It was the end of the dojo day, and most students were already making their way home.

  However, not everyone was leaving.

  Detention was in session.

  It wasn’t just Gadeon and Gage—there were fifteen students packed into the classroom. Boys and girls mixed together, though the majority were male. Most of them belonged to Gage’s group—the same ones who had helped him ambush Gadeon that morning on the way to school. The rest were students connected to Glace, the ones who had stepped in to defend Gadeon when things escalated.

  Among them was Sheriff, who had left the assembly earlier to go to the toilets.

  He looked unwell.

  Restless. Agitated.

  “C’mon Sheriff, think… there has to be something you can do to leave early,” the agitated boy mutters to himself.

  Sheriff couldn’t stay still—shifting in his seat, tapping his foot, glancing repeatedly at the door. His fingers fidgeted nonstop, as if his body was begging him to leave.

  It was clear to anyone watching—

  He didn’t want to be there.

  At the front desk—positioned perfectly to observe every student in the room—sat Judah, Head of Behavioural and Safeguarding. He was buried in paperwork, eyes down, fully immersed in whatever he was writing.

  How long is this detention? I don’t have time for this, Gadeon thinks.

  I’ve got somewhere to be.

  Shit… should I just walk out? Gage thinks as his leg bounces uncontrollably beneath the desk.

  Sheriff’s eyes darted nonstop, scanning the room again and again. Sweat coated his skin, dampening his uniform. He chewed aggressively on the strap of his mask, grinding it between his teeth as if that alone could keep him together.

  I messed up. I messed up.

  The thought looped endlessly in his mind.

  He turned his head—and his eyes met with Kurtiz, known as Glace’s right-hand man. The look he received in return was filled with disappointment.

  Sheriff’s chest tightened.

  Guilt crashed into him, followed by a cold chill that ran straight down his spine. He swallowed hard, forcing back tears. But it didn’t help—more students were staring now. He could feel it.

  He was sitting right at the front.

  Exposed.

  They’re going to kill me.

  I’ve been hiding all day. Avoiding them. How did I get caught?

  That was my last packet. My last one.

  Damn you, Mister Alfred… why couldn’t you have just minded your business?

  His chewing grew more frantic as panic flooded his thoughts.

  All I needed was one more. Just one more!

  Glace is going to be disappointed… they’ll think I stole the money.

  I can’t go home. They’ll kill me.

  His breathing grew shallow.

  I need protection. I need to stay here.

  Why couldn’t the parent pickup rule start today?

  Now I’ve got to survive all the way home.

  His jaw clenched.

  Why do I even have to think about this?

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  Sheriff slumped slightly in his seat, still muttering under his breath—his body trapped in detention, but his mind already running for its life.

  “Okay. There are going to be some rules for this detention,” Judah announced, his eyes still fixed on the paperwork in front of him.

  He continued, “I’ll be counting down the time until detention is over. When that time is up, you’re all dismissed.”

  A ripple of hope spread across the room.

  Students glanced at one another, whispering quietly.

  “He’s counting down?”

  “What does that even mean?”

  “Who cares? It might mean we won’t be here long.”

  “Yeah, Sir Judah looks really busy.”

  “Today’s our lucky day.”

  He’s seriously going to be counting down? Gadeon thinks.

  But how long is he counting for? Gage thinks. I really don’t have time for this.

  “However,” Judah adds calmly, “during the countdown, you are not allowed to do nothing.”

  The room stills.

  Confused looks spread across the students’ faces as they glance at one another, unsure of what he means.

  “Don’t look at each other,” Judah says without lifting his head. “Look at me.”

  He finally pauses his writing.

  “I’m working, aren’t I? I’m counting down your detention and supervising you at the same time. Isn’t that the way of our tribe—to adapt and be versatile?”

  The room remains silent.

  “So no, you’re not allowed to do nothing,” he continues. “I hate the concept of time being wasted. Even in detention, I know every single one of you has something you could be doing.”

  He looks up briefly, eyes scanning the room.

  “Homework you haven’t started. Revision from today’s lessons. Catching up on work you’re behind on. The dojo isn’t just a place to train your body—it’s a place to train your intellect and your mind.”

  He returns to his paperwork.

  “Heck,” he adds, “if you want to close your eyes and focus—run battle simulations in your head—that counts as doing something too.”

  A student raises his hand.

  “But sir,” he asks carefully, “you said we’re not allowed to do anything. So how can we sit quietly and focus on battle simulations in our minds? Wouldn’t that look like we’re doing nothing?”

  Judah doesn’t hesitate.

  “Don’t worry about that,” he says flatly. “I’ll be able to tell.”

  What?!

  Will detention finish early today?

  Panic spikes in Sheriff’s chest.

  If that happens, they’ll be after me.

  Shit. Shit.

  I can’t go home now.

  Maybe I should just stay in school? Camp here? Tell my parents I’m doing late-night study?

  No—no chance they’d allow that.

  “You’re allowed to work together on homework,” Judah continues, still calm, “or any kind of academic work you have. You can ask me questions if you need support.”

  Then—

  He stops writing.

  For the first time since detention began, Judah looks up.

  The room tightens.

  “But,” he says, voice steady, “if I feel the noise level getting too high—”

  He pauses.

  “I’ll restart the countdown.”

  A few students swallow.

  “If there’s any disruption,” he continues, eyes scanning the room, “I’ll restart the countdown. If anyone is caught doing nothing—”

  Another pause.

  “I’ll restart the countdown.”

  Sheriff’s eyes widen.

  Low whispers ripple through the room. Some students exchange relieved looks—easy rules. Others seem almost pleased, already planning to finish homework here so they won’t have to do it at home.

  “The countdown has already begun, by the way,” Judah adds casually.

  It’s already started?!

  Since when?!

  Is he seriously counting while doing all that paperwork? Kurtiz thinks to himself, confused.

  Immediately, students pull out books, tablets, and papers. Groups form quickly.

  A clear divide appears.

  On one side: Gage’s gang.

  On the other: the students wearing masks—several of them tied to Glace’s group.

  And right at the center of it all—

  The terrified boy sits frozen, trying to survive the clock.

  Gadeon didn’t join any group. He sat by himself, work laid out in front of him, pretending to focus while his mind drifted elsewhere.

  I might as well use this time to form strategies on how to be successful in this life.

  Now that I’m ten, this is actually an advantage. If I start now and lock in, I’ll be successful by fifteen—maybe eighteen at the latest.

  As he thought, Gadeon began sketching a spider diagram in his notebook, brainstorming paths and possibilities.

  On the other side of the room, Gage and his gang gathered around a table. From a distance, it looked like a normal group revision session—quiet whispers, heads close together—but in reality, they were passing folded notes beneath the table.

  The notes weren’t about schoolwork. They were about Gadeon—and the rest of Glace’s group.

  One note came back to Gage suggesting they deal with them. Gage shook his head and scribbled off the reply. This time, he had something urgent to do after detention. When one of them asked if it could wait, Gage shot them a stern look. No one questioned him again.

  Even if detention finishes early, I still have to deal with those goons, Gadeon thought. There’s no way they’ll miss the chance to come after me.

  His eyes drifted toward the students with masks hanging around their necks—some of them connected to Glace. Something felt off.

  Ever since the assembly, there’s been this awkward tension… even among Glace’s own people.

  Did something happen? Is it because of the drug?

  His gaze landed on one boy in particular.

  Kurtiz.

  I remember him. He’s the one who first told me about Glace—no, more like dragged me to him.

  Before I can even plan my life… I need to plan a safe exit from Gage and his goons or—

  “Countdown restarted.”

  Judah’s voice cut through the room.

  Every student froze, heads snapping up in shock.