Chapter 6: Brethren

The loud crow of the giant desert cock woke the entire encampment to a new morning.Marlon leapt up from the bed, feeling more energized than he had ever felt in his two lives combined.

He cleaned up, put on new clothes, and walked outside.

Standing at the entrance of his tent, he inhaled the cool morning breeze and let the sun’s warmth bathe his face, a bright smile spreading across it.

"What is wrong with this masochist today?"

"He looks so happy. I feel so angry that he is this happy."

"Who is he going to trouble today?"

"I hope it ain’t me. With the anger in me right now, I would end up killing him!"

"Me too!"

"Let us look away before he makes us his target for today."

A few trainees standing outside their tents spoke in low tones when they spotted him. Others simply turned their heads away, disgusted by his presence.

Marlon, on the other hand, finished his brief sunbath and turned to the spectators with cheer.

He waved at them and roared, "Good morning, my neighbors!"

The trainees exchanged puzzled looks and glanced back at him, confused.

"Did someone bash his brain yesterday?"

"I think so, he has gone insane."

"Even better reason not to come in contact with him today."

But Marlon disregarded their comments and roared again, "Good morning, my neighbors!"

"Fuck you!" someone barked.

"Fuck you too, my neighbor!" he responded instantly.

The other trainees fell silent once more.

"Yup, he has really gone insane," they muttered among themselves, turning away.

"Why are they so shy today?" Marlon wondered aloud, but he quickly disregarded the concern with a sigh. He had something important to do today.

Marlon straightened his back, shoved his hands into his pocket, and strolled into the streets of the encampment with confident strides.

His steps were neither hurried nor heavy, but there was something in the way he walked that made heads turn and hearts uneasy.

Some students who were loitering quickly scurried back into their tents the moment they saw him approach.

Some simply halted their discussions and turned away.

They did this not because they feared Marlon’s strength, which he didn’t even possess, or so they thought.

They only avoided him because his insults were always sharp and painful.

He had once insulted a boy so much that the boy left the encampment and traveled out of the country.

Of course, Marlon was oblivious to their thoughts and simply continued toward his destination for the morning.

As he walked past a tent, Lyra suddenly stepped out, her usual frown etched on her face.

She wore blue fitted jeans that hugged her figure, paired with a short-sleeve white cropped hoodie.

A piece of gum shifted between her lips as she chewed lazily, adding a casual sharpness to her presence.

Though her outfit was simple, she looked stunning in it. Marlon couldn’t help but slow his pace, a smile tugging at his lips as he watched her.

Lyra’s eyes met his, her frown deepening in annoyance as she asked, "What are you looking at?"

"You," Marlon replied without hesitation.

"Stop looking at me and continue onward."

Saying that, she walked away without looking back.

Marlon stared at her back as she walked away, observing the sway of her hips.

"You would be mine very soon." He smirked and continued walking.

A few trainees in the area saw the interaction and were astonished.

Did the popular weirdo just speak with one of the beauties in the encampment? A Whitlock at that.

It was unbelievable.

===

Marlon arrived at the very field where he had received his life-changing beating the night before.

Now, the place buzzed like a beehive, alive with the presence of hundreds of trainees scattered across it.

Whether sparring, sprinting, training their bodies, or simply strolling in groups while chatting, every corner brimmed with activities.

The same group of boys who beat him up yesterday spotted him, and their mood dampened more than it already was.

They were formerly seven in number, but two had met their end last night, hence their sadness.

The remaining five of them strolled toward Marlon with ugly scowls on their faces.

Marlon spotted them approaching and quickly waved at them with a friendly smile. "Guys, you’re here? How was your night?"

They naturally disregarded his greeting.

How could they accept such words from someone who had insulted their entire generation last night? Impossible.

"You are here to seek a beating again, huh?" The one in the middle, bigger than the others and acting as the leader, asked.

"Brethren, beating is not a form of greeting," Marlon replied with a cheerful smile.

The five boys glared at him with ugly expressions.

"You’ve got a sharp tongue for someone who was beaten bloody yesterday."

Marlon tilted his head slightly. "Beaten bloody? That’s your own imagination. I simply enjoyed some exercise. Free training, courtesy of you all."

A few chuckles broke from the crowd gathering around, though they were quickly hushed. The five boys’ faces darkened even more.

"You really don’t value your life," one of them spat.

"If I didn’t value it, I wouldn’t be standing here talking with you," Marlon said calmly. "Don’t tell me you’re still angry about last night. You should learn to let things go."

The leader’s eyes twitched. "One more word from you and I’ll—"

Marlon lifted his hands in a surrendering pose. "I insulted you, you beat me up, that is fair, ain’t it? So let go of yesterday. Real men know how to forgive, especially after beating the offender in question. Right?"

The group of boys paid no heed to his comedic attempt to tone down the tension. They were about to rough him up when a gentle but firm voice halted them.

It was Selena Whitlock, adorning a black fitted turtleneck tucked neatly into high-waist tailored gray trousers.

Seeing her, the boys halted their movements and stepped away from Marlon with embarrassed expressions on their faces.

"Leave." In a cold, emotionless tone, she dismissed them, and they obeyed.

"Thank you, Ms. Selena." Marlon smiled at her once the boys had left. "You look just as radiant as the sun this morning."

His words were loud. The few trainees hanging around the area heard him, their eyes widening in shock.

Both Marlon and Selena were popular, one for being a weirdo and the other for being one of the most beautiful and talented ladies in the training camp.

The contrast between them was as evident as the one between night and day.

Yet, Marlon was boldly speaking to her as though they were equals.

They turned to Selena, awaiting her response. Would she beat the crap out of him or ignore him?

But it was the opposite.

"Thank you," she replied calmly.

The field went completely silent.

The Whitlock sisters were known for their coldness, especially Selena, yet she had spoken to Marlon, the most disgusting trainee.

Some trainees rubbed their eyes, thinking they were dreaming. Others exchanged glances, their disbelief painted clearly across their faces.

Selena, however, did not linger. She simply turned away, her long coat swaying gently as she walked off.

Marlon watched her back as she left, his smile fading into a quiet sigh as he turned his attention to the vast field.

"Time to grind!"

....

First Week Challenge:

Every 50 Powerstones Equal 3 Extra Chaps.

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