Kael stood facing the wall.

  He stretched his neck, then his fingers, calmly. He asked the instructor:

  “And what do I actually get if I manage to climb all the way to the top?”

  She put on a disdainful smile.

  “You’ll get a twenty out of twenty if you succeed.”

  I don’t know what a twenty out of twenty is… but if she’s offering it, it must be worth something, he thought.

  “That should be more than enough motivation. And if you fail, you’ll have to—”

  She didn’t have time to finish her sentence.

  Kael cut her off without even looking at her:

  “I won’t fail. Don’t bother.”

  Comments burst out from around the room:

  “Did you see the way he talks to the teacher?”

  “Who does this guy think he is?”

  “What insolence!”

  The instructor was seething. Her face, already far from harmonious, was now twisted with anger.

  Kael stepped forward. The instructor called out to him one last time, her voice charged with defiance:

  “At least take this.”

  She held out a small pouch filled with white powder.

  “If you fall, it’ll come back on me,” she added.

  Kael stopped and glanced at her briefly.

  “And what exactly is it?”

  She sighed, exasperated:

  “You claim you can climb an 8A and you don’t even know what chalk is? Put some on your hands. It’ll keep you from slipping.”

  He plunged his hands into the pouch, rubbed them together, and coated his palms with the powder.

  Then he slapped his cheeks twice.

  And without another word, he launched himself upward.

  “I’m not going to belay you,” the instructor announced coldly.

  “Consider it your punishment for your insolence and lack of respect.”

  She shrugged.

  “Anyway, Judging by the way you look, you won’t get very high. So the fall won’t be dramatic.”

  Kael didn’t answer.

  He didn’t attack the wall like an acrobat.

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  He didn’t leap at it like some storybook hero.

  No.

  He climbed with precision. With logic. With method.

  Every hold seemed planned, anticipated. His body followed a pattern he didn’t even need to put into words. No hesitation. No pause. He read the wall like a familiar text, his movements fluid and controlled—as if he had done this his entire life. Not with the flair of a prodigy, but with the steady consistency of a well-trained soldier.

  In the gym, reactions quickly erupted:

  “Wait, he’s climbing without a belay?!”

  “This is intense, man.”

  “Is he trying to kill himself or what?”

  Jeff, arms crossed, looking proud:

  “That’s my friend, Kael.”

  “He doesn’t say much, but he’s not joking around.”

  A small group of girls sitting near the wall couldn’t take their eyes off him. One of them whispered:

  “He’s insanely muscular…”

  “Look at his back when he climbs. It’s like it was sculpted.”

  “And his arms… no way he’s a high schooler.”

  Meanwhile, Kael kept climbing.

  He moved through the technical sections with ease. He slipped once—but caught himself with a single hand, his body hanging there, perfectly balanced.

  A shiver ran through the students.

  The instructor, who had remained with her arms crossed at first, frowned. She moved closer to the wall, her posture falsely nonchalant.

  “So, how’s it going up there?” she called out mockingly.

  Kael didn’t answer. He kept climbing—focused, unshaken.

  His footholds grew smaller and smaller. He was moving fast. Too fast.

  The instructor frowned. A vein pulsed at her temple. She glanced at her attendance sheet, then at the wall, then at Kael.

  Higher still.

  Still without a rope.

  Still fluid.

  She began to genuinely panic.

  “Kael!” she shouted. “Come down!”

  “You’re not belayed!”

  “It’s dangerous, do you hear me?”

  Kael stopped, one hand resting on a hold, the other hanging in empty space. He slowly turned his head toward her.

  He was several meters above the ground now.

  He stared down at her.

  A smile slowly stretched across his lips. A cruel smile. Cold.

  As if to say:

  So this is it? I’m supposed to fall from high enough now?

  The instructor took a step back.

  She said nothing more.

  Kael resumed his ascent.

  Down below, the instructor kept staring at him, taut as a drawn bowstring. Shouting at him to stop? Unthinkable.

  At this height, a single word could be enough to distract him—to make him fall. And she knew it.

  With every meter he gained, her silence grew heavier.

  He was too high now.

  No turning back.

  But Kael kept climbing.

  Just as precise. Just as fluid.

  He looked neither down nor up.

  He climbed as if only the present existed.

  As if the fall, fear, or even effort did not exist.

  When he finally reached the top, a shiver ran through the gym. He grabbed the metal bar, held it with both hands… and then, as if that weren’t enough, sat down on it.

  Up there, balanced, Kael rubbed his fingers together.

  Below, the students were stunned.

  Some of the boys let out admiring breaths.

  The girls stared without blinking.

  Even a few other PE teachers, busy running their own classes, had stopped to watch what was happening. Every eye was fixed on the lone boy on an 8A wall—without a rope, without fear.

  Jeff was ecstatic:

  “See? I told you! That’s my friend! That’s Kael!”

  Applause began to break out. Hesitant at first, then louder and louder. Students clapped, some standing, others gaping.

  The PE teacher, her face pale and slick with sweat, shouted:

  “Don’t move up there!”

  “I’m coming to get you!”

  She grabbed a rope and rushed to a climbing harness. She clipped herself in quickly, her fingers barely steady. Carabiners snapped shut, metal loops lining up on her belt.

  But Kael had already started to come down.

  Just as calm.

  Just as precise.

  Total silence filled the gym.

  Climbing up was impressive.

  Coming down without a belay… that was madness.

  With every inverted hold he grabbed, a small cry escaped the instructor’s lips. Her hands covered her mouth, sweat pouring down her face. Every one of Kael’s movements twisted her stomach.

  But Kael… did not tremble.

  He descended with the same serenity as a walker strolling down a gentle slope.

  At two meters above the ground, he let go.

  His landing was clean. Controlled.

  He bent his knees slightly, straightened up…

  And without the slightest hesitation, he extended his hand toward the instructor.

  A victorious smile hovered on his face.

  “So… where’s my twenty out of twenty?”