Weeks passed, and Anthony settled into a rhythm that confused everyone around him. He attended classes, but he often sat by the window, staring into space. To the teachers, it looked like daydreaming. To the students, it looked like arrogance. In reality, Anthony was analyzing the curvature of spacetime, calculating the resonance frequency of the classroom walls, and mentally rearranging the molecular structure of his desk just to see if he could make it indestructible. He could.
But peace was a luxury Derek couldn't allow.
"Hey! Hollow Boy!" Derek's voice boomed down the hallway, echoing off the high ceilings. He blocked Anthony's path, flanked by two lackeys who had awakened physique souls similar to his own. Their muscles rippled under their uniforms, and they walked with the heavy stomp of people who believed weight equals worth.
"Heard you're some big shot now?" Derek sneered, cracking his knuckles. The sound was like breaking branches. "Saving cities? Rewriting the laws of physics? Why don't you rewrite my fist into your face? See if your theories can stop a concussion!"
A crowd gathered immediately. This was the daily entertainment. The Strongman vs. The Mystery. Everyone expected Anthony to cower or run.
"Derek," Anthony said politely, closing his book with a soft snap. He looked up, his eyes calm and clear. "I would strongly advise against this course of action. Biomechanically speaking, your center of gravity is currently shifted 3.7 degrees too far forward. If you throw that punch with your usual lack of finesse, you are going to strain your lumbar region severely. And frankly, with that posture you walk around with, you're going to have chronic back pain by thirty. It's really not a good look for a rising star."
"Are you mocking me?!" Derek roared, his face turning red. "I'll crush you into the floorboards!"
Derek lunged. It was a full-speed shoulder bash. He intended to hit Anthony like a cannonball and send him crashing through the lockers behind him.
Anthony didn't move an inch. He didn't even raise his hands. He just sighed, and in his mind, he issued a single command to the universe: Localized gravity increase, point target, five hundred percent.
Suddenly, Derek felt as if his body had been filled with lead. His legs, which were usually strong enough to support a truck, buckled under his own weight. His momentum turned against him. He didn't hit Anthony. He didn't even reach him. He tripped over absolutely nothing and face-planted directly onto the hard marble floor with a sound like a sack of wet concrete hitting the ground.
THUD.
The impact shook the floor tiles.
Derek lay there, groaning, stars spinning around his head. His nose was bleeding, his pride shattered, and he couldn't understand why he had fallen. There was nothing there! No tripwire! No magic circle!
Anthony stepped over him casually, looking down with innocent concern. "Told you. Gravity is a harsh mistress. You really should invest in some core strengthening exercises, Derek. Or perhaps just... stop running. It's clearly dangerous for your health."
As Anthony walked away, the crowd stared in silence. One of Derek's lackeys helped him up, whispering, "Boss... maybe the floor was just slippery?"
Derek spat out blood. "It wasn't slippery! It was... it was him! That devil!"