The system king

The fall of professor Mallard

The auditorium was filled with the a soft melodious song. Young minds dressed in pressed suits, industry moguls seated beside eager students, and cameras positioned to catch every angle of the prestigious National Youth Innovation Summit.

Aiden Cross stepped onto the polished university stage in a navy-blue tailored suite.

Five years ago, he wouldn’t have been allowed past the library’s luxurious door. Today, he returned not as a student, but as a revolutionary entrepreneur. Its all thanks to the system that changed his fate.

“Mission Update: Academic Reckoning,” the system buzzed in his ear, a calm voice overlayed the digital interface.

“Target: Professor Arnold Mallard. Objective: Public exposure and academic justice.”

Aiden’s jaw tightened slightly.

Professor Mallard had been a respected lecturer with a dubious way of handling things. Years ago, Aiden had submitted a business model for a decentralized logistics app aimed at boosting small businesses in underfunded regions. Mallard did not only fail him, claiming the model lacked “scalability” but months later, Aiden found out that very concept was published in a university journal. Under another student’s name which was the most annoying it.

Today, the past would answer.

The summit host approached the podium, “Our next speaker is a rising mogul in the startup world. Please welcome the founder of NovaArc Systems… Mr. Aiden Cross!”

The hall erupted in polite applause, many unsure of who he was. On the side of the stage, Professor Arnold Mallard stood stiffly in a burgundy tweed jacket. His glasses perched high with an unreadable expression. He hadn’t recognized the name due to too many former students to count. And too many he had wronged.

Aiden strode forward, took the mic, and offered a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Thank you,” he began with a steady voice. “It’s surreal being back here. The place where I once dreamed of building something meaningful only to have those dreams stolen from me.”

A murmur rippled through the crowd. Mallard furrowed his brows slightly, turning to glance at the student organizers.

Aiden continued. “Before I begin my keynote, I’d like to address something far more important than entrepreneurship. I’d like to speak about integrity.”

With a flick of his wrist, he triggered the presentation remote. The giant screen behind him buzzed to life. First appeared Aiden’s original thesis document: “Adaptive Market Disruption Through Decentralized Logistics.”

Then came side-by-side comparisons, Aiden’s proposal and the plagiarized journal article. It was the same charts, same language and the same algorithm flow. Only the author’s name was changed to a favored honors student, under the ‘guidance’ of Professor Arnold Mallard.

The room gasped.

Professor Mallard’s face drained of color.

“This,” Aiden said with his voice now sharpened like a blade, “was the work I submitted in my final year. Not only was I failed, humiliated, and denied graduation... but my work was stolen, published under someone else's name by a man trusted to guide future innovators, Professor Mallard.”

Mallard stammered and took a step forward. “This is…this is absurd.” He stammered.

But before he could continue, the Dean of Academics, a stern woman in her sixties, rose from the VIP seats.

“Is this true?” she asked Mallard with a voice so tight with barely-contained fury. “Is this your doing?”

“I…I don’t remember this case! Maybe it’s a misunderstanding. Students plagiarize all the time. He could’ve…”

Aiden interrupted, turning to the screen again. “Let’s clear the confusion.”

With another click, surveillance footage rolled. One of the system’s recent acquisitions. It was a hidden video clips from a data recovery Aiden orchestrated weeks prior. In it, Mallard could be seen discussing with a fellow faculty member about “burying an ambitious student’s project” and “giving it to someone who could make the school look good.”

The crowd exploded in shocked murmurs. Students pulled out phones and faculty members stared in disbelief.

Mallard backed away from the center aisle as if the stage itself had betrayed him.

The Dean didn’t wait. She turned to two security officers nearby. “Escort him to the tribunal office immediately. His access is revoked. Effective now.”

“No…wait! I gave that student a chance! It wasn’t his alone! He didn’t even complete the simulation section…”

“You mean this one?” Aiden clicked again, revealing the final simulation segment. An appendix Mallard had deliberately left out in the published version. Aiden had recovered it through a system-forged backup hidden in university servers. It was watermarked and dated.

Mallard’s legs gave out as he collapsed into a chair with sweat pouring down his face.

By the end of the summit session, the news was everywhere. “Top University Professor Accused of Plagiarism,” “Entrepreneur Aiden Cross Exposes Academic Theft in Shocking Presentation,” “Dean Calls for Systemic Review.”

The university tribunal didn’t drag its feet. Within forty-eight hours, Mallard was fired, publicly disgraced, and blacklisted from every teaching institution in the country. His tenure was revoked. His journal articles retracted. And the student he gave the credit to? He publicly apologized and confessed, stating he was pressured by Mallard to accept the submission.

As for Aiden?

The journal issued a full retraction and published the original paper under his rightful name, highlighting it as "visionary academic work ahead of its time."

……..

Later that evening, Aiden sat atop a rooftop bar overlooking the glittering skyline. The city buzzed beneath him, but inside, he felt calm for the first time in years.

“Mission Complete: Academic Reckoning,” the system intoned.

“Reputation +3. Influence +4. Network: Academic Institutions unlocked.”

A soft chime followed. “New Target Identified. Name: Gregory Lawton, Former Investment Manager. Location: Arcadia Financial District.”

Aiden’s jaw tightened. It was another person from his past who was coming back into the light.

But before he could contemplate the next mission, the system flickered again with a quieter message.

“Personal Note Unlocked: You’ve reclaimed your voice. Your ideas are no longer buried. Proceed, tycoon.”

He closed his eyes, letting the wind rush over him.

The climb was far from over.