Master of Wild – Chapter 1: The Quiet One
It was a dull afternoon, the kind that seemed to smother the world in a haze of indifference. The air hung heavy with the scent of chalk dust and stale sweat — a familiar perfume that clung to the walls of Class 7E like an unwanted guest.
At the back of the room, by the window, Jack sat in silence. His gaze drifted lazily to the sky, watching the faint dance of clouds beyond the glass. He neither fidgeted nor spoke — merely existed, a quiet shadow lost in the noise of the world.
The whispers followed him like a scent, clinging to him no matter where he went.
"He's too quiet..."
"I swear he's planning something..."
"Probably has a knife in his bag... or a gun..."
They feared him — not because of what they knew, but because of what they didn't. Jack wasn't a genius, nor a delinquent, nor a loner with some tragic backstory. He was just... there. Quiet. Ordinary. Unpredictable. And that terrified them.
He knew their stories — the half-truths and twisted rumors that painted him as some phantom lurking in the corners of their lives. But Jack never tried to stop them. He simply watched, and listened, and waited.
---
It was later that evening, when the house lay still and empty, that Jack found himself sprawled across the living room couch. The muted glow of the television flickered across his face, flashing glimpses of half-forgotten faces and meaningless advertisements. His parents were absent — lost somewhere in their endless cycle of work and exhaustion. He had grown used to their absence.
The remote clicked idly in his hand. Channel after channel blurred past — colors without meaning, voices without purpose.
Click.
"New flavor of chips — Spicy Fire Blast!"
Click.
"Lose weight in just 10 days!"
Click.
The screen shifted. Darkness swallowed the frame — a void punctuated by flickers of flame and shadow. Shapes moved within it — swift figures darting through streets, scaling walls, and fighting in smoke-choked rooms. A masked figure stood at the center of the chaos, wrapped in silence yet commanding all attention.
"Be the Jack of all traits... but the Master of Wild."
The voice was low and deliberate, each word cutting like a blade. The masked figure stared directly at the screen — directly at him — and for a moment, Jack felt certain the figure could see him.
"Dare to break free."
The screen cut to black.
Jack blinked, the silence of the room suddenly deafening. Something cold stirred within him — not quite fear, not quite excitement — but something else.
He heard the words repeat in his head:
Be the Jack of all traits... but the Master of Wild...
For the rest of the night, those words clung to him, gnawing at his thoughts like an itch he couldn't scratch.
---
The next day brought violence.
It came, as violence often does, from a coward — someone who mistook cruelty for strength.
Ray, a boy whose voice carried the weight of a hundred empty threats, had been waiting. He caught Jack in the alley behind the school, flanked by two others who wore their grins like masks.
"Hey, freak," Ray sneered. His voice slithered across the air, heavy with the smugness of someone convinced they had already won.
Jack barely glanced at him. "Go home."
Ray chuckled — the kind of laugh people force when they're too stupid to know they should be afraid. "You think you're better than me?"
Jack turned fully now, his eyes steady. "I think you should leave."
Ray's smile faltered, but pride is a dangerous thing. He reached out and shoved Jack hard in the chest.
"Say somethin', psycho!"
For a moment, the air seemed to pause — stretched thin between violence and regret.
Jack sighed. His hands trembled — not from fear, but from something else.
Be the Jack of all traits... but the Master of Wild.
The words slithered back into his thoughts, whispering like smoke in his mind.
"You should've walked away," Jack muttered.
Ray smirked, stepping closer.
Something snapped.
Jack's arm shot forward, seizing Ray's wrist. His fingers coiled like steel, twisting the boy's arm until bone strained beneath flesh.
Ray's grin shattered into a cry of pain. His knees buckled, and for the first time, Jack saw fear in his eyes — raw and real.
And yet... it wasn't enough.
"You should've walked away," Jack repeated, his voice cold and low.
But this time, he didn't stop.
His other hand shot upward, fingers locking around Ray's face. The pressure built beneath his thumbs — a sickening warmth blooming under his skin. Ray screamed, but Jack's grip only tightened.
Be the Master of Wild...
For the briefest moment, Jack felt powerful — like something ancient and primal had awakened within him. His heart pounded faster, yet his mind felt calm — calm enough to know exactly what he was doing.
He pressed harder.
Then, like a switch being flicked off, Jack let go.
Ray dropped to the ground, sobbing and clutching his face. Blood trickled from his swollen eyelids — a red mask of agony.
Jack's hands shook — but not from fear.
No... this was something else. Something darker.
---
The following day at school, no one dared to speak to him. Conversations died when he entered the room. Faces turned away when he passed by. Even the teacher pretended not to see him.
But in that silence, Jack heard something new — something satisfying.
For the first time, the whispers had stopped.
No one called him a freak anymore. No one whispered about knives or guns.
But they still feared him — not because of what he might do... but because of what he already had.
And in that silence, Jack felt something stirring deep inside him — something wild, something unpredictable.
He didn't know what it was yet.
But he knew one thing for certain.
He wanted more.