London, the heart of the United Kingdom, pulses with life. The air is thick with the aroma of street food, and laughter fills the bustling streets. Towering skyscrapers loom over luxury shops, while neon billboards flicker like stars in the twilight. Young people gather in groups, their joy echoing off the concrete, creating a paradise that hides its darker secrets beneath the surface.

Amidst this lively city, a boy arrives—Rayan Turner. A name destined for greatness, he didn’t come to London just to study; he came to conquer. With every step, the weight of ambition presses against him. He seeks power, believing it is his birthright.

Recently, he moved into a small apartment in Shoreditch, living alone and free from the constraints of family. As a transferred student at Evergreen High School, he faces a new world. The students there wear black jackets and pants with crisp white shirts, while the girls sport black skirts and white blouses. The sprawling school grounds are surrounded by a yard, complete with soccer and basketball courts, but what captures Rayan’s attention is the graffiti plastered across the walls—vivid declarations of rebellion that resonate with his ambitions.

“Children, today we welcome our new student. Please come in,” the teacher announces with a smile.

Rayan strides into the classroom, his presence commanding attention. He scans the room with a mix of curiosity and disdain, taking in the unremarkable faces before him. A boy with dark blue hair walks to the front, sunlight illuminating his piercing blue eyes.

“I’m Rayan Turner. Nice to meet you all,” he states, bowing slightly, though inside, he scoffs at their weakness.

“Nice to meet you too, Turner! Can you share a bit about yourself?” a classmate asks eagerly.

“Aaaaah, I moved to London recently and live alone,” he replies, forcing a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Okay, please take a seat near the window,” the teacher gestures, and Rayan settles in, surveying the class.

Inner Monologue: Actually, there were more words I wanted to say, but why bother? I am Rayan Turner, the boy destined to reach the sky, the strongest of the strong. I hunt for power, believing it serves no purpose to protect the weak. That’s my ultimate rule, the rule of the jungle: the strongest survives.

As the lesson begins, Rayan’s eyes drift across the classroom. In his view, there’s no one strong among them—just nerds and wannabe tough guys who couldn’t throw a decent punch. The girls? Some are pretty, but he has no time for distractions like romance. His thoughts echo with a singular mantra: strength, strength, strength—power, power.

Nevertheless, Rayan finds himself bored. The teacher drones on, but the whole class feels uninspiring. Yet, there are vacant seats nearby. Who knows? Perhaps someone of interest lurks in the shadows, waiting to make an entrance.

----------------------------------------

A whole week has passed since Turner came to Evergreen High School. Unfortunately, nobody has piqued his interest. But perhaps it’s because he hasn’t even tried to find someone worth his punches.

Monday arrives, and Rayan prepares for another day of disappointment. However, as he enters the classroom, he notices something unusual—three new faces.

The first is a boy with brown hair styled in a mohawk. His deep brown eyes glint with confidence, and he sports an earring on his left ear, along with a necklace featuring a dragon-like design. He wears the school uniform but pairs it with expensive shoes that stand out.

Next to him is a guy who looks like a cheap copy—same outfit and jewelry, but with short black hair. Rayan barely registers him before his gaze shifts to the girl taking the empty seat beside him.

Until a week ago, that spot had been unoccupied, but now it’s filled by a striking girl. Her sapphire eyes and long azure eyelashes catch the light, while her black hair, streaked with blue and blonde, dances in the breeze from the window. She radiates a presence that momentarily disarms Rayan.

I dare say I blushed briefly.

“Shut up, I didn’t blush,” he mutters, shaking off the feeling. He tries to avoid this nonsense called romance, pushing his interest aside.

As the day drags on, they move to math class. Rayan stares out the window, unable to grasp the concepts being taught. The bell rings, signaling the break, but something unexpected occurs.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

The mohawk boy strides over to the girl next to Rayan, his confidence evident as he calls out, “Hello, pretty lady!”

She glances at him, her expression indifferent. “Get lost, loser. You’re the last man I would date.”

“BE CAREFUL HOW YOU TALK TO THE BOSS, BITCH!” the cheap copy shouts, adding fuel to the fire.

Rayan can’t hold back his laughter. “HAHAHAHAHAHAH!! You guys… you are fucking hopeless! HAHAHAHAHAHAH!!”

“HUH?? Who the fuck are you?? Wanna die??”

“Oh! I’m scared,” he replies, sarcasm dripping from his words.

“The boss asked you something, you BASTARD!”

“Oh yeah, right. I’m Rayan Turner. Nice to meet you.”

“So, Rayan Turner, are you ready to die?”

“Nah.”

The expected happens: the mohawk boy swings a punch at Rayan, but the amateur doesn’t stand a chance. Before his fist can connect, he’s knocked out instantly, leaving the class in stunned silence.

“Ugh… just another garbage who thinks he’s strong. Get lost, fucking weakling.”

However, the cheap copy isn’t done. He tries to sneak up on Rayan from behind, but Rayan senses him. In his mind, the scenario was like that: he takes the punch (because there is no room for him to react) and then easily beats the crap out of him.

Yet that doesn’t happen. The reason is simple: the cheap copy is already knocked out. The answer to this mystery? A boy with striking silver hair, styled long on top and shaved on the sides, strides into the scene. Sunlight ignites his cardinal eyes, and his earrings sparkle.

The silver-haired boy turns to the girl. “Nellie! Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, just leave,” she replies, her voice steady.

At that moment, Rayan finally finds someone interesting in this school.

“Maaaan! You are strong. I’m Rayan, nice to meet you!” he exclaims.

The silver-haired guy glances at him, a smirk forming. “The same goes to you… I’m Ethan from class 1-A. Nice to meet you too.”

“Your kicks are interesting,” Rayan notes.

“Yeah, but it’s not even close to yours.”

Turner pauses, his mood shifting. “So, you saw it !!”

“Yes, I did. That was really fast. And also, why would someone like you use this speed kick on this guy?”

“I just hate people who think they’re strong but can’t even throw a straight punch.”

“Interesting… By the way, this is Nellie.”

“Shut up!” she interjects.

“I guess it’s nice to meet you too, Nellie.”

“You’re impressive,” she replies, her gaze lingering on Turner.

Inner Monologue: He’s a natural talent. Liam might like him.

“Anyway, I’ll talk to you some other time. Bye!” Ethan says before leaving the classroom.

The school day ends, and Turner can’t wait to head home. He usually takes a shortcut through the narrow streets, but today something feels different. The girl from his class, Nellie, is walking ahead of him.

Inner Monologue: “Nellie??”

She’s just a little ahead, and it makes sense that she’d take the same route home.

Everything seems fine until this. A group of people emerges from the shadows. At first, he thinks they might be her friends, but then he recognizes a familiar face—the mohawk guy, flanked by his cheap copy and a crowd of twenty others.

Nellie is backed against the wall, surrounded. The mohawk boy sneers, “Well, well, pretty lady. Let’s see if you change your mind.”

All of them wear the Evergreen school uniform, making it clear they’re from the same school as Rayan. This is an opportunity for Rayan to kill some time.

“Phwwwwwhht,” he blows, and the mohawk boy turns to face him, rolling his eyes.

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it? A few hours ago?”

“You bastard,” he snarls, recalling the humiliation.

“Hey, nutty, I’ll give you two options: First, you leave. Second, you get beaten by me.”

“Hahahahaha! Are you suicidal? Don’t you see we’re more?”

“It doesn’t matter if there’s one weakling or more.”

“YOU BASTARD!! Beat the shit out of him!”

And just like that, twenty guys move to surround Rayan, ready to attack.

“HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!”

Pause

10 minutes later:

Rayan stands in the midst of fallen bodies. Twenty guys lie scattered around him like discarded puppets, unable to move. He gazes at the cerulean sky, saying calmly, “You, all of you are just some frails who waste my time. How pathetic.”

Suddenly, he feels a gaze on him, sharp as a blade. He turns to find Hanade watching him, her expression unreadable.

“Why? Why did you help me?” she finally asks.

“Because I thought it would be fun.”

“You’re crazy,” she mutters, shaking her head.

“Yeah, I know,” he shrugs. “Just like you, trying to survive in this twisted game called life.”

“Don’t act like you’re a hero.”

“Don’t worry. I’m not,” he chuckles.

“Well… thanks,” she offers, a hint of warmth in her voice.

“Okay, see you later.” With that, he strides away, leaving Nellie contemplating the encounter as the sun begins to set behind the towering skyline.