Mark Velocida stood at the edge of the bustling courtyard, his blue eyes scanning the unfamiliar surroundings of Fortress Academy. The towering spires and gleaming glass windows of the school seemed to mock him. He was supposed to be here—he had chosen this path—but the weight of his past clung to him like a shadow.

At sixteen, Mark had already seen more darkness than most could imagine. Raised by his father, Jayden Velocida—the world's most notorious supervillain—Mark had been subjected to relentless training, manipulation, and abuse. His father had seen potential in him, but only for the purpose of furthering his own villainous legacy. Mark had been groomed to follow in his father's footsteps, to embrace the darkness that had consumed their family for generations.

But Mark had rebelled. He had escaped.

He had run away from the only life he had known, seeking refuge at Fortress Academy, a school for aspiring heroes. Here, he hoped to find a new identity, one that wasn't defined by the sins of his father.

As he entered the grand auditorium for the annual power assessment, Mark's heart pounded in his chest. He had trained to conceal his abilities, to suppress the powers that had once been his greatest asset. When the principal asked about his powers, Mark lied, claiming he could only jump high. The room erupted in laughter, but amidst the mocking faces, one pair of eyes remained fixed on him—Ariel Fortress. The fifteen-year-old daughter of the world's number one hero, she observed him with an intensity that unsettled him.

Later, students received their dorm assignments. Mark's key card revealed he was to share a room with Ariel. He sighed, knowing this could attract unwanted attention. That evening, as he prepared a modest meal, he noticed Ariel cooking a lavish dinner for herself. A playful thought crossed his mind. "You can go get in that pot," he muttered under his breath, a rare smile tugging at his lips.

The next day, classes commenced. Mark chose a seat beside Grace Vila, a quiet and intelligent girl with purple hair and eyes. She allowed him to sit but set a boundary. "Don't talk to me unless it's important," she stated, her tone neutral.

As the class progressed, Tyrone—a sixteen-year-old bully with black hair and eyes—mocked Mark, calling him a coward. Ariel entered the room, greeting Mark warmly. This irked Tyrone, who confronted Mark. "Are you friends with her?" he sneered.

"That's none of your business," Mark replied coolly.

Enraged, Tyrone attempted a power punch. Mark, anticipating the move, sidestepped with a silent command: "Misdirection." Tyrone missed, crashing into a desk. Mark delivered a swift kick, sending Tyrone sprawling.

As Tyrone looked up, fear replaced his arrogance. He saw not a hero, but a shadow of his father's legacy.

Mark stood over the fallen Tyrone, his expression unreadable. He turned to Ariel and Grace, his voice steady. "I didn't come here to make friends," he stated, his gaze unwavering. "I came here to escape my past."