Chapter 11 Do You Trust Me!? Nope!

• "Hell no. I can't trust someone I don't even know much. This isn't the movie where one can trust easily." Logan said, making Jackson groan, "damn, do I look like a conman?"
• Meanwhile. Others began to panic as well. Some students tried to climb the gates like desperate monkeys escaping a zoo, only to be yanked down by the so-called proud sons of the heavens.
• "Enough!" Arin Blake’s voice boomed, his aura crackling like he was auditioning for the role of Thunder God. "If you want to survive, you’ll listen to me!"
• His lackeys flanked him like overpaid bodyguards, their faces set in expressions that screamed, “We’re important because we say so.”
• "Running won’t solve anything," Arin continued, flipping his hair for extra effect. "We need to stick together and fight back. This is our only chance."
• "Fight back?" a voice scoffed. "You just want to flex in front of Celeste. I mean, sure, she’s hot, but you ain’t getting me killed just so you can look cool, bro."
• Murmurs of agreement rippled through the crowd. Yeah, why would they risk their lives for some dude playing hero when their opponents clearly didn’t care about consequences? These attackers snapped a rich kid’s arm like it was a breadstick, which meant one thing—they weren’t scared of anyone’s family backing.
• In a simple translation: We are screwed.
• Besides, if Celeste was waiting for a knight in shining armor, she was probably better off saving herself.
• "You dare question my Young Master?" one of Arin’s goons barked before delivering a well-placed punch. The unlucky student folded like an empty wallet, groaning in pain.
• Arin smirked, sneaking another glance at Celeste. She, of course, looked about as impressed as someone watching paint dry.
• Before things could get dumber, a strange buzzing filled the air. It started as a low hum, almost like a swarm of tiny violins playing a horror soundtrack.
• "What now?" Logan muttered, clearly done with today’s nonsense.
• The answer revealed itself in the most horrifying way possible—giant mosquitoes, the size of a clenched fist, swarmed down like tax collectors. Their needle-like proboscises gleamed under the sun, ready to suck pockets no, blood dry.
• One of the proud sons of the heavens, thinking he was untouchable, tried to swat one away. Bad move. The mosquito latched onto his arm like a clingy ex. Within seconds, his skin went pale, his veins darkened, and then plop he was a human raisin.
• Jackson's spine went ice-cold.
• Nope. Nope. Nope. Fck this.*
• "Protect yourselves!" Arin screamed, summoning a storm of lightning. He zapped a few mosquitoes, but for every one that died, ten more took its place, as if they had unlocked the Shadow Clone Jutsu of bloodsucking.
• Fire, ice, and wind attacks clashed with the swarm, turning the battlefield into a chaotic mess.
• Meanwhile, Jackson and Logan kept their survival instincts intact by not engaging.
• They can't be the side characters that die in the first few chapters and wouldn't be remembered. Nope!
• "Stay close," Jackson ordered, ducking behind some rubble.
• Logan nodded, his face the color of expired milk. Sure, he could run fast, but dodging blood-draining death machines? That wasn’t on his resume.
• For three agonizing minutes, the students fought, retreating bit by bit. The only ones making real progress were the fire users, because, apparently, mosquitoes had the same relationship with flames as vampires did with sunlight.
• But even those guys were running out of juice.
• Just when it seemed like all hope was lost, someone probably the first intelligent student in this entire mess shouted, "A tunnel! Over there! We can escape!"
• Like sheep following a shepherd (except this time, the shepherd wasn’t leading them to the slaughterhouse), the students bolted toward the tunnel.
• Survivor count? About 950.
• The unlucky ones? Well… let’s just say they had a very intimate experience with the food chain.
• Inside the tunnel, the atmosphere shifted. The air was damp and cold, the kind of place where horror movies started. The students huddled together, looking like they had all aged ten years.
• "This isn’t over," Jackson muttered, scanning the darkness.
• Logan turned to him, wiping sweat off his forehead. "You think this is just the beginning?"
• Jackson nodded. "Something’s seriously off about this academy… and I don’t think we’ve hit rock bottom yet."
• At first, when the assassins attacked, Jackson had suspected it was some sort of elite hazing ritual—you know, a twisted test from the teachers to see who was worthy.
• After all, they had broken arms, smashed noses, and made everyone bleed… but no one had been stabbed outright.
• But then the mosquitoes came.
• And people actually started dying.
• If this was a test, it was one hell of a lawsuit waiting to happen.
• Hearing Jackson’s words, Logan went silent for a moment before shaking his head. "I can’t believe you actually noticed all that while the rest of us were screaming and running."
• Jackson simply smiled. Of course, he noticed. He’s always been built different.
• Logan exhaled deeply. "I don’t care if this is some sick survival test or a real fight. Either way, we need to last till the end. If this is a drill, we win. If it’s life or death… well, I’d rather be alive than a mosquito’s meal."
• "Same," Jackson said and turn towards Logan with an air of seriousness and said, with straight face, "now is a matter of life and dead. Do you trust me with your life."
• Hearing his words, Logan went silent, he looked at Jackson and took a deep breath as if about to make the toughest decision of his life before answering, "NOPE."