Reign Of Loner

My heart was a drum solo against my ribs, frantic and loud enough that I was sure everyone in the crowded school hallway could hear it. My palms were slick with sweat. This was a terrible, horrible, no-good idea. Every nerve ending screamed at me to turn around, to melt back into the anonymous sea of students and live to be bullied another day.

But I couldn't. The mission was locked in, a glowing red window only I could see, hovering in the corner of my vision:

[Mission: Chaotic Kiss]

[Objective: Kiss Stacy Brooklyn]

[Time Limit: 1 hour]

[Penalty: Castration]

Yeah. Castration. The King's Conquest System didn't mess around. Fear was a powerful motivator, and right now, the fear of that penalty was just a little stronger than the fear of the six-foot-two slab of muscle walking toward me.

That slab of muscle was Charles Patrick, school boxing champion and all-around jerk, and beside him Stacy Brooklyn, the girl who occupied about ninety percent of my thoughts. They were like a king and queen parting the Red Sea of students. People just naturally moved out of their way. They owned this hallway.

As you know, my plan was, on the surface, incredibly stupid. I was going to walk right into Charles. No apology. No acknowledgement. Just pure, unadulterated arrogance. He was a hothead, everyone knew that. It wouldn't take much to light his fuse. The system had given me a boost but still looking at the size of Charles's arms, I felt like I was bringing a butter knife to a sharp sword.

You can't be the timid kid anymore, Adam, I told myself, my own voice a weak echo against the system's terrifying threats. You have to be the one who knocks. You have to be a monster.

Taking a deep, shaky breath, I steeled myself. I lowered my gaze, focusing on a point just past Charles's shoulder, and walked forward with a purpose I didn't feel. My steps were even. My shoulders were back. Fake it 'til you make it, right?

The moment of impact was less dramatic than I expected. My shoulder connected squarely with his chest. It was like walking into a brick wall. He grunted, stumbling back a step. I didn't stop. I just kept walking, pushing past him as if he were nothing more than a piece of furniture.

The hallway, which had been buzzing with a thousand conversations, fell silent. You could have heard a pin drop.

"Hey!" Charles's voice boomed behind me, dripping with disbelief. "You! Don't you have something to say?"

This was it. Act One. I paused for a second, but didn't turn around. I just glanced over my shoulder, giving him a look of utter boredom. "No," I said, my voice coming out colder and steadier than I thought possible. "I don't think so."

"Come back here," he snarled.

I ignored him. I took another step. Then another. The silence was deafening. I could feel dozens of eyes on my back. I could feel his rage building like a physical force.

I didn't have to wait long. I heard the scuff of his expensive sneakers as he lunged. The air shifted behind me. Primal instinct, amplified by the system's power, screamed a warning. He was swinging for the back of my head. A knockout blow for the old Adam.

But I wasn't the old Adam.

Without even thinking, I ducked my head to the side. His fist, a meaty blur, whistled past where my skull had been a millisecond before. The sheer force of his missed punch threw him off balance. In that split second, my body moved on its own. My hand shot out, grabbing the wrist of his punching arm. I twisted, planting my foot behind his and using his own momentum against him.

It was a perfect full-body drop throw.

Charles, the untouchable champion, hit the linoleum floor with a heavy, satisfying thud. The air rushed out of his lungs in a surprised "oof."

A collective gasp rippled through the hallway. Phones were already out, recording. No one could believe what they were seeing. How could the school's punching bag, the quiet, nerdy kid who always had his head down, just throw the boxing champ like a sack of potatoes?

I looked over at Stacy. Her perfectly made-up jaw was hanging open, her green eyes wide with a mixture of shock and something else I couldn't quite read.

Charles's face was a masterpiece of fury. It went from pale white to beet red in about two seconds. He scrambled to his feet, his eyes burning with a murderous light.

"You know what? You're dead," he seethed, shaking his head as if to clear it. "You're so dead, Mr. Nobody."

He came at me again, but this time he was smarter. He didn't lead with a wild haymaker. He led with his sport. A sharp jab snapped out, then another. A hook followed. He was a machine, a flurry of leather-gloved fists—or at least, that's how it felt.

I was purely on the defensive. My arms came up to block, and each punch felt like being hit with a hammer. Thump. Thump. Thump. Pain radiated up my forearms. My bones felt like they were vibrating. He was a champion for a reason. My [Normal Close Combat] skill was keeping me on my feet, guiding my dodges and blocks with an unnatural efficiency, but it was just that: normal. It wasn't going to win me this fight.

"Is that all you got?" he taunted, landing a solid punch to my ribs that made me see stars. "You're just a coward who got in a lucky shot!"

Adrenaline was pumping through me like fire. The mission timer in my vision was ticking down. The penalty loomed. I couldn't lose. I wouldn't lose. I had to do this. At any cost.

I kept dodging, weaving, letting him waste his energy. He was fueled by pure rage, and angry fighters make mistakes. They get sloppy. I just had to wait for it. My body ached, my lungs burned, but I waited.

And then I saw it.

After a particularly vicious right hook that I barely slipped under, he left his jaw exposed for a fraction of few seconds. His guard was down. It was my only chance.

I didn't hesitate. I put everything I had into it. I pivoted on my back foot, channeling all my momentum, and launched a high kick. My shin connected squarely with the side of his jaw.

The crack of the impact was sickeningly loud in the quiet hallway.

Charles's eyes went blank. His body went limp, and he crumpled to the floor in a heap, out cold before he even hit the ground.

Silence.

Then, a wave of murmurs and whispers erupted all around me. I stood there, chest heaving, every muscle in my body screaming in protest. My leg felt like it was on fire. Charles wasn't a champion for nothing; even knocking him out hurt like hell. But I'd won. I'd actually won.

My gaze found Stacy. She was staring at her unconscious boyfriend on the floor, then back at me, her face a pale mask of disbelief.

I limped toward her, pushing through the pain. The adrenaline was starting to fade, but I had to finish the mission.

"You know, Stacy," I said, my voice raspy. "You deserve better." I gestured with my head toward the lump on the floor. "You deserve someone who can actually protect you. He can't even protect himself. How's he supposed to protect you from a real threat?"

My words seemed to hit a nerve. Her shock morphed into anger. She drew herself up, her own brand of fire flashing in her eyes. "You don't get to talk," she spat. "You're a coward. You fought dirty."

I almost laughed. "Dirty? He sucker-punched me from behind. He came at me like a maniac. I defended myself. Now you're telling me I'm the bad guy? He's the one with no honor, not me."

"How dare you say that about him!" she yelled, her voice trembling with rage. "I'll make your life hell! Do you have any idea who my father is?"

I had heard the rumors. Her father was some big-shot lawyer or businessman or something like this. The kind of man who could make a kid like me disappear. The old Adam would have been terrified. But the new Adam, the one fueled by the system and a lifetime of pent-up resentment, just didn't care.

I stepped closer, invading her personal space. I looked directly into her furious, beautiful eyes. "I love you, Stacy," I said, the words feeling both insane and completely right. "I love you so much. I love you more than he ever could."

Her anger faltered, replaced by sheer, dumbfounded confusion. "What... what the hell are you saying? Have you gone completely insane?"

She was looking right at me, her lips parted in shock. That was my cue.

Before she could react, before she could pull away, I cupped her face with my hands, my thumbs resting gently on her jawline. I leaned in and pressed my lips to hers.

For a second, her entire body went rigid. Her mind just... short-circuited. I didn't give her time to think. I deepened the kiss, making it passionate, demanding. It wasn't a sweet, romantic kiss. It was a statement. A claim. I was kissing her in front of the whole school, right over her unconscious boyfriend's body. I wanted to leave a mark on her soul.

A strange warmth spread through her, and for a heartbeat, she almost seemed to lean into it. Then, reality came crashing back. She shoved me away with all her might, stumbling backward. Her face was flushed a brilliant crimson, a mixture of rage and embarrassment. She was blushing. Hard.

"How dare you!" she shrieked, her voice an octave higher than usual. "How dare you kiss me! I'll kill you!"

I just smiled, a real smile this time. I reached out and gently took her hand. "I'm in love with you, Stacy," I repeated, my voice soft but firm. "Deeply."

She was so caught up in the whirlwind of emotions—shock from the fight, confusion from my confession, fury from the kiss—that she couldn't even form a coherent sentence.

And in that moment, I made a classic rookie mistake. I got distracted. I thought the hero was down for the count. I was wrong.

A blur of motion from the corner of my eye was my only warning. Charles was back on his feet. And he was livid. A straight right hand, thrown with every ounce of his remaining strength and humiliation, slammed into the side of my face.

There was a flash of white light. The world tilted sideways. I was airborne for a second before my body slammed hard against the cold metal of the lockers. The impact rattled my teeth. I slid down to the floor, my head spinning. The coppery taste of blood filled my mouth. My nose was definitely broken.

"I'LL KILL YOU!" Charles roared, his voice raw and broken. "HOW DARE YOU TOUCH MY GIRL!"

Normally, a punch like that would have put me in the hospital. The pain was immense, a blinding, white-hot agony. But here's the thing about being the school punching bag for years: you build up a certain... tolerance. This was nothing new.

And in the middle of that haze of pain, a beautiful, beautiful sound chimed in my head, accompanied by a glowing red box.

"[Congratulations] [Mission: [Chaotic Kiss] has been completed!] [Time remaining: 00:05:17] [Reward: Skill [Boxing Proficiency], 50 Fear Coins]"

A slow, villainous smile spread across my bloody face. I pushed myself up, using the lockers for support. I could feel the new skill settling into my mind, a flood of knowledge about footwork, combinations, and timing.

I started laughing like a maniac and looked at Charles, who was panting, his eyes wild and bloodshot. "You know what?" I said, spitting a gob of blood onto the floor. "You're nothing. You can hit me all you want, but I still kissed your girlfriend. In front of everyone. How are you going to face them now, Mr. Champion?"

I was pouring gasoline on a bonfire. I was loving every second of it. For years, people like him had made my life a living hell. Right now, I didn't know what was right or wrong, and I didn't care. This felt good. This felt like justice.

He let out an incoherent scream of pure rage and charged at me like a bull, head down, aiming to tackle me through the lockers. "I'M GOING TO FUCKING KILL YOU, YOU MOTHERFUCKING BASTARD!"

But I could see it all in slow motion now. His movements were clumsy, predictable. My new [Boxing Proficiency] skill wasn't just knowledge; it was instinct.

I sidestepped his clumsy tackle, letting him crash into the lockers himself. As he stumbled back, disoriented, I moved in. My fists were a blur.

Jab, jab, cross. Left hook to the body, right uppercut to the chin. A five-punch combo followed so fast he couldn't even raise his hands to block.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten.

Ten precise, brutal punches landed squarely on his face and body. He didn't even have time to grunt. His eyes rolled back into his head, and he collapsed onto the floor, completely and utterly unconscious. This time, he wasn't getting back up.

The hallway was dead silent. If it was quiet before, it was a tomb now. Everyone was awestruck, their faces frozen in expressions of pure shock, as if they'd just been struck by lightning. Stacy stood there, speechless, looking from my battered, bloody, smiling face to her boyfriend's motionless form.

I walked over to her, my body screaming in protest with every step. I stopped right in front of her, looked her straight in her glossy emerald eyes, my own gaze filled with a confidence that was entirely new to me.

"Think about it again, Stacy," I said softly. "Do you want a man who can't protect you? Or do you want a living alpha?"

Without waiting for an answer, I turned and walked away, pushing through the stunned crowd. I had to get out of there. My adrenaline was gone, and my body was already past its limit.

I ended up in a public park a few blocks from the high school, where I collapsed onto a hard wooden bench. The world was spinning. Every muscle felt like it had been torn to shreds. I closed my eyes, ready to pass out.

But the system wasn't done with me. Bastard system.

Ding.

"You haven't completed the daily mission."

"Daily Mission: [100 Push-ups] [100 Pull-ups] [100 Crunches] [50 Squats] [Run 20 km]"

"Penalty: 440-volt electrocution."

I groaned. I was so tired I could barely breathe, let alone move. But the system's "punishment" is total torture. A jolt of electricity that made every nerve feel like it was on fire. The thought of that pain was sharper than my current exhaustion.

Exercising until I dropped was definitely the lesser of two evils.

With a sigh that seemed to carry the weight of the entire world, I rolled off the bench and onto the damp grass. My arms shook as I got into a push-up position. After 2 hours of hard work, I completed the mission. I am once again ready lie down on floor. Just after lying down, my eyes closed automatically.