LGHTNOVELBOOK Chapter 85: König
The fluorescent lights of the school hallway hummed a dreary tune, a stark contrast to the thundering roar of a battlefield I'd become so accustomed to. But here I was, back in my old stomping ground, staring at the faded blue lockers that used to house textbooks and teenage angst. My hands, calloused from years of gripping weapons, felt strangely out of place holding a flimsy combination lock. I was König, a ghost on the field, a force of calculated violence. And now? I was just… me, but younger. Back in that gawky, awkward body that felt foreign, like ill-fitting armor.
The scent of stale pizza and gym socks assaulted my nose, a far cry from the acrid tang of gunpowder and burning metal. It was disorienting, this sudden shift. One moment I was planning a midnight raid, the next I was navigating crowds of kids with braces and backpacks. The sheer noise was almost unbearable – the high-pitched chatter, the shrieks of laughter, the rhythmic thump of sneakers on the linoleum. My senses, honed for survival, were on high alert, reading every flicker of movement, every shift in tone. It was a battlefield of its own kind, a chaotic dance of hormones and insecurities.
My reflection in the glass of a trophy case was jarring. Gone were the battle scars, the haunted look in my eyes. Instead, a boy stared back, a boy with a rounder face and a tentative smile that hadn't been seen in decades. He looked… vulnerable. And that, more than anything, felt wrong.
The first bell screeched, startling me out of my reverie. I found my old schedule, a relic from a life I barely remembered, listing classes like "Algebra II" and "American Literature." The words seemed abstract, almost laughable compared to the languages and codenames that now dictated my days. I had to remind myself that this wasn't a mission. This wasn't a test of skill or strategy. This was… school. Again.
My first class, biology, was a slow-motion torture. Dissecting a frog felt like a twisted joke. I'd disassembled complex weaponry with a surgeon's precision, but the delicate organs of this amphibian made me acutely aware of the fragility of life, a concept I'd buried deep within myself long ago. The other students kept glancing at me, whispering, their eyes wide with a mix of curiosity and unease. I could sense their apprehension, a subtle tremor in the air, the same way I felt when an enemy was just around the corner.
Lunch was worse. The cafeteria was a cacophony of noise and movement. I found myself leaning against a wall, watching the teenagers in their little cliques. There were the jocks, loud and boasting, the nerds huddled over books, the goths skulking in the shadows. It was a strange sort of hierarchy, built on popularity and perceived coolness. I tried to remember where I fit in this world, this forgotten teenage landscape. And then I realized, I didn't. I was an anomaly, a ghost from a future they couldn't possibly imagine.
That afternoon, in history class, the teacher droned on about World War II, dates and battles echoing through the room. I knew the names, of course. I knew the weight of those wars, the sacrifices made. But hearing them spoken about here, in this classroom, felt distant. They were lessons learned from textbooks. For me, they were lived experiences, the echoes of my current life. The disconnect was palpable, a chasm that separated me from these kids, from this time.
As the day dragged on, I tried to blend in, to become invisible. But my hardened gaze, the quiet intensity that had become a part of me, betrayed my efforts. I was different, and everyone knew it. As I walked home, the setting sun painting the sky in hues of orange and purple, I realized that I couldn't go back. I couldn't be this boy again. I couldn't unsee the things I'd seen, unfeel the burden I carried.
This journey back hadn't been about reliving the past. It was a stark reminder of how much I had changed, of the man I'd become. And somehow, amidst the jarring cacophony of my old high school, I found a strange sort of peace. I was König, a soldier, a survivor. I was a man with a past, but now it was only a distant memory, and I had a future to fight for, even when I was back in the present, back on a field that I knew all too well. And in the quiet hum of the present, I knew that the past was exactly where it should stay.