“Nothing major.” Logan Brooks's slightly chubby face, dotted with a few pimples, broke into an indescribably sleazy grin. “Just need a small favor from you.”

　　“A small favor?”

　　“Rudy Brooks from Class 2 is arm wrestling with the boys from our class. Everyone else has lost…”

　　“Rudy Brooks?” Gavin Brooks suddenly stopped in his tracks, forcefully pulled his arm out of Logan Brooks's hands, and shook his head repeatedly. “The warrior track, first-year Class 2’s mad bull Rudy Brooks?”

　　Logan Brooks nodded and reached out again to grab Gavin Brooks's arm. “That’s right, it’s that big guy Rudy Brooks.”

　　“Are you kidding? No way!”

　　Gavin Brooks turned to leave at once, secretly wondering if his friend’s brain had been smacked silly by Rudy Brooks.

　　Who was Rudy Brooks? At Auckland Academy, mad bull Rudy Brooks was a well-known figure. Among all the first-year warrior students, in terms of pure strength, he was universally recognized as one of the top three.

　　Even among the second-year warrior students, many couldn’t match him in sheer strength.

　　Although Gavin Brooks had never arm wrestled Rudy Brooks himself, he knew very well that, in terms of raw power, facing the burly Rudy Brooks—who was bigger than most adults—would only be asking for a beating.

　　Just a few days ago, he’d been unlucky enough to get caught up in that so-called “crime of appearance” incident. Gavin Brooks had no desire to get humiliated by the mad bull again while the aftermath was still lingering.

　　“Gavin Brooks, Gavin Brooks…” Logan Brooks chased after Gavin Brooks, calling out, “Hey, you’re at least a student praised by Teacher Rodney Brooks. Are you really afraid of mad bull Rudy Brooks?”

　　“Afraid?” Gavin Brooks stopped and looked at his friend’s chubby face, then patted him on the shoulder. “Honestly, if you gave me and mad bull Rudy Brooks each a stick and let us spar, I could fight him single-handedly while he uses both hands, and I guarantee I’d beat him silly—he wouldn’t know which way is up for the rest of his life. Or, if you gave me a knife, even if there were two Rudy Brookss, the result would be the same: I’d take him out! But if it’s just arm wrestling, that kind of dumb brute strength contest, you’re right—I really can’t beat him.”

　　In the long corridor, Logan Brooks looked at Gavin Brooks with a hint of helplessness. He knew Gavin Brooks was right, but the problem was, all the other boys in Class 1 had already been beaten by mad bull Rudy Brooks in arm wrestling.

　　Now, the only one in Class 1 who hadn’t competed was Gavin Brooks.

　　At this point, winning or losing didn’t matter to Class 1 anymore. What really mattered was not losing so badly that they didn’t even have the guts to compete.

　　“Logan Brooks, you’d better find someone else. If mad bull ever wants a real fight, just call me—I promise I’ll make him the ugliest guy in all of Auckland Academy.” Gavin Brooks tossed out the words, turned, and left, shaking his head and sighing. “Arm wrestling? You guys with all that energy should try being broke like me! I’m still racking my brains over where to find money for a bedsheet, and you’re wasting your strength on pointless arm wrestling.”

　　“Bedsheet?” Logan Brooks's drooping ears suddenly perked up, and he caught up with Gavin Brooks in two quick steps, slapping him on the shoulder. “Gavin Brooks, you need money for a bedsheet, right? Then why not arm wrestle? There’s a bet on this match—if you lose, I’ll cover the money, but if you win, it’s all yours, how about that?”

　　A bet? Win? Money? Gavin Brooks's determined stride suddenly froze as if hit by a petrification spell. His mind spun rapidly: If I win, I get money; if I lose, at worst I just embarrass myself. I already made a fool of myself a few days ago with that “crime of appearance” thing—what’s a little more embarrassment? Besides, maybe mad bull is already tired from arm wrestling so many people, and I might get lucky. If I win, I’ll have enough for a bedsheet.

　　“Remember what you said—if I win, all the money is mine.”

　　With that, Gavin Brooks strode quickly into the dorm room—not because he was eager to make money, but because he was afraid of giving mad bull too much time to rest and recover, which would make his chances of winning even slimmer.

　　“Well? Another one? Looks like this is the last guy from Class 1, right? Aren’t you that unlucky guy with the ‘crime of appearance’? What, still not embarrassed enough? You want our Rudy Brooks to humiliate you again before you’re satisfied?”

　　On the bed closest to the door sat a student from Warrior Class 2, with a sharp, monkey-like face and a tone so cutting that Gavin Brooks wanted to grab a stick and make him the second ugliest guy in Auckland Academy.

　　The other beds in the room erupted in laughter, while several Class 1 students who’d been dragged in by Logan Brooks looked at Gavin Brooks with a bit of dejection.

　　Having been classmates for less than a year, everyone knew what Gavin Brooks was capable of. He was definitely among the top ten first-year warriors in real combat, but when it came to brute strength, out of 150 warrior students, it was questionable whether Gavin Brooks could even make the top fifty.

Chapter 7: Have Some Guts!