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墨書 Inktalez
"Ah, what they did to you is clearly unethical. How can they exclude the next captain? I can go and talk to them," Clinton said with a smile.
"I'm afraid even if you do, it won't make a difference. They will still think I had a hand in it. Once jealousy takes root in their hearts, it quickly grows into a towering tree," Freyr shook his head, lamenting.
Clinton shrugged. "Well, all you need to do is excel in every aspect. Only then will these vile rumors be easily dispelled. The path to becoming a commander is not always smooth; you must come to understand that yourself."
"Nothing is impossible. In this environment, I have to take some special measures to protect myself. If my safety can't be guaranteed, who will care about my life? Rely on the coach? Find an adult? No, such help will only make them feel that I'm afraid," Freyr replied.
"Insightful!" Coach Clinton said succinctly, clapping his hands and laughing. "I'm increasingly convinced that you are the commander I've been looking for. I hope to shape you into the person I envision."
"Coach, I don't want to become anyone's puppet—or rather, if we use another term, a commander is fine too. Whether it's puppet, commander, captain, or leader, what I truly want is to become stronger. I'm not satisfied with just the fact of getting stronger; I'm hungry for it. That's enough for me. Whoever wants to take on that role can do so," Freyr stated.
"Alright then, you're not the first person to say this to me. You know what I can offer you as a coach. When you outright reject me like this, you should realize that you're putting yourself in an unjust position. Aren't you even a little afraid? The more frequently you come to me, don't you think their hostility towards you increases?"
"Just as they are gradually growing weary of you and even treating you like a piece of dirt in the team, if you become captain, those people will no longer pose a threat to you. You can command them to silence; power is a wonderful thing. I grant you power; use it to command them and make them your banners."
Clinton took a deep puff from his cigar and looked up with a hint of a sinister smile. Freyr suddenly felt that this smile was somewhat familiar, as if he had seen it somewhere before. However, he didn't dwell on it and defiantly raised his head to meet Clinton's gaze.
Even though his career over the next three years would be manipulated by this man—if it were merely manipulation that would be one thing—Clinton intended to use him as a puppet or banner. Freyr did not want his subordinates to remain trapped in this devil's grasp for life.
"No!" Freyr simply stated. As he finished speaking, he suddenly stood up and realized he had already walked calmly toward the door.
"Avoidance is meaningless; you have talent—why not cooperate with me?" Clinton smiled again.
"You are doing this intentionally, and I'm sure you're eager to know my decision. It will probably disappoint you: I refuse you. A refusal is a definite refusal. Coach, please don’t call me into your office anymore."
Freyr had turned down the coach's invitations repeatedly over the past few weeks; however, this time he was even more direct in his rejection. Perhaps being decisive was the only way to sever ties with him. He didn't want to walk through three and a half long years alone in an atmosphere filled with suspicion. Although he was accustomed to solitude and didn't dislike it, the accompanying sense of dead silence would affect his mental state.
In the past, solitude had been his lifelong teacher, teaching him growth, progress, and the harsh realities of life. Now faced with future plans, his mind was gradually warming up again; it was no longer realistic for him to accompany solitude once more. The only path he could take was the one he truly desired—the path toward new revenge—even if it was fraught with thorns, nothing could deter his determination.
"Old friend, you've been rejected again."
In the room, a tall, thin shadow emerged from behind the closet, quickly reversing its position. He sat in the mysterious chamber, listening to the conversation that had taken place not long ago. He felt the boy's anger and his desperate attempts to conceal his emotions. Even as Clinton once again displayed a friendly demeanor towards Moyang, this moth, which should have seen a glimmer of light in its loneliness, was destined to behave like other Same Kind moths, drawn to the flame, for only by getting closer could it feel a faint warmth.
The moth was pitiable, and its IQ was not high. While sensing warmth, it remained oblivious to the hostility lurking behind it. When he perceived the boy's actions, he dismissed this layer of concern as insignificant, believing it was merely due to the boy's reclusive nature. He felt no warmth at all because his emotions were too fractured; only with a more intense feeling could his heart be melted. In contrast, Clinton's warmth was merely that of someone dealing with an ordinary lonely moth.
"You don't need to worry about it; isn't it your arrangement that has me doing this? Nothing in my life has ever been difficult for me—no person or specific object," Clinton said with a serious expression.
"This child is extraordinary; you must take special care of him. His loneliness is his driving force for growth. By doing so, you are actually helping him. Think about it—what commander in history has not been surrounded by thousands of troops? Just like Hitler, who raised his arm and called out, millions of Germans became loyal followers of his regime, willing to follow him into danger. This relies on prestige, strategy, and solid capabilities, complemented by timing and opportunity. Leaders often emerge when they are at their lowest; they tend to make a remarkable entrance," the figure leaning against the closet smiled and continued.
"The mistakes I've made in my life don't even compare to the errors I've encountered in the last three months. This child has ignited something in my heart; I swear I will pour more love into him," Clinton said as he rubbed his hands together anxiously.
"Enough! Stop your foolish actions; you are harming him. We are educators, not criminals. There are many ways for educators to approach different students—through guidance, material rewards, or even harsh words to draw out their potential. But for some individuals, these methods are ineffective. If he is lonely, then give him more solitude; let him enjoy progress in that solitude. He needs this environment; I can see he is truly special... I hope you can do this without being soft-hearted; you are just too soft-hearted."
"What’s wrong with being soft-hearted? Since it's come to this, I have no choice but to go along with it."
"I just don't know if he should act alone in his solitude. Jealousy is not exclusive to women; men also struggle with their pride and jealousy issues. These young men often do outrageous things; many talented individuals have fallen because of this. I don't want them to remain in their current state," Clinton replied.
"Do you remember last year's School Cup Tournament? Many teachers were discussing how each competition seems less exciting than the last. What’s the reason? I believe it's fundamentally due to the enhancement of individual skills within teams, which reduces mutual reliance. The competitions have become showcases for certain elite individuals within single-core teams; they score as easily as reaching into their pockets while overshadowing others who are slightly less capable from developing their talents. They become mere background figures in such competitions—what's the point of watching?"
"Old Friend, yours is unity—primarily unity?" Clinton reminded.
The other person nodded and continued, "Without this quality, no matter how strong a team is, what use is it if they fall apart? On the battlefield, they would merely serve as fodder for the Zerg's leveling up. Who would want to watch their cultivated students return home wrapped in flags as corpses? We also have a responsibility to tell them that this path is wrong."
Clinton appeared uncharacteristically lost at that moment; his eyes filled with confusion as he sighed thoughtfully and slowly spoke up. "Yes, you're right. What difference does it make if we kill them ourselves? To be honest with you, I've been unable to sleep lately; it reminds me of those tragedies from my youth. I regret it deeply—I even wish I could die sometimes. But whenever I think about dying, you always grab my hand and tell me not to do anything foolish. I truly regret not listening to you back then when I sent so many brothers off to die."
"Ah, you still remember those things? Those are all in the past now. We live on for revenge; since our return, the world has changed. Humanity cannot return to its former glory. After we came back, my wife and son died; even my grandson reached my age last year before he too left forever. I'm thinking that one cannot live in the shadows of the past forever—that's why I established this school. I intend to arm these children with knowledge within my means and recruit some talented elites among them—just like we were back then—to fulfill our unfinished dreams."
"The continuation of dreams?" Clinton murmured as tears welled up in his eyes.
"Hahaha! Old Friend, your eloquence remains unchanged since our younger days! Yes indeed—the continuation of dreams." The other figure picked up a cigar from the table and settled into a long reverie.
Meanwhile, on the other side of the playground, two figures waited for a moment.
Long Xingchen wore a stern expression and coldly reprimanded, "The afternoon training session has started, but you are late. Therefore, I am going to punish you with a twenty-kilometer run."
"I just came out of the office, Captain. You know how it is; the coach talks a lot," Freyr awkwardly shrugged and tried to excuse himself.
"Who can prove that?" Long Xingchen asked.
"You and Freya both heard the coach; you can testify," Freyr replied.
Long Xingchen and Freya exchanged glances and shook their heads in unison.
Long Xingchen shook his head again and said, "But that's not an excuse. You were still late. Rules cannot be broken. Do you understand? This is a hard rule and discipline. I don't want to hear your explanation. If this were a battlefield, you would already be a corpse, and your recklessness would have delayed the entire battalion's movement. Because of you, many would die; the two situations are not the same."
"I understand."
Freyr fell silent, realizing that he was indeed at fault. He felt that Long Xingchen's reasoning was not wrong either. Running twenty kilometers would serve as a good warm-up.
Without thinking further, he turned and began to run quickly.
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