Chapter 15: Morning Run with a Pretty Class girl

Godfrey’s eyes met Jon’s and, in an instant, it felt as though he were an ant staring up at an elephant. The sheer pressure the boy gave off by just standing there was overwhelming, an intimidating presence that bent the atmosphere itself.

No one dared meet Jon’s gaze directly. He was the kind of person who made people lower their eyes instinctively, as though looking at him too long was an offense.

Jon gave a soft nod at Isolde, his eyes sliding past Godfrey as if he didn’t exist, and then walked straight toward Snow with the Asian boy beside him.

"Care to talk?" Jon asked, his tone even but carrying an unshakable weight.

For the first time, Godfrey watched the proud Snow rise from his seat without his usual smirk, pride, or nonchalance. His face was serious.

"Where?" Snow asked.

"I’ll show you," Jon replied, turning on his heel without sparing anyone else a glance. Dale froze for a second, expecting the King would at least acknowledge him. But Jon didn’t even spare him a look.

The cafeteria buzzed. Everyone knew what Jon’s presence meant, it wasn’t just about the Nexus Club. This was about grooming. Everyone whispered that Snow might be chosen, groomed to become the next Manhattan King once he advanced into Junior year.

’That’s someone worthy of a King Tier. And yet, he isn’t even a Lord Tier... do you see the difference, Godfrey Daniels?’ Cecil thought, her eyes darting toward Godfrey. She caught his gaze, and he raised an eyebrow at her, puzzled at the look she gave him.

"That’s Manhattan’s King?" Godfrey asked Isolde, keeping his voice low.

She nodded twice. "He is. Quite strong, with a summon that gives him an incredible advantage. When he was just a sophomore, he hospitalized seventy percent of his classmates."

"What?" Godfrey’s eyes narrowed in disbelief.

"Forget about him, I’ve got a problem," Isolde said suddenly, catching his attention. Godfrey blinked, what could possibly be a "problem" for a sixteen-year-old Lord Tier summoner?

"I’ve been exercising at the school’s field every morning for a week now, and I do not like the way Dale stares at me. It’s best if you join me tomorrow morning. I need protection."

Her ridiculous excuse made Godfrey roll his eyes.

"And you need to exercise. Summoners with good physiques always have the edge. The way I see it, I’m helping you," she added with a sly smile.

Godfrey scoffed. "I thought you weren’t staying in the dormitories."

"Well, the headmaster couldn’t leave his precious student outside the academy grounds for too long, not with news of dungeons and Cain fanatics on the rise," Isolde replied smoothly. "C’mon, it’s a win-win. You can’t say no."

"I’ll be there. What time?"

"Four A.M."

Godfrey accepted, knowing full well it was just an excuse to have a training partner. Still, it would give him the chance to learn more about Lord Tier summoners. But her words lingered with him.

Two summoners had changed the world forever, not just cities or regions, the entire world.

The first was Adam, the very first summoner. His summon could clear a red gate in minutes, what took others weeks or months. Worse, it could split itself into many, clearing multiple dungeons at once. It rode the clouds, crushed mountains with its staff, mimicked other summons and wielded their innate and adaptive skills. It was a monster beyond monsters.

The second was Cain, a man from Patmos. Years after Adam vanished, Cain rose with a twisted desire to become God. When the dungeons first appeared, the world entered the Five Years of Great Despair. Two billion lives were lost. Cities crumbled. Continents bled as wastelands spread due to nuclear warheads.

Cain brought the second calamity – Blood March. He slaughtered millions who refused to kneel, building a fanatical army. Cities either bowed and worshiped him... or drowned in their own blood.

Like Adam, Cain was unstoppable. Even nuclear strikes couldn’t bring down his summon. For ten long years, he reigned as an untouchable tyrant until finally, the seven great cities united to defeat him, Manhattan among them.

Technically New Manhattan, since the original was destroyed a century ago.

***

The next morning, when the fog still blanketed the campus field, Godfrey found Isolde waiting on a bench. She wore a gray hoodie, gray leggings, and white sneakers.

"Isolde," he called as he approached. She didn’t react.

He said her name again, a little louder. Still nothing.

Finally, walking right in front of her, he noticed the EarPods tucked in her ears.

Her eyes widened when she saw him so she removed them.

"What were you listening to?" Godfrey asked, crossing his arms.

"Shooting Star. Don’t you know her? She’s a famous old-time singer. I got to know about her from my mom."

She placed one EarPod into his left ear, and at once, the melody flowed into him. His eyes narrowed. The voice was captivating, soothing and melancholic at once.

While basking in the song, they began jogging together. Godfrey didn’t spot Dale, but he already knew the boy wouldn’t appear. He wasn’t a threat to Isolde.

When the song ended, it was as if the softer part of Isolde faded with it. Her expression sharpened.

"I want to see how strong you’ve grown," she said, suddenly picking up her pace.

Godfrey gritted his teeth and followed, pushing harder. He gained ground but never closed the gap. Isolde’s strides remained steady, her breathing light, while his speed tore at his lungs and made the fog vaporize against his skin.

For an hour he pushed himself to the edge, until finally he collapsed onto the grass, panting like a beast that had just outrun death.

Isolde stood above him, barely winded. A light sheen of sweat glistened on her forehead, but her breathing was even. In contrast, Godfrey’s shirt clung to him, soaked through with sweat.

Unfortunately, their first class that day was training, back on the same field. Godfrey’s thighs still screamed from earlier.

Had he known, he might have gone to the nurse. Isolde, Snow, and Dale led the front while Godfrey trailed behind the rest, his legs trembling so violently he nearly collapsed multiple times.

"Wow, just look at him," Siegfried mocked loudly.

"You should’ve stayed home, Godfrey."

"This is pitiful."

Their jeers didn’t stop even after everyone else had finished and collapsed onto the grass. Godfrey kept running.

"You can make it!" Dale shouted mockingly, drawing laughter from the group.

But Isolde didn’t laugh. She stood silently at the track’s edge, her eyes following him.

When Godfrey finally completed his laps, collapsing to his knees, she rushed forward with a bottle of water.

"Of course, he needs a woman to—"

"Shut it, Siegfried!" the instructor snapped, cutting him off. He turned to the others, his voice cold. "While he trained nonstop in the early hours of the morning, you all slept. Yet he still finished the task that left you sprawled on the ground like you’d achieved something. You’re the ones making a mockery of yourselves."

Dale’s face twisted, heat rushing to his cheeks. He had just been publicly shamed and worse, shamed because of Godfrey.

Because of trash.

Why hadn’t Godfrey said anything? Was his silence deliberate, to make fools out of them all?

Fury twisted inside him. With a roar, Dale slammed his fist into the ground, shattering it. His hand sank deep into the earth as dust and soil sprayed outward.

....

A/N: I hope you enjoy this novel. Support by adding to your library and giving a power stone or two. Thank you.

I will also appreciate a review to keep me motivated.