Lucas Grant stood at the gates of Olympus High, the iron-clad fortress of the American elite. Towering steel spires loomed above him like castles of the modern world, and just past the guards in suits, luxury cars idled like tamed beasts.
To anyone else, this might've felt like a dream. But to Lucas—Jin Long reborn—it was another battlefield. And he had no weapons.
He looked down at his body, still frail from the accident. His mind was still adapting to this life, memories of Lucas Grant mixing strangely with those of Jin Long. He was starting from scratch again—but not without wisdom.
Inside the gates, students bustled with arrogance. Gold watches, limited-edition sneakers, bags with five-figure price tags—wealth was as visible as air here.
A few steps inside and Lucas had already heard it.
"Isn't that the outcast Grant kid?"
"Didn't he just wake up from a coma?"
"He's a freak. Loser's dad got kicked out of the boardroom by his own brother."
The words meant little. He'd been called worse in his old life. But this wasn't martial territory. Here, hierarchy wasn't based on power or cultivation. It was money. Influence. Legacy.
And Lucas Grant was broke by Olympus standards. His father had been stripped of power, and his branch of the family had no say in the Grant Industries empire.
The school resembled more of a tech campus than an educational institution. Holographic timetables floated in the air. AI tutors followed some students like personal assistants. Each student had their own status display—wealth, GPA, network influence, and a mysterious "Tier Level."
Lucas's screen read:
Lucas Grant—Tier 0—Net Worth: Confidential—Influence: 1
He had no idea what that meant, but others noticed.
"Tier 0?" someone laughed. "Even the janitor's kid is Tier 1."
The hallway fell silent as someone walked past—a girl with platinum hair and emerald eyes, flanked by two boys in Armani suits. Students moved like parting seas to let her pass.
"She's Olivia Drake," someone whispered behind Lucas. "Daughter of the crypto king. Tier 6. She's the queen of Olympus."
Behind her walked another boy with sharp cheekbones and a smug look—Sebastian Wolfe.
Tier 6. He didn't even look at Lucas.
Lucas found his class—10A. Everyone sat in tight groups. Rich kids. Famous kids. Everyone knew their place.
He sat alone. Until...
"Hey... You're Lucas, right?"
A scrawny boy in a Star Wars hoodie sat beside him. "I'm Theo. That's Raj," he pointed to a tall Indian kid with glasses so thick they could stop bullets.
"We're basically the school's bottom tier," Raj said. "You might've seen us in the 'Most Likely to Be Ignored' yearbook category."
Lucas cracked a smile. Genuine ones. That was rare.
"You two get bullied?" he asked.
Theo shrugged. "Only when we're visible."
Raj laughed. "The good news is, no one cares about us enough to punch us anymore."
Their conversation was cut short as the door burst open.
A senior walked in. Leather jacket, gold ring, and that same sneer Lucas had seen a thousand times on arrogant clan heirs.
"Fresh meat," the senior said, locking eyes on Lucas.
Lucas stood calmly. "I don't know who you are, but don't try anything stupid."
The guy laughed. "Welcome to Olympus. Rule number one: money talks. You don't have any? Then you don't talk."
He slapped Lucas's books off his desk. Students laughed.
Lucas didn't flinch. But inside, he burned.
It reminded him just how weak he is right now and only fueled his desire to become stronger.