The five newcomers stood near the water fountain at the edge of the walkaway, their presence silent against the murmurs still lingering in the air.
The sky had turned almost black, storm clouds swirling above Crestwood High. The rain wasn't a drizzle anymore—it pounded against the ground in an unrelenting torrent, sending streams of water down the pavement and splattering against the fountain's stone surface.
Jordan, standing at the center of the group, ran a hand through his neatly trimmed hair, feeling the water clinging to his fingers. A cool breeze swept through the hallway, carrying the sharp scent of wet concrete and the distant rumble of thunder.
"Guess we got what we wanted," he muttered, his tone void of emotion.
Theo, leaning against the fountain with his arms crossed, gave a satisfied hum. "Hmph..."
Beyond them, the downpour showed no signs of easing. The rhythmic hammering of rain against the school grounds only added to the weight of the moment. The once-distant thunder rumbled closer.
Jordan exhaled, glancing at the storm overhead. "We should get going as well."
As they moved, the atmosphere felt heavier—not just because of the fight that had unfolded, but because of the weather that mirrored the tension left behind. The hallways buzzed with conversation, the aftermath of Lucian Steele's words still fresh.
As they passed a group of first-years, they overheard hushed whispers.
"Is this what we're going to witness here?" one of them asked, his voice tinged with unease.
Further down the hallway, a group of seniors stood near the lockers, their voices louder but no less tense.
"Tch... The moment he stepped into this school, we were doomed," one of them muttered bitterly.
Another student, a girl with glasses, shook her head. "Don't take it like that. Can't you see? He stopped the fight and warned them."
"That's what I'm talking about," the first guy snapped. "He's taking control like he owns the place. Can't we at least have a normal school life? With guys like them around...?"
The voice trailed off as the speaker locked eyes with the five newcomers.
Jordan didn't react. Neither did the others. The guy's irritated look wasn't directed at them—but at the figures standing behind them.
Eight of them.
Tall. Strong. A presence so sharp it cut through the air like a blade. They weren't a gang, but they carried themselves like one. The kind of group that turned heads without needing to say a word.
The patter of rain grew heavier against the school windows, drumming relentlessly against the glass. The downpour blurred the outside view, streaking down in uneven trails as the storm raged on.
Jordan recognized the group—the ones Lucian's smirk had been meant for. His gaze flicked between them, absorbing the unspoken tension. Then, two figures stepped forward.
One—tall, broad-shouldered, with dark hair flowing naturally over his sharp features. His stance was calm, but his presence was imposing.
The other—blond, slightly leaner, but carrying an effortless confidence. A silver ring glinted on his finger, paired with high-end sneakers that looked pristine despite the wet pavement outside.
The tall one spoke first. "Marcus."
For a moment, the five newcomers froze. How did he know—?
Then, realization hit. His gaze wasn't even on them. He was speaking to someone behind them.
The same Marcus who had been badmouthing Daniel Carter just moments ago.
Theo smirked at the realization.
A sudden gust of wind carried a fine mist of rain into the hallway, making a few students shiver. The blond guy gave Theo a brief glance before looking straight ahead.
The tall one continued, his voice firm but indifferent.
"You've seen it before, and you'll see it again. He doesn't want to bring fights to school. The guys coming here using his name? They have nothing to do with him."
His words hung in the air, weighted by the distant roll of thunder.
"What do you want him to do?" he continued. "Beat down every idiot who mutters his name? It's out of his hands. If you're that concerned, maybe it's on us—seniors—to step up when things like this happen."
The blond guy scoffed. "He literally stopped second-years and third-years from using his name and fighting here."
Marcus, the one who had been speaking against Daniel, sneered. "I'm not a crew like you guys. How about you stop this from happening instead? I'm here to study."
A third guy, quieter but with a sharper presence, stepped in. His voice was steady, cutting through the rainfall outside. "You know he's here to study too. Everything else is out of his control. Why do you think he ranked first last year?"
Silence.
The five newcomers tensed.
Daniel Carter—first rank?
A streak of lightning flashed across the sky, illuminating the rain as it poured steadily beyond the windows.
Marcus clicked his tongue. "Who knows? Maybe he threatened people not to write answers."
The blond guy scoffed. "Are you serious? He ranked fifth in midterms before that. If you can't accept it, that's on you."
Marcus scratched his temple, clearly uninterested in arguing further. The bell rang, its chime slightly muffled by the rain hitting the rooftop.
Students scattered toward their classrooms, their movements quickening as the downpour grew heavier. But for the five newcomers—this moment lingered.
Because something felt off.
They had assumed these guys were Daniel's crew. They moved like a unit, spoke as if they had history—but something was missing.
Daniel wasn't here.
If this was his group, why wasn't he standing among them?
Jordan's eyes narrowed slightly. Daniel Carter wasn't with them.
And that fact alone made them more curious than ever.
They would have to get to these guys.
And they would find out exactly who Daniel Carter was.
The group of five dispersed, their footsteps vanishing into the crowd as the rain continued to fall.
Jordan, Theo, and Riley found themselves in Class 1-A, the section known for its academic excellence. From what they had gathered, this was the very same class Daniel Carter had belonged to the previous year. The weight of that fact sat in the back of their minds. Meanwhile, Liam had been placed in Class 1-B, and Marcus had ended up in Class 1-D.
Unlike 1-A, the other divisions didn't follow a clear-cut system. They weren't purely academics-focused, nor did they revolve around external skills. Yet, some students from those sections were known for their prowess in sports, extracurriculars, or even their sheer influence. It was becoming clear that Crestwood High had a hierarchy beyond just grades.
The first day of classes had begun, filled mostly with introductions and course overviews. Teachers droned on about expectations, their voices blending into a dull rhythm. While there were short intervals, there had been no formal break yet—the faculty seemed more concerned with setting the tone for the semester.
Jordan sat near the back, his sharp gaze sweeping across the room, scanning the faces around him.
Among them was the leader of the Black Armband group—the one who had stood at the center of the morning's confrontation. The armband was gone, but the way he carried himself hadn't changed. He sat lazily in his seat, one arm draped over the backrest, exuding an air of indifference. The way he occasionally tapped his fingers against the desk made it seem like even this simple introduction phase was beneath him.
Jordan wasn't surprised.
What did catch his interest, however, were the Red Armband members scattered around the room. A few of them stole quick glances toward their former rival, their expressions unreadable. None dared to engage him directly. The tension from earlier still lingered, though now it was subdued—boiling beneath the surface, waiting for the right moment to spill over.
A sudden laugh cut through the classroom's quiet hum. Jordan turned slightly to see a girl with short auburn hair, sitting near the front of the class, nudging her friend playfully.
"Don't tell me you're already zoning out," she teased, tilting her head toward a blonde girl beside her.
"I was trying to take notes!" the other girl protested, flipping through the neatly written pages of her notebook.
The auburn-haired girl smirked, whispering just loud enough for the nearby students to hear. "Sure, sure. Taking notes on the teacher's life story is totally going to help you later."
A few students chuckled, lightening the mood for a moment. But it was short-lived.
Theo nudged Jordan lightly. "Looks like break times are different for each class," he muttered, nodding toward the clock.
Jordan frowned. Class 1-A had been given a break at a different time than the other sections. That meant they wouldn't be able to meet up with Marcus and Liam.
It was an odd decision, but Crestwood's system wasn't something they could question just yet.
On their way back from the washroom, Jordan muttered, "I'm hoping that guys doesn't do something stupid."
Riley nodded in agreement, while Theo, more relaxed, said, "Don't worry about it, they know what to do and where—" But he cut himself short.
The three of them slowed down as they reached their classroom. A group of students stood inside, their presence commanding attention. At the center was the sharp-eyed guy from the hallway, the one who had defended Daniel earlier. He stood with an effortless confidence, his gaze sweeping over the room. Class 2-A students—second-years. They had likely come to share advice, but more than that, their presence alone stirred excitement in the class.
A breeze swept in from the hallway, carrying the faint scent of rain. Though it had let up slightly, the windows bore streaks of water, a lingering reminder of the morning's downpour.
The classroom, filled with quiet anticipation, watched as the sharp-eyed student took a step forward.
"Hello, I'm Zachary," he said, his voice firm but easygoing. "You can call me Zach."
His name, Zachary, felt like an ill fit. But Zach? That suited him perfectly, as if he had discarded a name that no longer served him.
He continued, "We're here to pass on some useful information—things we wish we had known when we were in your place. If you have any questions, feel free to ask."
Before Zach could say anything more, someone in the class blurted out, "Any study tips?"
The room tensed. That was painful to hear on the first day. A question like that, asked so eagerly, only reinforced the idea that Class 1-A was full of students obsessed with academics.
A girl standing next to Zach chuckled. "You're joking, right?" she said with amusement. "You shouldn't even be worrying about studying. If you got into Class 1-A, it means you're already ahead. Even if you open a book the night before, you'll still score better than 90% of students."
She smiled before adding, "That doesn't mean you should slack off, though. Just listening in class and a little review before exams should be enough."
Another second-year girl crossed her arms. "But if you're aiming for the top rank," she warned, "that's a different game. You can't afford to miss a single topic. You'll also have to hope you get the question right that someone else doesn't. Our school throws in a few unexpected questions to test our skill. One of those could either push you up or drop you down."
A girl raised her hand hesitantly. "So... who got the first rank last year?"
Jordan, Theo, and Riley didn't react—they already knew the answer.
But the second-years fell silent for a brief moment. A girl from the group finally spoke. "Daniel."
The name landed like a heavy weight in the room. Some students exchanged glances, whispering in disbelief.
"He's not here," she added, chuckling. "He said he didn't want to waste time and wanted to sit in for the lecture instead."
The room grew even quieter. Daniel Carter? First rank?
It didn't match the image most had built of him.
Zach leaned in slightly and whispered something to the girl before stepping forward again. "I know what some of you are thinking. You've probably heard a lot of things and have your own impression of Daniel. But really... he's just distant. That's all there is to it."
The second-years resumed their discussions, but Jordan's mind lingered elsewhere.
At that moment, he realized something—Zach and Daniel were in the same class. That was probably why Zach had spoken up for him in the hallway. It made sense now.
"If I want to understand Daniel," Jordan thought, "Zach is the first person I need to talk to."
*Lunchtime*
The cafeteria was already crowded by the time they walked in. The usual buzz of voices filled the space, mixed with the faint sound of rain from outside. It wasn't loud enough to drown the noise, but it was always there—a constant backdrop.
Trays in hand, the five scanned the room, not for a place to sit, but for Zach.
Instead, they spotted Daniel.
He was sitting at the far end of a table, Lucian across from him.
Neither of them spoke much. Whatever words they exchanged were so quiet, so fleeting, that they might as well have never spoken at all. Their presence felt different—not isolated, not exactly unapproachable, but set apart in a way that wasn't forced. The students sitting beside them had left just enough space to notice, a slight gap, like an unspoken rule that no one had to enforce.
The five didn't linger on the sight for long. They found a table and sat down.
Then Zach walked in.
Seven others with him.
They weren't completely silent, but they weren't exactly lively either. Small conversations passed between them—neither serious nor casual, just words.
But his face said everything.
He wasn't frustrated. Not tired in a way that came from lack of sleep, but something deeper—something like exhaustion, the kind that settles in without anyone realizing.
The five had planned to approach him, but now, they weren't sure. This wasn't the Zach from the classroom.
Zach and his group settled at a table. There were already three girls there. It didn't feel like an intrusion—there was a familiarity in how they sat, in how their presence was accepted without question.
The blond guys among them spoke. His tone was neither light nor heavy, neither close nor distant. His words came and went, something between making conversation and saying nothing at all.
Then, Daniel and Lucian stood up.
Their trays were empty. Neither seemed in a rush, nor were they moving slow—they just got up, ready to leave.
At that moment, Zach's group glanced over.
It was brief—just a few seconds. Like a passing thought, like something they had done before. Like they were waiting for something. Or maybe not.
Then they looked away.
The five ate in silence. No one said anything, but they all knew.
They still had to talk to Zach.
Jordan set his spoon down, his plate nearly empty. He spoke in a quiet voice, barely above a murmur.
"We'll have to see him in the evening."
Outside, the rain continued.
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BEHIND THE CHAPTER
Crestwood High had its fair share of students who ranked among the best, enough to keep its name in high regard. But when the results came in, one name stood out—Daniel Carter.
For the freshmen, the name meant something entirely different. The leader of Black Legion. A fighter. Not someone they expected at the top of an academic ranking. Was this really the same Daniel Carter?