From Bullets To Billions

Chapter 657: Podium Attack

Jono stood frozen, his heart hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird. He could tell just by looking at the pulsing vein in Sylan’s forehead that the senior was beyond mere annoyance; he was furious. There was a specific, predatory look in Sylan’s eyes that signaled a clear ultimatum: follow orders, or get hit.

Left with no viable alternative, Jono decided to swallow his pride and follow the athlete back toward the business department lecture halls. His mind raced, trying to find some shred of logic to comfort himself.

’He wouldn’t actually do anything in broad daylight, would he?’ Jono thought, his palms sweating. ’I mean, we’re at a prestigious university. There are professors in every hallway, security guards at the gates, and hundreds of witnesses. Everyone here is an adult. If he tries anything, people will just report him to the police or the dean.’

But even as the thought formed, Jono knew the bitter truth of the world. Of course, there were some people who would call the police at the first sign of trouble, but for what the authorities considered "minor scuffles" or "student disagreements," the police rarely did anything meaningful. Even if they were called, they often gave the aggressors nothing more than a slap on the wrist. And even if they did take someone away, the offender would be back on the streets, and back on campus, within twenty-four hours, looking for whoever snitched.

There was a pervasive fear that if the demand was something small, like attending a party, it was better to simply comply than to risk the physical consequences of defiance. That was the trap Jono was caught in. He told himself he would just play along for now to keep the peace.

When they reached the lecture hall, the professor was just settling in behind his podium to begin the session. He looked up at the door and saw Sylan. Without a single word being exchanged, Sylan simply lifted a hand and pointed a finger toward the exit. To the utter shock of the students, the professor didn’t protest or ask for an ID. He simply nodded, gathered his notes, and walked out the door, effectively surrendering his classroom to the intruder.

’What the hell?’ Max thought, lifting his head from his desk. He had been half-asleep, but the sudden silence and the departure of the professor caught his full attention. He watched the exchange with a cold, analytical gaze.

’So the sports department has even the faculty wrapped around their finger. This whole situation is reminding me of Dipter all over again,’ Max mused, his eyes narrowing. ’Is it a similar setup here? Does Donto have the entire university hierarchy in his pocket? Or maybe it’s not even Donto, maybe it’s the shadow of his father’s influence.’

Max also found himself wondering why the soccer player who just walked in looked like he had a permanent chip on his shoulder. Sylan had a deep, practiced frown on his face, radiating hostility before anyone had even said a word.

Sylan marched to the podium and slammed both hands down on the wooden surface. The loud, echoing thud snapped everyone’s attention to the front of the room.

"Alright, listen up! Your friend Bono here, "

"It’s Jono," Jono quickly corrected, his voice trembling.

"Do you really think that’s important right now?" Sylan hissed through gritted teeth, leaning over the podium. "Your ’representative’ here tells me that some of you have decided you won’t be able to make it to this evening’s event. Did I not make myself clear earlier? It is compulsory! You’d think a bunch of business students would understand the basic definition of that word."

Sylan scanned the room, his gaze landing on the nervous faces in the front row. "Whatever plans you have today, you cancel them. For the next three or four years of your lives, this university, and the respect you show your seniors, will be the most important thing you have. The seniors are the ones who can make your life here very easy, or very, very hard. If you don’t turn up, you’re going to learn exactly how hard it can get."

As Sylan spoke, he noticed two students in the middle of the room whispering to each other. They were looking at their phones, clearly debating whether they should call campus security or the police.

"Alright, it’s clear none of you are taking this seriously enough," Sylan said. He walked over to Jono in a blur of movement and grabbed the back of the smaller boy’s head. He wound his fingers into Jono’s hair and dragged him toward the podium.

"It seems you all rely on this person to be your voice. You use him to deliver your pathetic excuses and your little messages. Fine. I’ll deliver our message back to you through him!"

Without warning, Sylan slammed Jono’s head face-first into the edge of the wooden podium. The sound of the impact was sickening, a dull, heavy crack that made every student in the room jolt in their seats.

"AHHH!" a girl in the front row screamed, covering her mouth.

Before anyone could move, Sylan slammed Jono’s head into the desk a second time. The room erupted into chaos, students crying out in shock, several of them frantically reaching into their bags for their phones.

"Go ahead!" Sylan roared, his voice booming over the screams. "Call whoever you want! But I promise you, whoever makes that call, your head is going to be the next one on this podium. Maybe some of you will see it as an honor to have your blood stain these halls!"

He slammed Jono’s head down one final time and let go. Jono’s limp body slid off the podium and crumpled onto the floor, blood beginning to pool on the linoleum. The sight was so brutal and the threat so visceral that the room went deathly silent. No one dared to pull out a phone.

"So," Sylan said, wiping his hands on his athletic shorts as if he had just finished a light workout. "Is anyone else going to say anything about skipping the event? Or will we be seeing all of you this evening?"

The students were in a state of catatonic shock. They stared at the floor, too terrified to speak. But the silence wasn’t just caused by Sylan’s violence; it was also because one student had stood up and walked down the aisle. Max had reached the front, lifted the unconscious Jono off the ground, and effortlessly placed him over his shoulder.

Sylan’s eyes widened in surprise, then narrowed into a dangerous slit. "What do you think you’re doing, freshman?"

Max looked at him, his expression completely devoid of fear. His eyes were cold, flat, and remarkably steady.

"What does it look like I’m doing?" Max asked, his voice calm and level. "I’m taking him to a hospital."