in a lot of fights. I’ve got experience. But experience isn’t the same as greatness. And if I go up against someone truly skilled, someone trained, someone gifted, my instinct alone won’t be enough.
He slumped forward on the desk, pressing his forehead into his arms.
His head throbbed. Too many thoughts. Too many unknowns.
But what am I good at? Steven had said he was good at copying others. Mimicking techniques. Adapting.
But was that enough? Is being a jack of all trades really a strength?
He thought of Aron. Cold. Precise. Master of every weapon he touched.
Max’s hands curled slightly. I need to find what makes me dangerous.
Joe and Steven both excel at boxing... Jay’s more of a grappler, good with wrestling techniques. Dipter relied on his legs, used kicks like weapons.
Max leaned back in his seat, staring at the ceiling as thoughts swirled.
So what about me?
Should I just try out different martial arts until something fits?
I think I tried that in my old body. Nothing ever really stuck. But maybe this new one... maybe it’s capable of something different. Something better.
Absentmindedly, Max fiddled under his desk, and his fingers brushed against something small.
Another piece of paper.
Again?
He pulled it out, unfolded it, and just like last time, it was a joke.
Why did the scarecrow win an award?
Because he was outstanding in his field.
A laugh slipped out before he could stop it.
"These stupid jokes..." Max muttered to himself, shaking his head. Is it her?
How does she keep sneaking these in without me noticing? Either she’s a ninja, or she’s been getting here way earlier than everyone else.
And for some reason... she’s getting less annoying by the day.
"Some schools are debating forming an alliance to take us down. Others... want to join us."
But with everything going on... the timing couldn’t be worse.
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