Oakridge Academy — Next Morning
The bell didn't ring.
A siren did.
A long, mechanical wail that cut through sleep, through comfort, through illusion. Dorm lights flickered on. Students stumbled into corridors, confused, whispering, afraid.
By order. By force. By fear.
They gathered in the grand assembly hall—rows upon rows of uniforms, polished floors, banners of Oakridge hanging like commandments from the ceiling.
At the front stood **Lucien Crowe**.
Tall. Immaculate. Untouchable.
A man carved from authority.
Behind him: security officers, faculty members, and the school's governing board seated like silent judges.
A microphone waited.
Lucien stepped forward.
Silence fell so fast it felt physical.
"Students of Oakridge," he began, voice smooth as marble, "this institution was built on discipline, excellence, and respect for hierarchy."
His eyes moved slowly across the crowd.
"Recently, certain individuals have forgotten these principles."
Whispers rippled. Some students glanced around nervously. Others lowered their heads.
Lucien continued.
"Unauthorized access to restricted zones. Physical altercations. Violation of conduct protocols."
His gaze stopped.
Locked.
On Aarvin.
The crowd followed his sightline. Like a wave turning.
Aarvin stood near the center row, hands in pockets, expression unreadable. Adrien beside him. Riyan leaning casually, like he'd paid for front-row tickets to chaos. John stood half a step behind, tense.
Lucien lifted a tablet.
"By authority of the board, I hereby announce disciplinary action against the following students—"
He began reading names.
One by one.
Not just Aarvin's group.
But others too. Random. Innocent. Collateral.
A strategy.
Divide the crowd.
Make rebellion look contagious.
Make fear universal.
Murmurs turned to panic.
A girl started crying quietly.
A boy clenched his fists but said nothing.
Lucien let the noise build. Then raised his hand.
Instant silence again.
"Order," he said simply.
And the room obeyed.
**The Spark**
Aarvin stepped forward.
One step.
It echoed louder than the siren.
Every eye snapped toward him.
Lucien's expression didn't change. But his fingers tightened slightly on the tablet.
"You wish to speak, Mr. Aarvin?" Lucien asked, voice polite. Poisonous.
Aarvin's voice carried without a microphone.
"You're punishing students who did nothing wrong."
Lucien tilted his head.
"Wrong is defined by the institution."
Riyan laughed out loud.
Students gasped.
Faculty stiffened.
Security shifted.
Adrien leaned forward just enough to whisper,
"Ten seconds until they move."
John's breath shook.
Aarvin raised his chin.
"Then the institution is wrong."
**The Order**
Lucien's smile faded.
Not into anger.
Into something colder.
He raised two fingers slightly.
Security officers stepped forward from both sides of the hall. Quiet. Efficient. Prepared.
Lucien's voice dropped, calm and lethal.
"Remove them."
**The Break**
No one moved.
Not immediately.
Students watched. Waiting. Unsure.
Then a boy in the third row stepped aside—blocking a security officer's path.
Another student followed.
Then another.
A chain reaction.
Fear was cracking.
Riyan grinned.
Adrien's eyes lit up.
John stared in disbelief.
Aarvin didn't smile.
He just said quietly:
"Now."
**Chaos Returned**
Security surged.
Students shouted.
Faculty panicked.
Oakridge's perfect order shattered like glass.
And in the center of it all, Lucien Crowe stood perfectly still—watching the storm he had created rise against him.
Not surprised.
Not afraid.
Just calculating.
*To be continued…