Chapter 53: The surprise

Jelo woke up slowly, his consciousness clawing its way back through layers of darkness and confusion. His head throbbed with a dull, persistent ache, and his face felt swollen where the punch had connected. For a moment, he couldn’t remember where he was or what had happened.

Then awareness came flooding back, along with the realization that something was very wrong.

He tried to move his arms and found them completely immobilized. His eyes snapped open, and he discovered he was tied to a pillar—thick ropes wrapped around his torso and arms, binding him securely to the vertical support structure. His feet were still on the ground, but his upper body was completely restrained, leaving him unable to defend himself or escape.

As his vision cleared and adjusted to the bright lights, Jelo took in his surroundings with growing understanding and a strange sense of dark anticipation.

He was on a stage—an actual raised platform at the front of what appeared to be one of the academy’s larger assembly halls. The hall itself was packed with students, row upon row of Class 1 first-years filling the seats, their faces showing various expressions of confusion, fear, excitement, and morbid curiosity.

Standing on the stage with him were multiple Class 2 students. Jelo recognized several of them immediately—Xino was there front and center, his posture confident and commanding, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. Garin stood slightly behind him, his arm still in a sling from their previous encounter, his expression a mixture of satisfaction and vindictiveness. There were others too, maybe six or seven Class 2 boys in total, all of them looking at Jelo with varying degrees of hostility and amusement.

At the entrance to the hall, Jelo could see two more Class 2 students stationed like guards, their arms crossed, their presence clearly meant to prevent anyone from leaving. This wasn’t optional attendance. The Class 1 students were being forced to watch whatever was about to happen.

Jelo’s mind worked quickly, processing the situation. He’d been brought here to be made an example of, to be punished publicly in front of the other first-years. It was a display of dominance, a reminder of the hierarchy, a lesson in what happened when lower-ranked students dared to challenge those above them.

The idea of being tied to a pillar like this, helpless and exposed in front of the entire first-year class, would ordinarily terrify any Class 1 student. Especially a supposed rank F like himself. The humiliation alone would be crushing, and whatever physical punishment they had planned would be worse.

But Jelo found himself smiling.

Not a nervous smile or a forced one—a genuine expression of dark anticipation. Because he wasn’t seeing this as a punishment or a humiliation. He was seeing it as an opportunity.

These Class 2 students thought they were about to beat him down, to make an example of him, to crush whatever rebellious spirit he’d shown. But what they were actually doing was giving him multiple opponents, all in one place, all ready to fight. Each one represented ESS, experience, potential level-ups. Each one was a quest waiting to be completed.

The system’s influence burned in his chest, that familiar obsessive drive toward revenge and violence pushing away any fear or concern he might otherwise have felt.

So despite being tied to a pillar, despite being surrounded by enemies, despite the crowd of witnesses, Jelo smiled.

Xino noticed immediately. His eyes locked onto Jelo’s face, and the smirk on his own features twisted into something darker—annoyance mixed with confusion.

Why was this rank F nobody smiling? Didn’t he understand what was about to happen to him?

Xino stepped forward to address the crowd, his voice projecting clearly through the hall. “Class 1 students,” he began, his tone carrying false formality. “The surprise we have for you today is an act of discipline. A demonstration of what happens when someone forgets their place in the hierarchy of this academy.”

He gestured dramatically toward Jelo. “This student has been meddling with Class 2 students. He’s been picking fights, causing trouble, challenging those who are clearly above him in skill and rank. We’ve given him chances—multiple chances—to back off, to leave us alone, to accept his position. But he refused.”

Murmurs rippled through the crowd of first-years. Some looked shocked, others looked sympathetic toward Jelo, and more than a few looked relieved that they weren’t the ones tied to that pillar.

Jelo barely heard Xino’s speech. His eyes were scanning the crowd, searching for familiar faces. He spotted Ken sitting near the middle section, his expression worried and angry. He saw Mira off to one side, her face unreadable but her posture tense.

But he didn’t see Atlas.

Jelo’s eyes continued scanning, searching more frantically now. Atlas should be here—all the Class 1 students were here, forced to attend this “surprise” event. Where was he?

A feeling of panic rippled through Jelo’s chest, cutting through the system’s obsessive drive for violence. His smile faded, replaced by genuine concern and fear.

If Atlas wasn’t here, where was he? Had something happened to him too? Had the Class 2 students done something worse to Atlas than just tying him to a pillar?

The absence was wrong. Deeply wrong. And suddenly, this didn’t feel like an opportunity anymore—it felt like a trap with consequences he hadn’t anticipated.

Xino saw Jelo’s smile fade and mistook the reason entirely. A look of satisfaction crossed his face, as if he’d finally gotten through to the defiant first-year.

“Ah,” Xino said, his voice carrying mock sympathy. “I see you’re finally understanding the gravity of your situation. Good. That fear you’re feeling? That’s appropriate. That’s what you should have felt before you decided to challenge students who are so far above your level.”

He turned back to address the crowd again. “Now, since this student seems to think he’s so strong—since he’s been fighting Class 2 students and somehow managing to not die immediately—we’re going to give him what he apparently wants.”

Xino’s smile widened, becoming cruel. “We’re going to give him a chance to fight us. One on one, back to back. Let’s see how long he lasts when he’s not catching people by surprise or running away after cheap shots.”

The crowd’s murmuring grew louder. This was more than just a beating—this was going to be a systematic dismantling, a prolonged humiliation designed to break not just Jelo’s body but his spirit.

Xino turned and pointed to one of the Class 2 students standing behind him. “Liam,” he called out. “You’re up first.”

A tall, gangly boy with bright yellow hair stepped forward. Liam had an unusual build—his limbs were long and thin, almost disproportionate to his torso, giving him an awkward, uncoordinated appearance. But Jelo could see the confidence in his movements, the casual way he carried himself that suggested his appearance was deceptive.

Liam approached the pillar where Jelo was tied, cracking his knuckles in an exaggerated display. His face wore an expression of bored indifference, as if this was just another tedious chore he had to complete before he could get on with his day.

“Nothing personal, first-year,” Liam said, his voice surprisingly deep for his thin frame. “But you really should have known better than to mess with us.”

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