The next day, while recess was in progress, an extra from 9C — Hyun, a skinny but fast kid, was tasked with delivering the message.
He walked through the crowded hallways to the 9D classroom, where the most dangerous guys in the school hung out. As soon as he entered, the mood grew heavy. Stares pierced him. At the back of the room, sitting cross-legged on a desk, the leader of 9D, Seokjin, the guy known for being cold and extremely violent, stared at Hyun.
"What do you want, bug?" Seokjin asked, with a crooked smile.
Hyun swallowed hard, but passed on the message.
"Damian sent word... that in three days there's going to be a war. 9B with A and C against you, who have D, E and F. Whoever wins, dominates the 9th grade. It will be in the abandoned building.
The room went silent. Then Seokjin laughed out loud, slamming his hand on his desk.
"Finally. I thought these bastards would spend the whole year hiding. Tell your boss that I accept. And he can prepare the coffin."
Hyun ran away before anyone decided to use him as a punching bag.
For the next two days, Damian and his friends went into full preparation mode.
On the first day, everyone gathered in the forest where they were already training, focusing on meditation, breathing control and mental strengthening. They spent hours in silence, sitting with their eyes closed, feeling the energy of the environment, controlling their own heartbeats, concentrating for the upcoming confrontation.
On the second day, everyone went to their own training: Damian, at home, practiced boxing, karate and taekwondo techniques alone, using improvised sandbags, chairs and even walls as targets. He was sweating profusely, focused as never before. Minho went to his father's dojo and spent the entire afternoon training jiu-jitsu, practicing takedowns, submissions and counterattacks. Another guy in the group went to a local gym, lifted weights until his arms were shaking, and then started practicing strikes with a wooden stick. Jisoo, excited as always, did pull-ups, push-ups and practiced kicks in every possible way, from spins to flying knees. The sound of the dry blows echoed in the alley where he trained. Everyone prepared as if their lives depended on it — because, in a way, they did. Damian, sweating, looking at his own reflection in the cracked mirror at home, thought out loud:
— Three days… and I'
ll master this shit.