Return to school (2)

As Sebastian stepped out of the car, the grandeur of Hayhurst High School unfurled before him.

The prestigious private institution, known for its rigorous academic and survival training programs, stood majestically amidst a lush, sprawling campus.

The modern architectural marvels were harmoniously integrated with the natural beauty of meticulously landscaped gardens and verdant spaces.

While walking towards the main gate, Sebastian was enveloped by the sense of prestige that Hayhurst exuded.

As he crossed the threshold, the state-of-the-art facilities sprawled out before him: advanced classrooms equipped with the latest technology, extensive libraries housing knowledge that spanned centuries, and laboratories designed for cutting-edge research and experimentation.

But what truly set Hayhurst apart was clear as Sebastian ventured further into the campus.

Beyond the academic excellence, the school boasted specialized training grounds that caught his eye.

Vast wilderness areas, maintained with meticulous care, offered a real-world classroom where survival skills were honed.

Under the guidance of expert survivalists, students learned to navigate, forage, and sustain themselves in nature.

The martial disciplines were equally impressive. Archery ranges, where students could master the bow or crossbow, dotted the landscape alongside arenas and dojos for melee weapons' training.

Sebastian frowned. There were too many people. Far more than he could handle without freaking out.

<Calm down Seb, calm down. Don't fight anyone, and for sure, don't kill anyone.>

Sebastian remembered many of these people. Some he even killed himself in the past. He sighed. <Let's go.>

As he made his way further into the heart of the campus, the diversity of student life at Hayhurst unfolded before him.

Groups of students, lively and animated, were heading towards the cafeteria, their laughter and chatter filling the air with a vibrant energy that seemed alien to Sebastian.

As Sebastian's gaze wandered, a particular group heading towards the gym captured his full attention.

Unlike the others, these students carried not just sports bags, but also an array of weapons that glinted subtly under the sun.

Their demeanor set them apart; an air of arrogance seemed to cloak them, an invisible barrier that whispered of their heritage.

They were, undoubtedly, the progeny of Thespian families. <Motherfuckers… >

The way they moved, with a confidence that bordered on disdain, spoke volumes of their standing.

It wasn't just their weapons that marked their status; their clothes, too, were of the finest quality, each piece likely costing more than what most families spent on groceries in a month.

Among them, Thomas Grayson stood out. Tall and muscular, his physique was a testament to rigorous training rather than mere genetic luck.

His brown eyes, sharp and calculating, missed nothing, and his brown hair was styled to casual perfection.

But it wasn't his appearance that set Sebastian's teeth on edge; it was the unmistakable aura of arrogance that Thomas exuded, a trait that seemed to run deep in his veins.

Sebastian felt a familiar knot of dislike forming in his stomach. Thomas had a reputation for never dirtying his own hands; instead, he sent others to do his bidding, to bully and intimidate.

Sebastian had been on the receiving end of such treatment more times than he cared to remember. Thomas never directly engaged in the act, but his fingerprints were all over the misery he orchestrated.

The sight of him now, surrounded by his entourage, disgusted him. It was at that moment that Sebastian heard a voice calling for him. <I knew it.>

"I'm calling for you, prick!"

<Don't hurt him. Don't Do not>

Sebastian turned. In front of him was Derrick Lawson. The man could only be defined as his main bully, or better, tormentor.

Derrick commanded attention not just by his stature but by the air of defiance he exuded.

While standing tall and athletically built, Derrick's broad shoulders were a clear testament to his physical prowess, hinting at hours spent honing his strength and agility.

His short, dark hair, styled in a deliberate messy fashion, added to his rebellious aura, giving him an edge of unpredictability.

But it was Derrick's eyes that set him apart—piercing green. They held a depth that seemed to challenge the world around him.

Those eyes, sharp and calculating, scanned his surroundings with a predatory intensity, and Sebastian was the prey.

At that moment, Derrick's expression was one of smirking confidence, a look that seemed natural as breathing to him.

Sebastian couldn't help but feel a twinge of annoyance at the sight. He was the type who sought conflict, not just to assert his strength, but to feed his ego.

<Ok. Don't kill him. Do not>

"Derrick!" Sebastian said. "What a pleasure!"

"Where have you been, failure? Your absence troubled me a lot. I had to go buy my lunch personally for these two weeks. You know how annoying it was?" Derrick smiled.

"Ah. I had some matters to attend to at home. I'm sorry for your trouble. Maybe you could have asked a friend?"

Derrick then walked toward Sebastian. He grabbed him by the collar.

"You are my slave, Wells. Don't you ever forget that." There was an enraged look on the young man's face, and a handful of people surrounded them to see what was happening.

"Derrick is at it again," said one.

"Kill yourself, Wells!" said another.

However, Sebastian was annoyed. "Keep your hands off me."

Derrick looked at his friends, that were all surrounding Sebastian. "You heard him? Keep your hands off me!" he said while mimicking Sebastian's words.

"Did you hit your head while you were at home? Did you see your slutty mom selling herself to some old man and got angry?"

However, something no one expected happened.

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAAHHA."

The sudden eruption of laughter from Sebastian took everyone by surprise. His laugh, loud and unrestrained, echoed across the courtyard, cutting through the tension like a knife.

It was a sound so unexpected, so out of place at the moment's brewing confrontation, that it left the onlookers and even Derrick baffled.

As the laughter spilled from him, the crowd that had gathered around the two, anticipating a showdown, exchanged confused glances.

This wasn't the reaction anyone had expected from someone cornered by Derrick's imposing figure and challenging demeanor.

The typical responses ranged from defiance to submission, but laughter—genuine, uncontrollable laughter—was unheard of in such situations. Especially not made by Sebastian.

"WHAT ARE YOU LAUGHING FOR YOU PRICK?"

Though, Sebastian had a single thought in his mind. <Make him suffer, make suffer!>