With Rork and his Bruisers actively avoiding me in fear of further public humiliation, my primary source of distraction shifted to the minor, ambient bullies—the jealous E-Rank and D-Rank students who still viewed my success in the Reward Matrix as an insult to their natural talent. They were too cowardly to engage in outright physical violence, preferring petty sabotage and public embarrassment.
This provided the perfect low-stakes environment to practice The Controller's principle of Zero-Effort Neutralization—using superior intellect and resources to solve problems without deploying visible power.
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The most persistent offender was a smug E-Rank named Joss, who repeatedly tried to sabotage my logistics work, often targeting my Clear Brew business.
One afternoon, Joss found my latest batch of Apex Brew—a large crate of perfectly bottled liquor ready for distribution—hidden beneath a tarp near the main loading dock. He sneered and used his foot to deliberately tip the crate. The bottles—thousands of credits worth of profit—began to slide.
Joss expected me to panic, revealing the emotional flaw that could justify his future pranks.
I did not panic. I simply enacted the Trivial Solution.
My Hyper-Focus calculated the precise angle of the crate, the velocity of the sliding bottles, and the necessary counter-force. I didn't use a Kinetic Pulse or my Density Manipulation—that would be visible.
Instead, I swiftly knelt down, placing my palm near the lowest corner of the crate. I channeled the smallest, most controlled burst of energy into the dirt and dust on the loading dock beneath the crate. This energy caused the particles to instantaneously compress, creating a temporary, minuscule wedge beneath the crate's lowest edge.
The sliding crate hit the invisible wedge, its motion perfectly arrested. The bottles stopped sliding instantly, settling back into their slots without a sound.
Joss stared, bewildered. He saw nothing but a quick, lucky reaction from a clumsy F-Rank.
"Whoops," I mumbled, offering a perfectly awkward, self-effacing smile. "Almost dropped those. Clumsy me."
Joss, unable to comprehend the failure of his sabotage, simply sputtered and walked away, convinced I possessed the unending, inexplicable luck of the truly talentless.
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Another persistent issue involved disrupting my mission submissions. A group of jealous E-Ranks had figured out that if they overloaded the antiquated Mission Submission Terminal at a specific time, it would crash, forcing me to resubmit my high volume of pest control logs—a grueling, time-consuming process.
They saw this as a way to sabotage my relentless grind. I saw it as a predictable systemic flaw to be exploited.
I didn't try to stop them from crashing the terminal. That would require active defense and lead to questions. Instead, I adapted my submission process.
I approached Unit 77, my logistics contact, presenting the situation not as a problem, but as a solution.
"Sir," I explained, maintaining my humble persona, "those kids keep crashing the main terminal. It's creating a big backlog for your system. I've developed a small, local file structure on a side terminal—one you don't use. I can input my mission data there throughout the day, and then, after hours, I can transfer the batch to your primary server when the load is low. It will keep my data clean and reduce stress on your terminal."
Unit 77—overjoyed at the prospect of free, efficient administrative help that kept his main system running smoothly—immediately granted me Level 2.5 Access to the remote terminal.
The bullies continued to crash the main terminal daily, delighted with their perceived success. But their efforts were now trivial. My mission logs were safely being input into the side server, guaranteeing my Reward Matrix payout while simultaneously granting me unmonitored access to a crucial piece of the Clan's network infrastructure.
The bullies were not adversaries; they were unwitting catalysts for my infiltration. Every petty offense was used to justify a major, invisible step up the ladder. The Controller remained entirely hidden, using clever schemes to ensure every single challenge—no matter how trivial—only served to strengthen my position.