From Bullets to Bullies

The tranquillity of Maro's home shattered moments after he had arrived.

A knock on the door reverberated through the house.

His father, still frail and weakened by illness, hobbled to answer, confusion etched on his features. 

The police stood at the door, their presence unsettling. Maro's father couldn't help but feel a pit drop in his stomach.

"Evening, sir," one of the officers began, his voice low and serious as Maro suddenly made an appearance from behind him. "We're here to talk about your son, Maro Dumont."

Mr Dumont stepped back, watching from the dimly lit entrance, his heart thudding against his chest. 

His face paled as he looked between the officers and his son.

"Is everything alright?" His father's voice wavered with a mixture of worry and fatigue.

The officer exchanged a glance with his partner, then explained, "Your son intervened in a mugging earlier this evening. He helped stop a dangerous criminal, one you may already be—"

"The same one who...?" his father interrupted, eyes widening as understanding dawned.

"Yes, sir. The same man responsible for your son's injuries a few days ago." The officer's tone was cautious. "We just wanted to make sure you're aware. He acted bravely, but his actions could have led to his death. Maybe teach him to leave this sort of thing to the adults?"

Maro's father stood there, torn between pride and resignation, his frail hand gripping the edge of the door for support. He glanced over at Maro, their eyes meeting briefly.

His voice cracked as he turned back to the officers. "Thank you, officers. I... I appreciate you letting me know. This won't happen again."

The officers tipped their hats and left the Dumont household steeped in uneasy silence. After the door closed, his father lingered for a moment, breathing heavily. 

He turned toward Maro, his gaze a swirl of conflicting emotions.

"I'm proud of you. Though I probably shouldn't be ," his father said, his voice weak but tinged with affection. He shuffled over and grabbed his son's shoulder gently. "Please, don't go around making this a habit, we barely made it through the first time. I can't be out there to protect you and hold your hand. Next time... use discernment."

Maro gave a small nod, weathered under his father's heavy glare. 

He was unable to bring himself to explain that this was just the beginning.

As his son walked up the steps to his room, Mr Dumont sighed in his chair. 

His eyes flittered over to a picture on the wall, tinging his mood with sadness and sorrow. "You'd have been much better at this than me. Ay, Lena?"

The next morning, sunlight filtered through the blinds of Maro's room, casting a warm glow on his face. 

He moved through his routine in a mechanical haze—buttoning up his school uniform, adjusting his tie, and stealing a glance at himself in the mirror.

His reflection stared back at him, familiar but frustratingly plain. 

His brown hair, wild and unkempt, hung over his forehead messily.

He had the potential for handsomeness, if not for the self-imposed insignificance he seemed to wear like a protective shield. 

His stature was also rather small, his shoulders slightly hunched as if he'd spent too long trying to disappear into the background.

"I'm going to be late...," he muttered, tugging at the edges of his tie.

With his backpack slung over one shoulder, Maro descended the stairs, the faint smell of breakfast clinging to the air. 

His father sat at the kitchen table, looking worn but managing a weak smile.

"Try to have a good day today, for the sake of both of us. " his father murmured, his words heavy with the weight of yesterday's events. 

Maro nodded, though the sense of foreboding made his chest tighten. Since that one night, his good days had been sparingly few. 

"You too, Dad," he replied, knowing his father's day rarely stretched beyond eating and resting.

He stepped outside, pulling the door shut behind him, and began the walk to Derrington Academy.

The moment he passed through the school gates, Maro could feel it—eyes on him. 

Whispers spread like wildfire through the crowds of students, their gazes lingering on him, some curious, others suspicious.

"Is that him?" a voice hissed nearby.

"I heard he stopped a mugger last night…"

"Can't be him. Look at him. He doesn't seem like much." Another called out, sneering derisively.

Maro kept his head down, doing his best to ignore the flurry of murmurs. 

As he entered his first class, the room fell into an immediate hush. 

Conversations dropped, and dozens of eyes turned in unison to follow his steps. His seat felt like a spotlight, glaring and unforgiving. 

Maro forced himself to focus on the open book in front of him, but the noise didn't fade.

"...the one who got shot, right?"

"He stopped a mugger? Just outside of school? No way!"

Each fragment of gossip only added to the buzz, making Maro's stomach twist.

He tried to shrink further into his chair, the noise of the room blurring into a dull roar.

By the time the bell rang, he couldn't flee fast enough.

The cafeteria wasn't much better. 

Maro headed straight to the vending machines, hoping to buy a bottle of water and make a quick escape. But as he bent down to grab his drink, he felt a shadow fall over him.

"Well, look who it is," a deep voice said. 

Maro straightened slowly, his heart sinking as he came face-to-face with three older boys. Trouble.

The leader of the group—a tall, broad-shouldered brute—smirked, his eyes flicking over Maro with obvious disdain. "So, you think you're some kinda hero now, Dumont?" His voice dripped with condescension.

Maro didn't respond. He stepped to the side, hoping to slip past, but the boys blocked his way, forming a wall.

"What's that? Your superhero elixir?" Caleb mocked, eyeing the water bottle in Maro's hand. 

The taunts drew the attention of nearby students. A small crowd began to gather, whispers and giggles feeding the tension in the air.

"Maybe you were just lucky," another boy snickered, nudging Maro hard enough to make him stumble backward. "The mugger probably slipped and fell unconscious. One lucky moment and now you're the big shot, right Dumont?"

The cafeteria turned into an arena, and Maro was its unwilling gladiator. 

He felt his frustration building, the heat of their mockery stoking a fire inside him. He clenched his fists, forcing himself to stay calm.

"Hey, hero." the leader spat, stepping forward. "Let's see how tough you really are."

Before Maro could react, the boy swung. His fist came down like a hammer.

Maro braced for impact, nearly collapsing under the blow.

His water bottle fell out of his grasp, but that was the only thing to fall. He endured, his knees buckling but steadfast in keeping the scrawny boy upright.

The bully blinked in surprise, frustration flashing in his eyes as he threw another punch. He had expected him to fall in one go.

This time, Maro dodged, the world around him slowing as adrenaline pumped through his body.

[Endurance +1]

[Endurance +1]

The crowd gasped as Maro escaped the blow narrowly, their excitement heightened as they expected a retaliatory strike. 

But, Maro didn't fight back—he didn't want to. He just stood his ground, weathering every blow Caleb and his friends threw at him.

After seeing that he had gained two stat points from the bullies, he had welcomed the additional punches. It seemed like the most beneficial thing to do.

[Endurance +1]

[Endurance +1]

The cafeteria monitors finally rushed in, shoving Caleb and his lackeys away. "That's enough!" one of them barked. The bullies, realizing they'd gone too far, melted into the crowd, muttering curses as they stalked off.

A monitor knelt beside Maro. "You alright, kid?"

Maro didn't answer. He wasn't hurt—not really. Just tired. 

He gave a curt nod and pushed past the monitor, leaving the cafeteria in silence, his water bottle lying forgotten on the floor.

Maro found himself in the school restroom, the door shut behind him as he sat on the closed toilet seat. He rubbed his temples, the frustration boiling over.

On his phone, he scrolled through the report of the mugging. 

Apparently, that thug he got his revenge on was part of a gang that had been annoying the police recently, a group of individuals that targeted the vulnerable. 

How was he supposed to know that giving his name to the police would open up that can of worms? What was he supposed to do—run away from them when they questioned him?

He scoffed, 'Yeah right, not in Gotham.'

Maro was lucky that the thug only carried a knife that day, or it would have ended just like that first fateful encounter.

'If only I were stronger...'

The system chimed in his mind, as if sensing his turmoil.

[Quest: Improve all stats by +5!]

[Countdown: 24 hours. Do you accept?]

"Yes," Maro whispered, his voice hardening with resolve.

[Quest Accepted. Time remaining: 24 hours.]

As if in response, the door creaked open. Voices—their voices—floated into the restroom.

"He's such a joke," One of them sneered, unaware of Maro's presence. "Got all lucky with that mugger thing. Now everyone thinks he's some big deal. Strutting around like some hero."

"Yeah," another voice chimed in, laughter thick with disdain. "You saw him in the cafeteria, right Caleb? Total fluke."

Maro sat in silence, his anger bubbling beneath the surface. He stared at the stat screen flickering in his vision.

-

Maro Dumont (Valor) 

Race: Human 

Strength: 3 

Agility: 3 

Endurance: 7 

Vitality: 4 

Intelligence: 10 

Luck: 1

[Available Stat Points: 3] 

[Renown: 44]

-

[You have 3 Available Stat Points. Would you like to allocate them?]

'No,' he thought grimly.

Maro's gaze lingered on the rest of his status screen, specifically his 'renown'. 

He had little doubt that it was a direct consequence of the recent media coverage, a spotlight that had unexpectedly turned his school life upside down.

Whilst the reaction from his peers was undeniably intense, Maro couldn't fault them for their suspicion. 

A student getting shot, only to return to school and foil a mugging with the very criminal who had shot him—it sounded like something out of a movie.

And well, he supposed even his own actions were rather odd. 

Muggings weren't uncommon in Gotham. Common behaviour included taking a detour or just ignoring the victim and hoping the perpetrator wouldn't go for you next.

Gotham was no place for heroes.

The voices outside grew louder, jeering and mocking, but Maro stayed still, waiting. He would face them again—but next time, he would be ready.

The system hummed.

[Time remaining: 24 hours.]

Maro took a deep breath. 

'Next time', he promised himself, 'it won't be Maro they face. It will be Valor.'