Crushing the Arrogant Senior
I stared intently at the boy searching for me. Glancing at the number and color of the wooden branch pinned to his chest, I could tell he was a senior trainee, one cohort ahead of us.
"I'm Aleck," I replied with a sidelong glance. The boy pulled a dissatisfied grimace, curling his lip.
"Up close, you really do look like some damn parasitic wasp. Come with me."
The guy was utterly shameless. Telling a trainee fresh off training to follow him outside like that? There was no rudeness like pest rudeness.
"What's this about? And shouldn't you introduce yourself first if you're here looking for me?"
"Ha!" The boy shot me a look of utter disbelief, then bared his teeth in a snarl. "You see this and still don't know I'm your senior? Treating seniors like caterpillars, huh? Fine, you asked who I am? Name's Motenson."
Motenson gave me a smug now you know glare, as if that settled it. I nodded and replied.
"A senior, got it. But as you can see, I just finished training. Could you come back later?"
I met Motenson's eyes dead-on, enunciating every word clearly. He flinched, clearly caught off guard. He hadn't expected me to push back even after he pulled rank. And if you chewed on my words, they were polite on the surface but meant, I'm tired from training, so get lost and come back later.
Motenson caught on late, his face flushing red then pale in waves.
"You little shit... dare..."
He stormed toward me, fury twisting his features.
"Senior, you can't do this."
"And who the hell are you?"
Just then, Ruslan stepped up, blocking his path. Motenson flinched at the sight of Ruslan—a king mantis towering a full head above him. But he quickly rallied, not wanting to lose face in front of the underclassmen.
"You punks are unbelievable. This how you treat a senior? Hey, ever heard of the Overlord Club? I'm in it. You wanna see your training hall life turned upside down?"
Overlord Club? The familiar name piqued my interest. I knew it as one of the biggest clubs in Mantis Hall—an elite group for shield and king mantis clans only. And this moron was in it? Even for the rare king mantis clan, accepting trash like him made the club's prestige feel a notch lower.
"Overlord Club?"
"Why would they want Aleck?"
"Dude, getting on their bad side is a total no-go, I heard."
The other trainees buzzed around me. It was clearly infamous. Even Ruslan twitched at the name.
"Now you get who I am?"
Motenson fed off the vibe, swaggering again. He turned with a look that screamed, now you realize the huge mistake you made, right?
But Overlord Club or Emperor Club, to me it was just kids playing house.
So what?
I met his gaze with bored eyes, and a twitch started at the corner of his upturned mouth.
"You... looks like I need to teach you manners right here."
As Motenson shoved past Ruslan, Ruslan grabbed his arm again.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"I said you can't do this."
"You two in tandem...?"
Ruslan's steely gaze made Motenson grind his teeth audibly. If I let it go, they'd throw down for sure.
"Ruslan, it's fine. I'm good."
"But..."
I flashed Ruslan a faint smile without a word. He nodded and released Motenson's arm.
"Sorry."
"Tch, damn... you're shield clan, so I'll let it slide once."
Motenson glared at the mantis mark under Ruslan's ear, then closed in on me. He eyed me up and down, lips twisting in disdain.
"You really the one who caught that island ant captain solo?"
He was sizing up my slim build, thinking easy prey. The suspicion dripping from his question gave it away.
"Yeah, that's me."
"Alright then. Show me what you got."
Motenson's eyes gleamed like a spider eyeing lunch. Demanding a demo out of nowhere... his rudeness was starting to grate on me.
"Uh... shouldn't we stop this?"
The mood shifted; murmurs rose. Some looked ready to fetch an instructor.
"Come on, aren't you curious too? If he really took down the island ant captain alone. Just a light spar, that's all."
I let out a short laugh at Motenson's words. If he wanted it that bad.
"Sure, one light exchange then."
Motenson's lips stretched wide in a gotcha grin.
Wonder if he'd keep smiling in a bit.
"Those training weights, right? What kind of old-school instructor makes you train with those? Anyway, take 'em off. I'll wait."
"Nah, we'll go like this."
"...You cocky little..."
Motenson's eyes turned venomous. As he snorted and raised his hand, I dropped my upper body low and dove into his guard.
The speed was blinding lightning—even with the iron weights, no one here, Motenson least of all, saw it coming.
"...!"
Bent low in his reach, I caught his panicked eyes full-on. I clenched my fist and unleashed an uppercut straight for his jaw.
"Guhk...!"
A weird yelp escaped as Motenson's feet left the ground briefly. The punch packed enough to shatter bone.
Thud.
He flipped backward and sprawled flat. Too pathetic to call a match.
The trainees watching gasped in shock.
"For a king mantis, he's got a weak frame."
I clicked my tongue at the knocked-out Motenson, eyes rolled back. He couldn't even slip a basic strike? What gave this rookie the balls to mess with me? Strip away the king mantis label, and he was nothing.
"Holy shit."
"Iron weights and that movement?"
"Insane. Ripped the senior apart."
I ignored the awed chatter and headed out of the training ground. Starving now, and I wasted energy for nothing. After that humiliation, he'd never show his face here again. I wiped Motenson from my mind.
"Damn, damn, damn!"
In a pitch-black room, Motenson thrashed under his blanket, howling like a banshee.
In his head, the spar with Aleck replayed in slow motion.
'Nah, we'll go like this.'
Aleck had said it with that deadpan face. Motenson had thought the kid lost his mind.
But it was his fatal miscalculation. Aleck vanished from view in an instant, and agony exploded in his jaw—the worst pain of his life. The world went black.
When he came to, he was in the infirmary.
How the hell...?
The question faded as his peers filled him in.
'Tsk tsk, you got one-shot by that newbie Aleck.'
Too late, the truth hit: he'd been flattened in one hit.
No, that's not it!
He denied it inwardly. Anything to bear the shame and humiliation. Losing at full strength would've stung, but to a weighted opponent? Unreal.
So Motenson rejected the memory over and over.
Carelessness. Yeah, just careless...
He burned to rush Aleck now and avenge it—or die from the disgrace.
"If I get a proper rematch!"
He kicked off the blanket, yelling in a cracked voice, ready to bolt.
But chills hit him.
Aleck's indifferent eyes flashed in his mind—goosebumps everywhere.
Why am I... shaking?
Motenson shuddered, then dove back under the covers.
Ugh, not feeling great right now... yeah, once I'm recovered, I'll go back.
Shivering as he rationalized, he looked every bit the terrified coward.
The next day, every newbie warrior trainee packed the training ground, not a single absence.
"Alright, ready for real training?"
"Yes!"
The trainees chorused back at Norton's booming question. But he furrowed his brow—the response lacked punch compared to what he'd hoped.
"No breakfast? That's all the volume you got?"
"No, sir!"
"Still weak! Louder! Squeeze out every last drop like when you were nursing! Go!"
"Yes, sir—!"
"Good! That's your baseline volume from now on. Got it?"
"Yes—!"
Norton finally eased his scowl into a satisfied grin.
"Everyone loosen up yesterday? Real training starts today."
He produced a long, thin rod from somewhere and tapped the ground.
The trainees swallowed hard, staring at Norton's overwhelming aura.
"First, an announcement before we begin."
Norton swept his fierce gaze over them, lips curling.
"In one month, we'll hold an internal ranking tournament."
"Ranking tournament?"
"What's that?"
The trainees blinked in confusion at the curveball. Usually, there was a set manual.
Norton's schedule was... unique.
"Quiet! Chief Instructor isn't done. Questions after."
Silence fell like a guillotine.
"Ranking tournament tallies one month's training scores plus spar scores for final ranks. You'll all do basic training. Scores from that, plus the tournament at week's end, decide the order."
"Ooh, sounds fun?"
"Kinda intense though..."
Some lit up; others paled at the hell ahead. But even the worriers perked at Norton's next words.
"Remember what Chief Instructor said yesterday: effort earns fair reward. That's the principle that got me here. So, the top ranker gets a special prize from me."
He scanned their rapt faces.
"That's the announcement. Questions?"
A hand shot up instantly.
"Question, Instructor! Is the training gonna be super tough?"
Norton scowled darkly at the kid.
"That's a question? Skip it if it's tough?"
"N-no, sorry!"
The trainee shrank, cowering from the raging stag beetle vibe.
Deserved that.
I tsked at him and raised my hand.
"Trainee Aleck, what's your question?"
Norton spotted me and softened to a gentle tone—night and day from before.
"What's the top prize?"
"Great question! Clear goals spark fire. This is it."
Norton pulled a small wooden box from his robes and flipped it open.
My eyes sparkled at what lay inside.