Ryden was a little surprised.
Mostly, he was pleased.
Howard really was capable. He'd settled everything that quickly. As expected of a legendary figure from WWII-era America.
Starting yesterday, Howard had already gone to file for patent protection, using Ryden's name.
He would never dream of stealing someone else's work. Scientists had their pride.
Even the arc reactor he'd developed with Anton Vanko listed both their names. He hadn't monopolized that either.
Using his connections, the patent review moved at lightning speed.
What would normally take over a year was finished in less than a day.
Howard really was something else.
Then, using the invention patent to pull some strings with old colleagues at MIT, Ryden's admission was easily arranged.
They didn't care about legendary transcripts.
As long as his hands-on ability was strong, theory could follow.
It was the same logic as fixing a car.
If you didn't believe it, let a chef try to repair one.
He'd have you for dinner before you realized the terror of a five-star chef.
From start to finish, Ryden had only provided the AK-47 blueprints and leaned on his cheap father's connections.
The actual legwork took very little time.
He tore open the envelope.
Inside lay a gold-embossed acceptance letter.
Quiet.
Formal.
Real.
The letter stated that due to his outstanding talent in weapon design and the successful development of the AK-47, he had been specially admitted.
All he needed to do was report in September.
And, of course, bring his wallet.
Acceptance didn't mean free tuition.
In this era, being admitted to a top-tier American school like MIT was a staggering achievement.
Only those who did something extraordinary received treatment like this.
Even Tony Stark, despite his father's influence, had built his own engine at six and continued making breakthroughs to enter MIT at seventeen.
Ryden was two full years ahead of him.
Enough to overshadow him completely.
"Oh! Thank you, Principal, for the good news," Ryden replied calmly.
In truth, this wasn't difficult.
It was just a matter of time.
To his classmates, though, it was explosive.
This guy who was constantly causing explosions had blown his way straight into a shining future.
MIT.
The most prestigious institute in the country.
Bar none.
And at such a young age.
At the very least, he was guaranteed a high-paying white-collar future.
The girls' eyes lit up instantly.
This so-called shut-in classmate suddenly didn't look so bad.
They swarmed around him, eager to build rapport.
If one of them became his girlfriend, it would be like hitching a ride on a rising star.
"Hey, Ryden, are you free tonight? My family's having a little party. Want to come?"
"Ryden, could you help me study tonight? I really admire you."
"Ryden, let's have lunch together."
"Ryden..."
They crowded in.
For a moment, the MIT-bound Ryden became premium cheese everyone wanted a bite of.
Some were pretty.
Some were average.
That was reality.
When you're at the bottom, no one sympathizes.
When you can stand at the peak, everyone wants to talk.
Standing on the podium, Dia fell silent.
She genuinely didn't know what to say.
She had just joked about marrying whoever earned a doctorate.
And in the next moment, Ryden was accepted into MIT.
You didn't need a PhD to see how far he'd go.
The fact that the principal personally delivered the letter made everything unquestionable.
Watching Ryden surrounded by girls, Rocca's frustration burned hotter and hotter.
He wanted this show-off dead.
That honor should have been his.
He should be the one surrounded by girls.
Not this loser.
Some people were just like that.
They had no talent of their own and couldn't stand seeing it in others.
They wanted everyone to be mediocre.
And if someone rose even slightly above that, they wanted them gone.
Nearby, his lackey Bunter noticed Rocca's dark expression and leaned in with a malicious grin.
"Boss, this guy's too arrogant. Too flashy. We need to teach him a lesson."
"What if we get someone to break his hands? Let's see him do experiments after that. Hehe."
As the local bully of Central High, Rocca wasn't afraid of some kid.
"Good. After school, we'll go find the Dasco gang."
"Let's ruin him."
"Yes, sir!" Bunter answered eagerly, his servile nature on full display.
He shot Ryden-still surrounded by girls-a cruel, rat-like glare.
Heh.
Blame yourself for showing off.
No backing, yet you want to play the hero?
Then go die.
Despite the attention and the way he was treated like royalty, Ryden wasn't excited.
Instead, he caught Rocca's dark expression.
A sharp sense of malice.
He didn't know if it was instinct or something else, but Ryden trusted his gut.
Especially when it came to Rocca.
That guy wasn't clean.
He'd been involved in multiple nasty incidents and would've been expelled-or worse-if not for his father being a Colonel.
It took a while to escape the girls.
Ryden quickly dragged Terrence off campus for lunch, not daring to stay in the cafeteria.
"Feels good being surrounded by all those babes, huh?" Terrence teased, winking.
"Heh. I'm a genius. I don't even look at them," Ryden said, straightening his clothes after they'd been thoroughly rumpled.
"Enough talk. Let's eat. Order whatever. It's on me."
"You got it!" Terrence grinned. "Yesterday you became a small business owner. Today, MIT. I'm telling you, you've got insane luck."
"Maybe getting blown up improves it?"
Ryden shot him a look.
"How about I get you some explosives later so you can try it yourself?"
The fact that he hadn't blown himself up already was pure luck.
If explosions really improved fortune, battlefields wouldn't have casualties.
They'd have millionaires.
"Hehe, I'm joking," Terrence said quickly.
Then his expression turned serious.
"But Ryden, be careful. I saw Rocca staring at you weird. That guy knows a lot of gang members outside."
"Watch out for trouble."
The joking stopped.
Terrence's voice was heavy.
He truly didn't want to see this fledgling eagle fall before it ever had the chance to soar.