Jakarta, Monday morning.
The sky was clear, but the hearts of many at Dermaga 2 High School were covered by something invisible yet heavy. As if the air carried a premonition. A premonition that this morning was not an ordinary beginning. Not just the start of a new day—but a turning point.
It had been three days since the incident in the back corridor of the old building.
And for three days, Jora Nakka had remained mostly silent.
Yet every movement he made was still the center of attention. He walked calmly, as usual. But all eyes followed him. Whispers accompanied his steps—in the hallways, the cafeteria, even the bathrooms. His name had become a living legend.
And amidst it all, one other name resurfaced: Devan.
Monday, 6:45 AM – Corridor of Class 1-C
Rina stopped in her tracks as she saw a large man in a high school uniform walking through the gate. Her voice caught.
"Arif…" she whispered softly.
Arif, standing beside her, turned his head. His gaze froze instantly.
There he was.
Heavy steps, black shoes covered in mud, an old backpack slung over his shoulders. On his left arm, a faint tattoo was still visible beneath his long-sleeved shirt. In his eyes… emptiness. No spirit, no anger—just a void that made him even more frightening.
Devan had returned.
Students who recognized him instinctively moved to the sides of the corridor, giving way without thinking. No one wanted to brush against him. It was as if their primal instincts knew—this man was more dangerous than a wild beast.
7:00 AM – Inside the classroom
Inside the classroom, Jora sat at his desk. His book was open. Pen in hand. But not a single word was written.
"He's back," Arif whispered quietly, almost like a bad prayer. "I saw him myself. Devan."
Rina looked at Jora, anxious. "We have to report this to the teacher. Or the student council. Or someone."
Jora didn't turn around. He slowly closed his book. "Reporting won't stop them. Devan… isn't the type to fear rules."
"So you want to stay silent again?" Rina urged.
"I don't want to start a war. But I won't back down either."
7:20 AM – Back field
Dimas stood in the middle of the old field, rarely used since the sports building moved to the north side of the school. Dust still clung to the bent basketball hoop post. Grass grew wildly between cracked tiles. And this was where it would all begin again.
Heavy footsteps approached from the west.
Devan emerged from behind the tall fence's shadow.
His gaze locked onto Dimas.
"So what's your purpose calling me?
You called me because of your problem?" His voice was flat.
Dimas nodded, a little nervous. "It's not just my problem. It's about this school. About the pride of everyone who's been stepped on by a new kid."
"New kid?" Devan raised his eyebrow.
"Jora. A transfer from Japan. Made many people ashamed. Including me."
Devan sat on an old tire near the field. He pulled out a cheap pack of cigarettes, lit one, and inhaled deeply. "I've heard bits and pieces about him. Winning at basketball. Making your gang lose. Ruining your name."
"Played by a new kid, ha ha ha ha," Devan chuckled softly.
Dimas clenched his fist. "I'm ready to humble myself. But I need you. I can't beat him. But you can."
Devan didn't answer immediately. He just stared at the sky. Then spoke quietly, but coldly:
"I'm not helping you for your pride. But for one thing:
I hate people who pretend to be strong but don't understand the meaning of pain."
Meanwhile – On the school rooftop
Noah stood at the edge of the roof, holding a worn notebook filled with his writings.
The wind blew strands of his hair, but he didn't move.
He looked down—right at the field where Dimas and Devan were talking.
A faint smile appeared on his face.
"The game has finally begun," he murmured.
He opened his book and wrote calmly.
Subject: Jora Nakka
Status: Targeted by two opposing forces.
Threat: Devan. Grade 1. Fighter. Ex-thug.
Solution: Approach. Observe. Test mental endurance.
9:30 AM – Class 1-C
The lesson went on normally. But the atmosphere did not. Everything felt like waiting for an explosion. Even the teacher felt something was different. Eyes that usually focused on the blackboard now frequently glanced at Jora.
And Jora?
He knew.
He knew that the shadow of his past was approaching.
When the break bell rang, someone stood at the front of the class.
Devan.
"Jora Nakka," he said loudly.
The whole class immediately fell silent. Even the sound of chairs shifting stopped.
Jora stood slowly, facing the man.
"I heard you're tough," Devan said. "You already made my friend fall. Now, I'm going to test you."
"Your look's convincing," "Have you trained in martial arts, or something?" Devan added.
Jora didn't answer. But his eyes flared—not with emotion, but with awareness. That this was a moment that couldn't be avoided.
Student Council Room – A few minutes later
Clara received a report from a student.
"Devan… came to Jora's class?"
The student council vice president stood up quickly. "We have to intervene."
Clara gripped the armrest of her chair, thinking.
"Not yet. Let's see… who exactly we're dealing with."
Outside the classroom – Long corridor
Jora stood face to face with Devan, with Dimas behind him.
Arif and Rina came out too, looking a little anxious.
"I don't have a problem with you," Jora said calmly.
"Now you do," Devan replied.
"If this is about Dimas' pride—"
Devan interrupted. "This isn't about him. It's about you. You look interesting and remind me of someone from my past. Someone I put behind bars with my own hands."
Jora was silent.
More students gathered along the corridor edges. The atmosphere was tense. Some started recording with their phones.
Devan took a step forward.
"I don't care who you are. But if you're really a fighter…
We'll settle this somewhere more suitable. Tonight. The old field. You and me. One-on-one."
Jora stared at him. For a long moment.
Then he nodded.
"But don't think this is about winning or losing," he said.
"It's about who can stand after losing everything."
With heavy steps, Devan left Jora behind. What Devan didn't know was that the person he faced was a monster trying to find peace after having lived through so much.
Jora watched Devan walk away, murmuring, "Do I really have to go back to how I was?"
"No," he said, clenching his hand as if holding a stone. "I just want to learn like the other students."
But within that clenched fist, Jora thought: wherever I go to school, I will still raise my hand to fight.
In the world of Dermaga 2 High School, power was no longer determined by grades or status.
But by who stayed calm… when the fire burned everything down.
Jora had accepted the challenge.
AND,
Devan had shown his fangs.