Bully Lord

Part-65

The familiar rhythm of James' feet pounded the pavement as he jogged towards school. It was a routine he'd established weeks ago, a way to channel some of his nervous energy and hopefully increase his STR – Strength – stat.  Since the Sourov fight, however, his usual zeal had waned.  The victory, mixed with the unsettling events of Crisis Mode, left him with a strange sense of hollowness.

Yet, a deeper ember of determination flickered within him. He still craved strength, a yearning to stand on his own two feet, punch the hack out of those bullies. He remembered back to the fight, the unsettling display of power during Crisis Mode. It felt alien, a puppet show with him as the unwilling marionette.

Then, another memory surfaced – his attempt to use "Know Your Enemy and Ally" on his father.  The blank stat screen had surprised him, a stark contrast to the numbers he'd seen for his mother and sister.  It wasn't that his father was weak, far from it.  James knew that.  The fact that the System couldn't even detect his father's stats spoke volumes. 

"Just how strong do you have to be to be invisible to the System?" he muttered to himself, his brow furrowed in thought.

This new question fueled his jog, a spark igniting the embers of his determination. 

Just thinking about having the same DNA coursing through his veins made him wonder if he would be as strong as his father one day.

Then James smiled to himself, "Of course I will. I'll become the ruler of all bullies. What will people call me then? Lord of Bullies? Hmm... Bully Lord sounds fun. I'll be the bully who bullies all the bullies in this world."

James, fueled by his newfound determination, reached a crescendo in his jog.  He pumped his fist into the air, feeling a surge of power… well, a surge of lactate burning in his muscles, but the sentiment was there!  He envisioned himself standing on a mountaintop, a beacon of strength defying the System's control.  Taking a deep, dramatic breath, he declared, "This world shall know… pai......"

Suddenly, a voice, gruff and exasperated, boomed in his head.  "Cut, cut! Don't say it, you bastard! You're not design to be an eighth-grade syndrome kid!"

James froze, his eyes darting around wildly.  "Who the heck just spoke?!" he yelped, his voice echoing eerily in the empty street.  He spun around, searching for the source of the disembodied voice, his heart hammering in his chest.  Was this some kind of System upgrade?  Interactive hallucinations?

Seeing absolutely nothing but confused pigeons and a grumpy-looking squirrel, James decided the best course of action was to… well, act normal.  He coughed awkwardly, trying to salvage the shreds of his dignity.  "Uh, copyright speech, I guess?" he mumbled to himself, his cheeks burning.  "Maybe something more inspiring next time?"

Shrugging off the bizarre incident, James resumed his jog, his grand declaration now reduced to a pathetic whimper. 

The author thought inwardly, "Phew! Kids these days."