054 PAY ME TO SLAP THEM
Then, just as suddenly, the readings began to drop.
0.002%... 0.003%...
The numbers stabilized, fluctuating only within a narrow range. The display labeled it as ambient psychic interference—effectively negligible, indistinguishable from background noise.
Damen exhaled in relief. "Perfect. Practically invisible now."
Satisfied, he powered down the scanner and pocketed his phone. The cover worked flawlessly.
He straightened his jacket and headed down the hall. "Time to meet Lieutenant Kalmer," he said to himself. "I've got meta skills to upgrade."
----
Damen and Zairgid returned to Meta High School No. 2, unaware of the surprise awaiting them.
As they stepped into the main practice ground, they froze. Colorful banners stretched across the walls, and the biggest one read: "Welcome Home, Heroes!"
"Who's visiting today?" Damen asked, scanning the crowd for VIPs.
"Who cares—as long as it's a group of busty nurses," Zairgid muttered cheekily.
But as they walked down the red carpet, the applause swelled and Damen realized all eyes were on them. Even Principal Fayram Misk stood on stage, clapping proudly.
"Welcome home, Zairgid Aukuoma and Damen Dark—the heroes of Fortress Myrone!" the principal announced, signaling for them to come up.
Still puzzled, they complied. A clerk stepped forward, holding a tray with two medals gleaming under the lights.
Principal Misk placed one around Zairgid's neck, then the other around Damen's.
"What's this about?" Damen whispered.
Zairgid shrugged. "Maybe it's for the Mountain of Death mission. Guess surviving the trip makes us heroes now."
Before Damen could reply, a voice shouted from the crowd.
"Those two fools don't deserve it! We all went to the Space Rift expedition—why only them get medals?"
Zairgid looked down, his eyes narrowing. "That's Xylo Aukuoma. One of my bastard cousins."
Principal Misk frowned. "Xylo Aukuoma, the fortress officially recommended them. We don't hand out medals arbitrarily."
"How can a weak coward like my cousin be called a hero?" Xylo yelled, sneering. "He hides behind others—behind women!"
"Yeah, they don't deserve it!" someone else shouted.
"What about us? We fought too!" another added.
The crowd started murmuring angrily, the atmosphere souring fast.
Zairgid muttered, "This is a setup. That bastard and his cronies are trying to make us look bad."
He was right.
The Aukuoma clan had long been split between factions. Zairgid's father's side had risen in prestige after his son's achievements, but the rival branch wasn't happy—and Xylo was their mouthpiece.
"What do you want, Xylo?" Zairgid demanded.
"I want a fight," Xylo declared. "One-on-one. If you lose, it proves your medals are fake."
"Yeah!" the crowd roared. "Fight! Fight!"
Zairgid hesitated. Backing down now would stain his name—and his family's.
Damen stepped forward, his gaze cold. "Whoever wants to fight, step up. But be ready to end up like Lukas Veyran."
The crowd instantly fell silent.
"Wait—he's the one who crushed Lukas with a single move."
"Yeah… the prodigy with perfect middle school scores!"
As murmurs spread, Xylo snarled, "Then I'll challenge both of you!"
Damen smirked. "You? Want to fight me? You don't deserve it."
"See? He's just as cowardly as my cousin!" Xylo shouted. "His so-called victory over Lukas is just hype!"
Before the crowd could turn again, Damen cut him off. "You don't deserve a fight—unless…" He turned to Zairgid, lowering his voice. "Make him pay for it. Fifty-fifty split."
Zairgid's eyes gleamed in understanding. He raised his hand, flashing several Aur cards.
"One million Aurs," he declared. "If you can match that wager, we'll fight."
The crowd gasped.
Xylo froze, his face paling. He hadn't brought that kind of money to wager in a fight… he'd only come to humiliate his cousin.
"You're hiding behind the family's wealth, Zairgid!" he spat.
A hand landed on his shoulder suddenly. "Relax. It's just a million Aurs—I'll back you."
It was Freeland Veyran, Lukas's older brother. He tossed several cash cards toward Zairgid, smirking.
Zairgid caught them smoothly, then turned toward the stage.
"Hey! Why are you going up there?!" Xylo shouted.
"Because," Zairgid said, grinning, "your wager isn't with me—it's with Damen Dark."
The crowd roared as they cleared a space before the stage, forming a makeshift arena. Xylo stepped forward, his muscles tensed and his rage boiling.
Damen walked down slowly, his eyes locked on him. He pointed… and turned his thumb down. "You are weak."
The word echoed across the field.
"YOU'LL REGRET THAT!" Xylo screamed and charged…
…but before anyone could blink, his body was flung across the arena like a ragdoll.
A shocked silence followed.
"Where did he go?"
"Did he vanish?"
"No—look! He's over there!"
All eyes turned. Xylo lay crumpled hundreds of meters away, half-buried in the field's edge.
"The fight's over," Damen said flatly, brushing imaginary dust from his sleeve.
Then he turned toward the stage, grinning at Zairgid—and at the Aur cards in his friend's hand.
"No. This isn't over yet," Freeland Veyran bellowed from the crowd.
Damen glanced back. "Why you? You want to challenge me too?"
"I'm going to kill you," Freeland snarled.
Damen shrugged, bored. "Fine. Same stake—one million Aurs per person. Show me the money and I'll whack you. I can't resist people giving money to smack them."
Freeland's face went red, fury flaring.
Before he could answer, Prescott Aukuoma — a proper Aukuoma heir — stood and warned, "He's strong. You alone may not be enough."
"Don't worry, I have the strongest students in school backing me up", Freeland replied.
Freeland didn't come alone, he came with several of the school's top students. But he didn't bring enough money to put wager on all his goons.
"Remember no money no slap", Zairgid screamed from the stage laughing with Damen.
"Don't worry about money, I'll loan it to you", Prescott Aukuoma said.
"Thank you", Freeland accepted his help.
"Are you sure about this, buddy," Zairgid called Damen from the stage, but he was distracted, his fingers sliding over his phone now strapped to his hand with the new cover.
Damen, however, was checking something else — his mining app, quietly scanning the challengers' stats as they stood to face him.
A few more students rose, each holding a million Aur cash card.
"We'll challenge you," they said, voices full of bravado when Zairgid came down to collect their cards.
Damen laughed. "Just the few of you? Fine. Come at me all at once. Don't waste my time making me take you down one-by-one."
"They're the strongest in Meta High No. 2, don't underestimate them," someone muttered.
"Don't be too cocky. You're not invincible," one of the challengers warned Damen,
"If he wants to die so badly…" Freeland sneered, pointing directly at Damen. "It just so happens we have the perfect thing for him."
Damen raised an eyebrow. "What the hell are you talking about?"
Without warning, the challengers grouped together, their hands locking in a synchronized gesture.
A student on the sidelines leaned toward his friend, whispering, "Freeland and his gang are forming a group formation—channeling their metas."
Damen's gaze sharpened. "Group formation? What are they trying to pull?"
From the stage, Zairgid's voice rang out, sharp and urgent. "Watch out for those sneaky bastards! They're combining their metas into one powerful skill. The sum of their power could be greater than the whole. Get ready for a clash like no other."
Freeland and his gang were trained in a secret method, one they used to overwhelm even stronger opponents. By channeling their combined meta energy, they could summon a force greater than any of them alone.
And it was deadly.