Picking Up Girls With My Pickup System-Chapter 12: The Courtyard Showdown.

The hallways were a river.

As soon as the bell rang, the students poured from every classroom, spilling into the corridors in noisy, surging waves. Backpacks thumped against shoulders, sneakers squeaked against polished tile, laughter echoed sharp and cruel.

And in the middle of it all, Kent Gilbert walked like a man being led to the gallows.

His books weighed like bricks in his bag. His throat was dry, his chest aching with every shallow breath. Sam kept pace at his side, fidgeting with the straps of his hoodie as if he could shield himself from the swarm of bodies around them.

But they couldn’t hide.

Because the whispers had already begun.

"There he is."

"That’s the guy Derek’s gonna flatten."

"No way he shows up. He’ll bail."

"Bet you five bucks he cries before the first punch."

The words slithered through the air, not shouted, but loud enough for Kent to catch. Each one stabbed a little deeper, twisting inside him like blades.

He kept his eyes down, staring at the floor tiles as if memorizing their dull, square patterns could anchor him. But every time his gaze flicked up, he caught faces turning toward him—grins, smirks, pity, hunger.

The crowd wasn’t just moving to the exits anymore. They were moving with purpose. Toward the courtyard.

"Bro," Sam muttered, his voice tight. "This is... way worse than I thought."

"No kidding," Kent whispered back. His mouth was so dry the words cracked in his throat.

The System’s glow pulsed at the edge of his vision, unread yet undeniable. Waiting. Watching.

They reached the stairwell. Students crammed shoulder to shoulder, practically bouncing down the steps in their eagerness. A chant had already started somewhere below. Derek’s name.

"Der-ek! Der-ek! Der-ek!"

Kent stumbled on the second step, gripping the railing so hard his knuckles whitened. He wanted to turn back. Wanted to vanish into the crush of bodies, slip away, disappear into the janitor’s closet and never come out.

But the System wouldn’t let him. He knew it wouldn’t.

He imagined the glowing text appearing if he tried: [Main Mission Abandoned: Reputation Permanently Destroyed.]

Sam noticed his hesitation. "You good?"

Kent gave a strangled laugh. "Do I look good?"

Sam didn’t answer.

The stairwell emptied into the ground floor, and the flow of students pulled them toward the double doors. Beyond them, the afternoon light spilled across the courtyard like the floodlights of an arena.

The chanting grew louder.

"Der-ek! Der-ek!"

Kent’s legs trembled. His palms were slick. His heart hammered like it wanted out of his chest.

And still, he walked.

Because he had no choice.

The courtyard looked nothing like it usually did.

Most days, it was just a stretch of cracked concrete with a couple of benches, some scraggly trees, and students hanging out in little groups.

Today, it was an arena.

Dozens—no, hundreds—of students had crammed into the space. Some stood on the benches, some perched on railings, others crowded shoulder to shoulder around the center, phones already out, screens glowing as they recorded every second.

And in that center—like a gladiator basking in the roar of the coliseum—stood Derek.

Tall. Broad-shouldered. His varsity jacket gleamed red and white in the sunlight, the football patch on his arm practically glowing like a badge of power. His grin was lazy, practiced, the kind of smile that said he’d already won.

His posse ringed him, a wall of sneers and muscle. One of them held Derek’s backpack like an attendant waiting on a king.

The chanting hit its peak as Kent stepped through the doors.

"Der-ek! Der-ek! Der-ek!"

Sam hissed under his breath. "This... this is insane."

Kent couldn’t answer. His throat had closed up, his tongue heavy as stone.

The crowd parted just enough for him to be shoved forward, the current of bodies propelling him into the open space.

And then silence.

Not full silence, but that heavy, crushing kind where whispers seem deafening. Every phone was pointed at him now. Every eye locked on him.

Derek raised his arms slowly, drinking it all in.

"Well, well, well," he drawled. His voice carried easily, trained by years of shouting plays across the field. "Look who actually showed up."

Laughter rippled through the crowd.

Kent stood frozen, sweat dripping down his spine. His legs felt like jelly. He wanted to curl into himself, to disappear—but the System’s glow pulsed harder, brighter.

Ding.

[New Feature Unlocked: Combat Mode.]

Stats Displayed Below:

Strength: 3

Speed: 2

Endurance: 1

Charisma: 5 (???)

[Opponent: Derek Holt. Strength: 12 | Speed: 8 | Endurance: 10.]

Kent’s stomach dropped. It wasn’t even close.

Derek smirked wider. "You ready, loser?"

His friends snickered. Someone in the crowd yelled, "Wreck him, Derek!"

Kent’s voice barely came out. "I... I don’t..."

Derek cupped a hand around his ear. "What’s that? Didn’t hear you."

The crowd laughed again.

Sam leaned in quickly, whispering, "Kent, whatever happens—just stay on your feet, alright? Don’t let him break you in front of everyone."

Easy for him to say.

Kent’s pulse roared in his ears as Derek stepped closer, cracking his knuckles like gunshots.

The arena had chosen its entertainment.

And Kent was the sacrifice.

Derek circled closer, his sneakers squeaking faintly against the concrete. The crowd pressed in, their laughter rolling like distant thunder.

Kent tried to keep still, but his knees wobbled. His fists clenched so tight his nails dug crescents into his palms. He didn’t even realize he was holding his breath until it burned in his chest.

"Well, I’ll give you this much," Derek said, voice carrying easily over the restless murmurs. "You showed up. That’s more balls than I thought you had."

Some of his friends snickered. A girl in the crowd shouted, "Kick his ass already!"

Derek tilted his head, grinning. "Oh, don’t worry. I’ll get there. But first..."

He shoved Kent.

It wasn’t even a punch—just a sudden, sharp push to the chest. Kent staggered backward, stumbling three steps before catching himself. His backpack slipped off one shoulder, dangling uselessly. The crowd roared with laughter.

Kent’s cheeks burned. His body felt heavy, useless. Every instinct screamed run, hide, vanish.

Ding.

[System Prompt: Choose Response.]

Fight Back (Chance of Success: 1%)

Defend (Chance of Success: 10%)

Endure (Chance of Success: 90%)

Kent’s breath hitched. Three glowing options floated in front of his eyes, taunting him.

He looked at Derek, still smirking, still relaxed, like this was a warm-up stretch.

He looked at the crowd, their phones raised, their laughter burning like acid.

He looked at Sam—face pale, eyes wide, lips pressed tight as if begging him to do something.

Kent’s hand twitched at his side.

"What’s the matter, Gilbert?" Derek sneered. "Cat got your tongue? Or are you waiting for me to knock it out of your mouth?"

He shoved Kent again, harder this time. Kent’s back slammed against the rough bark of a courtyard tree. Bark scraped his skin through his shirt.

The crowd howled.

Kent’s chest heaved. Sweat stung his eyes.

Ding.

[Warning: Failure to Respond Will Result in Automatic Reputation Loss.]

His eyes locked on the glowing options again. None of them promised victory. Only degrees of humiliation.

Sam’s voice reached him, barely a whisper over the crowd: "Don’t fold, man. Whatever you do—don’t just fold."

Kent’s fingers curled into trembling fists.

The System pulsed, awaiting his choice.

Kent’s throat clicked as he swallowed. His trembling fingers hovered, invisible to everyone else, over the glowing System options.

Endure (90%).

It was the safest choice. But safe still meant losing.

"Tick-tock, loser." Derek’s grin widened. He raised his fist lazily, like swatting a fly. "You gonna do something? Or should I get this party started?"

Kent’s chest clenched. His whole body screamed to run, but the System pulsed harder—waiting, demanding.

His vision blurred, heart slamming in his ears. Finally, his mind broke and chose.

Endure.

Ding.

[Choice Confirmed: Endure.]

Derek didn’t wait.

His fist slammed into Kent’s jaw.

It wasn’t like in the movies—no slow-motion spin, no neat little grunt. It was a violent, ugly explosion of pain that shot fire through his skull. His teeth rattled, coppery blood burst across his tongue, and the courtyard tilted sideways.

The crowd erupted.

"OHHHHHHH!"

Phones shot higher into the air, cameras capturing Kent as he staggered. He barely caught himself before collapsing, his hand clutching his face.

[Health -10.]

[Remaining: 90%.]

Kent’s knees buckled. He spat—red smeared across the pavement.

Derek laughed, loud and sharp. "That all you got, Gil-bitch?"

His friends echoed, jeering, clapping Derek on the back as if he’d scored a touchdown.

Kent’s vision pulsed black at the edges. His body throbbed, every nerve screaming.

And then the System chimed again.

[Pain Multiplier Active: All Combat Pain Registered at 150% for Training Efficiency.]

Kent’s stomach dropped. "What—what the hell—"

Agony flared through his jaw, worse than before. He dropped to one knee with a strangled groan.

The crowd went wild, mistaking his collapse for weakness.

"Get up, loser!" someone shouted.

"Stay down, it’ll hurt less!" another laughed.

Sam stood frozen at the edge of the circle, horror etched across his face.

Kent’s teeth clenched, blood dribbling from the corner of his mouth. He forced himself upright, legs quaking.

Ding.

[New Prompt: Fight Back (Success Chance: 5%).]

[Defend (Success Chance: 15%).]

[Endure (Success Chance: 85%).]

The glowing words floated again, waiting.

Kent swayed, chest heaving, every bone in his body begging him to give up.

But the crowd’s laughter burned. Derek’s smirk burned hotter.

And deep down, something twisted—something raw, something ugly.

For the first time, Kent wanted to hit back.

Kent’s head pounded. Blood dripped warm and sticky from the corner of his mouth, the metallic taste flooding his tongue.

He could hear the crowd, a constant roar of voices, laughter, jeers—but it all blurred into background noise.

Only one sound cut clear through the chaos:

Ding.

[Choose Response.]

Fight Back (5%)

Defend (15%)

Endure (85%)

Kent’s chest heaved, each breath sharp and ragged. His vision wavered on Derek, who was still smirking, still basking in the attention like a king before execution.

"Come on, man," Derek taunted. "Don’t make this too easy. Swing at me. Do something. Hell, make me sweat a little."

His friends chuckled. The crowd buzzed, some chanting again, others egging Derek on to finish it.

Kent’s trembling hand curled tighter into a fist.

Endure. That was the safe choice. Safe meant living through it. Safe meant walking away—bruised, humiliated, but alive.

But alive wasn’t enough.

Not when every phone was recording. Not when every sneer carved into his skin deeper than Derek’s punch. Not when Lena was probably watching this somewhere, maybe laughing with the rest.

His knuckles whitened. His heart thundered.

Ding.

[Override Triggered: Emotional Surge Detected.]

[’Fight Back’ Chance Increased: 5% → 20%.]

Kent’s eyes widened. Twenty percent. Still terrible odds, but... not impossible.

Something inside him snapped.

"Fine," Kent rasped, voice raw.

Derek tilted his head. "What was that?"

Kent spat blood at his shoes. "I said—fine."

Gasps rippled through the crowd. A few students laughed nervously, others leaning forward, phones trembling with anticipation.

Derek blinked, then grinned, amused. "Oh, this I gotta see."

Kent didn’t wait.

He lunged.

His fist shot out, wild and clumsy, fueled not by skill but by raw, ugly desperation. It cracked against Derek’s cheekbone—not hard, not clean, but enough to make his head snap sideways.

The courtyard exploded.

"WHAT?!"

"Holy shit, he hit him!"

"Did you see that?!"

Phones jerked higher, capturing every second.

Derek staggered a step, his grin faltering for the first time. He touched his cheek, blinking in disbelief.

Kent stood panting, chest heaving, fist throbbing with pain. His whole body screamed at him to collapse, but the System’s glow pulsed brighter, hotter, feeding on the act.

[Achievement Unlocked: First Strike.]

[Reward: +1 Strength.]

Kent’s heart lurched. Strength? His body buzzed faintly, like a current sparking through his veins.

The crowd roared, the energy flipping in an instant—no longer pure mockery, but shock, excitement, chaos.

Derek’s grin returned, sharper, darker now. He cracked his neck slowly, eyes locked on Kent with new fire.

"Oh," he said, voice low and dangerous. "You’re dead."

The courtyard trembled with cheers.

And Kent realized he had just thrown himself into a storm far bigger than he’d ever imagined.