Chapter 4

SAMIEN'S POV

How quickly time flies. It was still almost unbelievable that I had already spent

a whole month at the Wolfs Academy.

One whole month since leaving home, since leaving the suffocating walls of my

father's house and the constant judgment of my father's cold eyes.

A strange mix of anxiety and anticipation settled over me. I missed my sister, of

course. She was the one who had helped me get here, the one who had risked

everything for me.

A sinister grin curled at my lips as the thought ran through my mind. I chuckled

softly, letting my body sprawl across the bed behind me.

A loud yawn escaped, and I closed my eyes briefly, letting the exhaustion wash

over me.Exhausted was a small word for how I felt.

Yes, it had been a month already, but this month had been the most grueling,

most exhausting month of my entire life. The training sessions were merciless.

Every day felt like a battle----physically, mentally, and emotionally. I barely had

time to rest, and yet, no matter how much my body ached, no matter how often

my muscles screamed for relief, I loved every second of it. It thrilled me,

exhilarated me, made me feel alive.

I sat upright, stretching my limbs slowly, ready to shed my training clothes and

sink into the temporary comfort of my dorm. But then, a thought struck me, and

I froze. The door. I had forgotten to lock the door.

My body swerved toward the door, and I quickly bolted it before letting out a

small sigh of relief. Only then did I finally remove my training clothes, folding

them neatly to the side.

My mind, however, refused to stay calm. Mark.

Mark, with his piercing eyes, the kind that seemed to see through me no matter

how well I hid myself.

All through class today, he had stared at me. Not casually, not like a passing

glance----but intensely, almost as if he were searching for something hidden

beneath my facade.

It unnerved me.

He was right about one thing----I was hiding something, and no matter what, I

could not let him or anyone else discover it. My life, my plans, everything

depended on this secret remaining buried.

I rolled my eyes, trying to push the thoughts away. Mark was persistent, and

annoyingly so. He had continued to provoke me in class, teasing me despite myvery clear warnings that I didn't like it. I could only hope that someday he would

tire of it.

My stomach rumbled suddenly, cutting through the heavy silence of my room. I

had skipped breakfast entirely, too focused on training and avoiding attention. I

groaned softly and rose to my feet. It was time to get food----cafeteria, quick

and simple.

I dressed quickly, carefully arranging my guise to perfection. My steps were

light but deliberate as I left my room. The long hall stretched before me, empty

and quiet. Not a soul in sight. I smiled faintly.

I liked it like this. Peaceful. No one to watch me, no one to judge me, no one to

tease me. Popularity was a strange thing.

I had acquired it since arriving at the academy, much faster than I had

expected, but it came with its own burdens. The whispers, the stares, the

constant curiosity----it was exhausting.

Minutes later, I returned to my room, carrying a tray of food. The cafeteria was

nearly empty at this time, which suited me perfectly.

Halfway back, a thought hit me like a slap across the face. I had completely

forgotten to check the sparring list for tomorrow.

My lips pressed into a thin line as I muttered under my breath, dragging my feet

back toward the notice board. "I only hope this man doesn't try playing games

with me..."

The notice board was large, hanging prominently near the main hall. My eyes

scanned it quickly, moving down the list of names one by one.

Every sparring match, every opponent----my stomach began to tighten as I

approached the bottom.

There it was.My name.

And next to it... Mark's.

"Damn it!" I cursed aloud, letting my hands clench into fists. I could feel the

blood pounding in my ears.

I should have known. Of course he would do this. How in the world could he pair

me against Mark, knowing full well how we didn't get along?

I exhaled sharply, frustrated, heart thumping furiously against my chest. It was

clear now that Trainer Dane had orchestrated this deliberately.

Over the last month, he had done nothing but make my life more

difficult----snapping at me, criticizing every mistake, pushing me into endless

rounds of sparring, and now... this.

Mark. The strongest boy in the academy. My rival. My tormentor. My constant

challenge.

I took a deep breath, letting the air fill my lungs. I needed to stay calm. I

couldn't let fear or anger control me. But my hands still trembled slightly as I

balled them into fists.

A sudden voice broke the silence.

"Hey!"

I jumped so violently my tray wobbled, nearly spilling my food. My eyes widened

as I whipped my head toward the sound, heart hammering in my chest.

Mark! He stood there, leaning casually against the wall, a sinister grin curling on

his lips. My face hardened instantly, my displeasure obvious. The air around me

seemed to thicken, every beat of my heart pounding against my chest."I see you're preparing for tomorrow, Roberts," he said, voice smooth but

cutting.

I narrowed my eyes, pressing my lips together in a tight line. "Yes. And how is

that a problem?" I crossed my arms firmly across my chest, holding my gaze

steady.

"Well..." He let out a slow, mocking chuckle. "It doesn't really matter, because

there's no way you can ever win against me."

My eyebrows shot up, a mixture of irritation and disbelief flashing across my

features. "Really? Such confidence... and such pride."

"Yes," he replied smugly, brushing imaginary dust off his sleeve. "A well--earned

pride. All you need to do is prepare to get beaten."

He winked at me and sauntered off, whispering something under his breath that

I couldn't quite catch.

I stood frozen for a few seconds, letting the frustration simmer. How dare he?

Oozing that much confidence, walking around like he already owned tomorrow.

Damn him.

With a frustrated groan, I turned and retreated back to my room, shutting the

door with a heavy thud. For several long minutes, I did nothing but toss and turn

on my bed, my mind spinning with worry.

This wasn't going to be easy. Mark didn't like me. He never had. I could feel it

every time we sparred, every time our eyes met.

He was fast, efficient, ruthless, and absolutely merciless. I wasn't sure I could

match him in any way. His strength, his agility, his precision... it was all far

beyond what I had trained for so far.

Frustration boiled over, and I shot to my feet, pacing the room. I had to find a

way to bring him down tomorrow. I had to.There was no other choice. I couldn't allow him to humiliate me in front of the

entire academy. Not again.

I stared at the walls, my mind racing through every technique, every move I

had learned, trying to imagine a way to turn the fight in my favor.

Punches, dodges, feints, footwork----I reviewed it all, memorizing each possibility

like a lifeline. And yet... nothing seemed enough.

By the time dawn broke, I hadn't slept. My eyes were heavy, dark circles etched

underneath them, but my determination had not wavered. I rolled out of bed,

my body aching from lack of rest and yesterday's intense training, and stood in

front of the mirror.

This was it. Today. The day I would go up against Mark. My heart thumped

violently in my chest as I studied myself in the reflection.

My hands shook slightly, but I clenched them into fists, reminding myself that

fear could not rule me. I had faith in myself----and faith was the most important

weapon I had.

I dressed quickly, ensuring my attire was perfect and my disguise flawless.

Every fold of my clothes in place, every detail meticulously arranged.

I took a deep breath and pushed open the door, stepping out into the long hall

of the academy.

The training ground was already buzzing with energy. The entire academy had

gathered, students murmuring excitedly among themselves.

A few of the instructors, as well as members of the management staff, had also

come to witness the sparring. I could feel their eyes on me, assessing, judging,

anticipating.

My palms were damp, my heart a relentless drum in my chest. I drew a long

breath, steadying myself, trying to focus on the task ahead rather than the size

of the crowd or the weight of the challenge.Mark appeared seconds later, walking with that same wry smile, that dangerous

glint in his eyes. My gaze locked onto him, my jaw tightening instinctively.

He seemed different today, subtly different, but I couldn't quite tell why.

Something about him unsettled me, just a little.

Instructor Dane rose from his seat, stepping between Mark and me. His eyes

swept from me to Mark, then rested back on me with that cold, calculating stare

that always made my blood run hotter.

"Today," he announced loudly, voice cutting through the murmurs, "we'll be

assessing our students and their performance over the last month."

Cheers and applause erupted from the crowd, their excitement palpable. My

stomach twisted nervously.

"Our first set," Dane continued, his voice booming, "is Mark, our very own star

student, and he'll be going up against Roberts, the new student."

I froze. New student? It had been a month. A whole month. Yet he still refused to

call me by my name, still insisted on belittling me in front of everyone. My

frustration flared, but I forced myself to remain silent.

Mark's voice cut through my thoughts, smooth and teasing. "You look worried,

Roberts. Scared you're going to lose to me?"

I glared at him, clenching my fists at my sides. "Oh, just shut the hell up and let's

get this over with," I spat, my voice tight with irritation.

He chuckled darkly, a dangerous glint in his eyes. Before I could react further,

he lunged forward with the first punch. I barely managed to dodge, my reflexes

stretched to their limits.

Another punch came immediately after, and I blocked it just in time, the force

rattling my arms. The blows kept coming in quick succession, relentless andprecise. I found myself retreating, my every instinct on high alert, my body

straining to keep up.

"What's the problem, Roberts?" he sneered, a sinister grin spreading across his

face. "Why do you keep playing defense like some woman?"

Anger surged within me. My body tensed, and I launched a fist forward with all

the force I could muster. My punch landed squarely on his shoulder. He barely

flinched.

"Is that all you've got for your anger?" he mocked, taunting me mercilessly. His

fists were already flying again, rapid and precise, two of them landing on my

jaw before I could react.

I staggered backward, off balance, the sting of the blows radiating through my

body. Pain shot through me, sharp and relentless, and I stumbled to the ground.

Loud groans escaped my lips as I struggled to rise, my hands clutching at the

floor for support.

Every muscle ached, my vision blurred slightly, and my head spun from the

impact. The force of his strikes left me dizzy and disoriented, as though the

ground itself had been pulled from beneath me.

It all happened so fast. I barely felt the time pass, barely had a chance to

comprehend the blows before I was lying there, weak and dazed. It felt unreal,

like a nightmare I couldn't wake up from.