My Talent's Name Is Generator Chapter 2 2: Graduation Day: The Perfect Time to Make Enemies

I stood within the private auditorium of Avenue Academy alongside roughly one hundred other students, divided into various clusters. The hall was devoid of seating, consisting only of a raised stage at the front and a vast, open floor where we were forced to stand.

The academy lived by a specific motto: "Man today, soldier tomorrow."

Given that directive, it was no surprise they offered us zero comfort.

A man today... I couldn't help but speculate on what the girls in the room thought about that. I was fairly certain they had their own perspective on such a slogan.

In any case, I never craved comfort. My desires were always rooted in action.

While waiting, I stood with my group and began shadowboxing right in front of Steve’s face. Since the instructor wasn't due for another fifteen minutes and I was restless, I kept my punches stopping just an inch short of Steve’s nose.

Steve remained motionless as always, eyes half-lidded and hands shoved in his pockets. He stared at my flying fists without blinking once.

'I just wish my strikes had enough force to at least make his hair move.'

Nik, one of my companions, spoke up.

"Hey, Billion, did you get any sleep at all last night?"

Before I could respond, Feng chimed in.

"Doubtful. I bet he was vibrating with all that excess energy."

Actually, I did sleep.

I had actually gone to bed earlier than usual and slept like a log.

I simply wanted the night to end. Sleep is the best way to travel through time; you shut your eyes at night, open them, and—bam—it’s morning.

I lowered my stance slightly, shifting my focus to Steve’s midsection with my punches.

"No, Feng. I slept quite well."

I grunted between strikes, wishing I could feel my knuckles connect with actual flesh.

"I just wanted today to arrive... as quickly as possible."

Suddenly, I noticed Steve’s eyes shift away from my hands to look at something behind me.

I turned to see what he was watching.

A group of ten boys was approaching us, led by Cena, the resident delinquent of our year.

Every group seems to have jerks like him. His lackeys trailed behind him like worker ants following a queen.

Ceasing my punches, I stood tall and slid my hands into my own pockets.

I cracked my neck, puffed out my chest, and walked directly toward the coming trouble.

Being the leader of my group, I took the responsibility of facing threats very seriously. Extremely seriously.

I felt Steve move to my side, matching my pace to confront Cena with me.

He leaned over and murmured quietly.

"Keep your cool. I don't want you starting a fight and ruining my afternoon—unless, of course, he’s the one to swing first."

I gave a simple nod, my eyes fixed on Cena.

As we walked toward Cena's group, they marched toward us. The gap closed until we were only a few feet apart—close enough to land a hit without needing to step forward.

I stood that close on purpose. I had a strong urge to punch this moron, perhaps even reshape his annoying face.

But I couldn't. Not with the Academy rules in place.

I stared him down, my expression a challenge, waiting for him to open his mouth and ruin the air.

Predictably, he did.

Cena sneered, his voice laced with malice.

"Billion, I’d love nothing more than to grind your face into the dirt and spit on you. These pathetic rules are the only things stopping me. Just one more day. From tomorrow on, you better wash your neck and wait for this King to find you."

I truly wondered what went on in his brain.

Who actually talks like that? We were just teens in a school rivalry, yet he acted like a scripted villain for no reason at all.

What had I even done to him? I had won a few sparring matches against him, sure, but that’s the point of sparring. Who takes that personally?

Okay, I might have encouraged his girlfriend to leave him, but I was doing her a favor. Any honorable person would have stepped in. And yes, he got a fifteen-day suspension because of me, but he shouldn't have tried to bully Steve. I wasn't going to let that slide.

I smirked, thinking that if I baited him enough, he might actually try to slap me. Then I’d have a valid excuse to humble him.

"You know, Cena," I remarked, leaning in closer, "I once read that kings don't follow rules. They create them.

So, your majesty, I humbly ask that you disregard the academy regulations and grant me a few punches and slaps right now."

I kept my eyes on him, my grin growing wider.

A few chuckles broke out from the surrounding students, and I watched Cena’s arrogant smirk vanish into a scowl.

He was always a bit slow and terrible at comebacks.

"Laugh while you can," Cena hissed, stepping into my personal space, his voice dropping to a threatening whisper.

"But the real world begins tomorrow."

He moved even closer, his hot breath hitting my ear as he muttered.

"I wonder if your frail grandmother will come to your rescue when she finds out there are no more rules protecting her grandson."

He scoffed, glared at me one last time, and then turned on his heel. His followers gave me final dirty looks before trailing after him.

"Real life, huh..." I whispered to myself, the words burning in my throat.

I’d be lying if I said his comment didn't infuriate me.

Real life? Fine.

I was more than ready for it. Perhaps I’d show him how the real world works by burying his head in the pavement.

Just as I prepared to follow him, Steve’s hand gripped my shoulder firmly.

"Let it go. It's time."

I nodded, allowing my rage to simmer. Whatever Cena planned for tomorrow, I was prepared to meet it head-on. I was always searching for a way to vent my frustration; calisthenics just weren't cutting it anymore.

Suddenly, a piercing whistle echoed through the hall like a knife.

I turned around, my legs twitching with anticipation. My heart hammered against my ribs.

It was finally happening.

I walked with Steve as the other students instinctively parted to let us through.

My blood hummed with energy, and every stride felt like a surge of adrenaline. Following the academy’s rigid pecking order, I took my spot at the very front. As the top student of the batch, my position was undisputed. Steve, ever the stoic, took the fourth spot.

In seconds, we were in formation—ten straight rows, with my line leading the way.

On the stage stood our instructor, Daniel Strongmen. He scanned the crowd like a predator watching its prey. By instinct, I snapped into a rigid attention stance.

He acted the part of a hardass, but I knew his history. Behind that cold facade was a man who had survived hell and fought his way back. I had read about him—he was a man who had sacrificed nearly everything for a sliver of power.

Lean, intense, and as tall as Steve, he commanded the room with the discipline of someone who had spent a decade forging soldiers.

He was respected and feared—a true pillar of the institution.

He cleared his throat, his voice booming and steady.

"I am certain you all know why we are gathered here. You understand the procedure. Today is your graduation... and your final day within these walls. I trust you are all prepared."

"YES, SIR!"

A single, thunderous shout filled the auditorium. It was mine.

Silence followed. Nearly a hundred students stood frozen, but every gaze shifted toward me.

Daniel’s eyes locked onto mine immediately, narrowing with a sharp intensity, as if he intended to incinerate me where I stood.

I met his gaze and tilted my head slightly—not as a sign of respect, but as a challenge.

For my entire time at this academy, we had clashed. Our philosophies were incompatible. He preached discipline, stealth, and striking only when necessary. I believed the opposite. I wanted to be seen. I wanted to be famous. I wanted my enemies to tremble at my name before I even arrived.

I wasn't sure when I picked up this attitude, but I loved it. It was my fuel, and I had lived by it ever since.

We stared each other down for several heartbeats. Finally, Daniel spoke again.

"Very well, let us not delay. We shall begin the process."

His eyes remained fixed on me.

"I will call names individually. When you hear yours, enter the Awakening Room behind me."

His gaze bored into mine as he announced the first name.

"Billion Ironhart."

I nodded and moved forward. My boots echoed in the silent hall, the only sound to be heard. Even my own heartbeat felt deafening, like a war drum in my chest.

Stopping before Daniel, I realized I was a few inches taller than him, yet his sheer presence still made me feel small.

He looked me in the eye.

"Good luck," he said.

I gave a curt nod and walked past him, heading straight for the blue door.