Chapter 13

Avenging A Friend

The morning sun streamed through the window of Adom's room at Xerkes Academy, bathing the space in a warm, golden light. As he slowly opened his eyes, the first thing that came into focus was the familiar blue box of the system, floating in his vision. His HP had increased by +1, a small but reassuring sign that his body was recovering from the traumatic experience of the previous night. It was a subtle reminder of the system's influence on his life, intertwining with the very fabric of his existence.

Adom lay there for a moment, his hand instinctively reaching up to touch his neck, the site of last night's fatal blow. There was no pain, no physical reminder of the injury that had claimed his life, albeit temporarily. The thought of how close he had come to death sent a shiver down his spine. The realization that he had been resurrected by the mysterious powers of the system was both a comfort and a disquieting truth.

He glanced at the clock. It was thirty minutes before the start of his classes. He hadn't kept track of his course schedule since his illness and subsequent leave of absence. With a stretch and a yawn, he swung his legs out of bed and reached for the small book that lay on his bedside table.

The book was more than just a planner; it was a collection of his thoughts, dreams, and aspirations, a chronicle of his younger self's ambitions. Flipping through its pages, Adom couldn't help but chuckle at the innocence and naivety of his 13-year-old self. The dreams penned down in a youthful scrawl spoke of grand adventures, heroic deeds, and a life of significance. Yet, the reality of his past life had been far different – a life of academia and research, with a modest reputation as a brilliant professor.

Adom closed the book, his thoughts turning to the present. The ambitions of his youth seemed distant now, overshadowed by the singular goal that consumed his current existence: to protect his loved ones. The future he had once foreseen was fraught with danger and loss, and he was determined to change that course, to shield those he cared about from the tragedies that lay ahead.

The sound of the shower water hitting the tiled floor was a rhythmic and soothing melody to Adom's ears. It washed away the remnants of his unsettling experience from the previous night, leaving him feeling refreshed and clear-headed. Dressed and ready for the day, he grabbed a granola bar from his stash of snacks, a quick but energizing breakfast to kickstart his morning.

With his bag slung over his shoulder, Adom made his way to his first class of the day – Magic Physics. The subject was one he was intimately familiar with, having amassed enough knowledge in his past life to teach at a prestigious academy like Xerkes. He navigated the familiar halls of the academy with a sense of purpose, his mind already buzzing with the concepts and theories of the magical world that he was about to delve into.

As he approached the classroom, a familiar figure caught his eye. It was Sam, his good friend, who was just about to step into the room. A smile broke out on Adom's face, and he couldn't help but call out, "Sam!"

Sam whirled around, surprise etched on his face, which quickly transformed into joy. "Adom! Finally, you're back!" he exclaimed, closing the distance between them with a few quick strides. "Dude, what took you so long? And leaving the school just a week before the Magic Physics exam?"

Adom laughed, a light-hearted and carefree sound that seemed to fill the hallway. "Oh, is it this week? That's cool. It'll be alright," he replied, his tone breezy and confident.

Sam looked at him, disbelief and concern mingling in his expression. "Why do you look so laid back? That exam is 30% of our final score, Adom!"

Adom shrugged nonchalantly, "It's easy, Sam. Don't worry about it."

Sam's eyes narrowed, studying Adom's face for a moment before his gaze drifted down. He did a double take, noticing the subtle changes in Adom's physique. "Wait, have you... gained some weight?"

Adom realized that the academy hadn't made his recovery public to the students yet. He paused, weighing his words. "I'll tell you all about it after class," he said, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

As they entered the classroom, the buzz of conversation and the rustling of papers filled the air. Adom scanned the room, noting the familiar faces of his classmates, some deep in study, others chatting animatedly. The atmosphere was a blend of pre-exam tension and the typical vibrancy of a classroom at Xerkes.

Taking their seats, Adom and Sam exchanged a knowing look. There was much to catch up on, and Adom could sense Sam's curiosity bubbling just beneath the surface. But for now, the focus was on the class and the imminent exam.

As the professor began the lecture, Adom felt a sense of ease wash over him. The concepts and theories being discussed were ones he had explored in depth in his past life. He found himself nodding along, the information resonating with his own experiences and knowledge.

The class passed in a blur of magical equations, theoretical discussions, and practical demonstrations. Adom participated actively, his responses and insights drawing nods of approval from the professor and curious glances from his classmates.

When the class finally ended, Sam turned to Adom, his eyes filled with questions. "Alright, spill it. What's going on with you, Adom? You're different."

The excitement and camaraderie between Adom and Sam were abruptly disrupted by an all too familiar presence. Antor, a known bully and a friend of Damus, strode up to them with a swagger that reeked of arrogance. Without warning, he slapped Sam on the back of the head, sending his glasses flying across the room. His laughter echoed through the hall, filled with cruelty and mockery. "See? I told you his glasses weren't glued to his face! Hahaha!"

Adom watched the scene unfold, a knot forming in his stomach. Sam, instead of standing up for himself, lowered his gaze, offering a submissive smile. He even joined in the laughter, albeit awkwardly, trying to brush off the humiliation. "Haha, Antor, that was a good one, really... the glued glasses and all..."

Adom's gaze hardened as he watched his friend being treated like a plaything for Antor's amusement. It brought back memories, dark shadows from their past. During their school years, Adom had been somewhat insulated from such bullying due to his illness. The bullies, though cruel, had been wary of pushing him too far. But Sam, without such a shield, had borne the brunt of their torment year after year.

Adom recalled the countless times Sam had been ridiculed, physically harassed, and emotionally tormented. He remembered the moments when Sam had to hide his tears, put on a brave face, and laugh along with his tormentors. It was a coping mechanism, a way to survive in a world where he was constantly targeted for being different, for being the 'nerdy' one.

The memories of their fourth year as junior sorcerers came flooding back with a painful clarity. Antor, along with another bully named Troy, had crossed a line that should never have been crossed. They had published images of Sam in a state of utter humiliation and vulnerability – naked, beaten up, lying in his own urine, and crying. It was an act of cruelty so severe that it had broken something inside Sam.

Adom remembered the aftermath of that incident, the way Sam had become withdrawn, the light in his eyes dimming day by day. And then, the unthinkable had happened. Sam, unable to bear the weight of his suffering any longer, had taken his own life.

The memory of that day was etched in Adom's mind, a scar that never fully healed. He had lost his friend, his confidant, to the senseless cruelty of schoolyard bullies. It was a loss that had haunted him, a reminder of the darkest aspects of human nature.

The tension in the classroom was palpable as Adom quietly rose from his seat, his movements deliberate and silent. Ignoring the taunts from Antor and his group, he walked steadily toward where Sam's glasses had fallen. Antor's voice cut through the air, dripping with condescension. "Oi, shrimp, who gave you permission to walk?"

Adom remained silent, his focus unbroken, even as Clegan, one of Antor's lackeys, jeered at him. "Let him, Antor. He's so skinny he's probably too hungry to know what he's doing." Laughter erupted from the group, a chorus of cruelty that filled the room.

Then, without warning, another of the bullies hurled a pack of milk at Adom, drenching his clothes. The laughter grew louder, echoing off the walls, a cacophony of mockery and disdain. But Adom's expression didn't change. He continued his steady walk, his mind a whirlwind of emotions, but none directed at his tormentors.

In those moments, his mind was consumed not by anger at Antor or his minions, but by a deep, seething rage at himself. Memories flooded back, painful and accusatory. He remembered the countless times he had turned to Sam with his own troubles, blind to the suffering of his friend. Sam, always the listener, always the shoulder to lean on, had endured his own battles in silence, overshadowed by Adom's own perceived struggles.

Adom's fists clenched at the realization of his own selfishness. He had been so wrapped up in his own world that he failed to see the pain in Sam's eyes. He recalled a particular conversation where Sam had opened up about his own suffering, only for Adom to steer the conversation back to himself. It was that self-centeredness that had driven a wedge between them, causing Sam to withdraw and ultimately sever their connection.

Picking up Sam's glasses, Adom turned back to face his friend, each step heavy with the weight of his guilt and newfound resolve. The bullies' mocking voices continued to fill the air, but they seemed distant, inconsequential. "Oh, would you look at that! He's getting his bitch's glasses for him. Ain't that adorable?" Antor taunted.

Sam, seeing the determined look on Adom's face, whispered nervously, "It's okay, Adom. Don't do anything. It'll pass."

Adom reached Sam and gently placed the glasses back on his nose. He looked into his friend's eyes, a mix of rage and calmness etched on his face. He grasped Sam's shoulders firmly, his voice low but filled with sincerity and regret. "Sam, truly, I am sorry. I am sorry for everything, for all you had to go through. And you're right, this will pass. And it will never happen again."

Sam's eyes widened, a flicker of confusion and surprise passing through them. This was not the Adom he knew. The Adom before him was different - more aware, more present. There was a fierceness in his gaze, a resolve that seemed unshakeable.

The tension in the classroom thickened like a tangible fog as Adom walked towards Antor, his steps measured and resolute. Antor's face twisted into a snarl of anger at Adom's audacity. "Hey, shrimp. What makes you think you can look at me like this?" he barked, his voice laced with fury and disbelief.

Adom, however, remained silent, his focus unwavering. The whole class watched in stunned silence, the atmosphere heavy with anticipation and dread. Whispers and bets circulated among Antor's friends, none believing that the frail boy who had always been easy prey could pose any threat to their leader.

As Adom closed the distance, the system's familiar blue box appeared before him, floating in his vision. [New quest! Beat the assailants! [0/5] Upon Success: Level knowledge. Upon Failure: -5 Strength. Time Remaining: 10 min], it read. The message only steeled Adom's resolve further. His voice, calm yet filled with a chilling rage and malice, broke the silence. "Clench your jaw, kid. I'm gonna feed you your teeth."

Antor's fury boiled over at the challenge, his face contorting with rage. "You little shit, did you just call me a kid?! You think being fucking ill will save your ass? I'm gonna kill you this time!" he roared, lunging forward with a raised fist, aiming a heavy blow at Adom.

But Adom, enhanced by his training and the system's gifts, saw the fight in a different light. He remembered Trojer's lessons in boxing, the emphasis on watching for openings and capitalizing on opponents' mistakes. Antor, in his blind rage, had committed a classic error – one that left him dangerously exposed.

In a display of controlled strength and graceful violence, Adom struck. His punch was swift and precise, a perfect execution of technique and power. His fist connected with Antor's jaw, the impact resonating with a sickening crack that echoed through the classroom. It was a sound that made several students flinch, a brutal testament to Adom's newfound strength.

The force of the punch was so tremendous that it lifted Antor off his feet, sending him crashing to the ground. A stunned silence fell over the classroom, every eye fixed on the scene. Antor lay motionless, a look of shock frozen on his face, a clear imprint of Adom's knuckles visible on his jaw. And then in a glacial calm, Adom then looked at the other bullies, and in a malicious yet contained voice, casually said. "Next."