7 Battle Academy [6]

So, is that it? After all this waiting, the big moment of revelation and… nothing. No super strength, no x-ray vision, not even a measly party trick. Here I am, in the midst of a parade of walking wonders, and what do I have to show for it? A collection of disappointments and a sense of humor that not even my grandmother would find funny.

It's a joke, and it seems like I'm the punchline. Everyone around me can fly, shoot lasers from their eyes, or talk to squirrels, and me? I have the incredible ability to be absolutely… ordinary. Bravo, universe, you really know how to crush an ego.

I know, I know, 'everyone is special in their own way', blah, blah, blah. But let's be honest, when you're surrounded by people who can literally bend reality, being 'different' isn't exactly a consolation. It's more like being the last to be picked for the superhero team. And that hurts more than taking a punch from the Hulk.

And now, this revelation leaves me with a mental itch I can't ignore: How on earth did Nam-Sam get into the battle academy? Better yet, how did he end up at the academy for gifted youngsters? It's like a fish learning to fly or a dog starting to talk. It just doesn't fit.

Nam-Sam, the guy who was supposed to be just a background character, an irrelevant extra in the vast tapestry of heroes and villains, now presents himself as an enigma. He carries a certain "mystery" that makes me question everything. Is he a walking plot hole, a glitch in the matrix that no one has noticed? Or is he proof that not all power comes with a show of lights and explosions?

He's out of place, a puzzle piece that doesn't fit, but you can't help but try to make it fit.

***

And me? Well, I was there, making small talk with Peter, the kind of instructor who makes you wonder if "irresponsible" is really enough to describe him. "Your regeneration is too fast," he said, as if commenting on the weather outside. "If I were you, I'd hide that. It might be your ace in the hole, since you're hard to… die."

I just nodded my head, pretending it was some kind of ancient wisdom, while he noticed the pistols in my holster. "You fight with firearms?" He asked, with the tone of someone who had just found a unicorn. "How intriguing…"

"Oh, that?" I replied, adjusting my holster. "I feel more at home with them than with katanas and daggers. They don't have superpowers, but they never let me down."

"I see… Now that everything is okay and you're well, go back to the line so we can continue with today's activity. By the way, you're not going to duel today, okay?" Peter said, pulling me back to reality with a jolt.

I nodded, hiding my relief. "Great, at least I won't have to face anyone today." Inside, I was doing a victory dance.

Neo gave me a look that mixed concern and curiosity with suspicion. "Isn't he going to the infirmary?" he wondered, not knowing that my regeneration had already taken care of my wound. But seeing me with an expression of someone who just came out of a spa, he assumed I was more than fine, which was strange.

Jade, with a gesture, dismissed her shadow soldiers and commanded, "Let's go." And so, we headed towards one of the battle academy's arenas, a stone rectangle that promised to be the stage for epic confrontations.

The opposite stands quickly filled up with students eager for the show. I chose a spot at the front, avoiding the need to climb the steps and, more importantly, avoiding the stand where Viktor was.

Whispers and glances in my direction, the bread and butter of post-school fight gossip. I was the center of attention, but not the main star. No, that role was reserved for Neo and Viktor, the titans of our little academic coliseum. Their confrontation was what fueled the gossip, even without a single punch thrown.

Neo, with his knowledge of the future, saw Viktor as nothing more than a piece of trash with legs. And Viktor? Well, he probably thought the same about Neo.

And the other giants of our arena? Taiho the top 4, Say the top 5, and Jade the top 3, the heavyweights of the ranking, each with their own aura of power. It didn't matter that they were in different positions in the hierarchy; the difference between them was as small as the line that separates predators from prey. They were the elite, the ones who made the rookies tremble and the veterans nod with respect.

But even among these lions, Neo stood out. He was not just a fighter; he was a visionary, a genius of the modern era with the wisdom of a future only he knew. He had something no one else had: the experience of someone who has lived all this before, who knows the end of the story. And that, my friends, is a superpower that not even I, with my pistols and quick regeneration, can compete with.

Sighing, I reflected: "I thought I could stay away from the main cast, but it seems that won't be an easy task."

Lost in my thoughts, the buzz around me seemed distant, until a voice brought me back to reality.

"Are you okay?"

The question caught me off guard; it was the first time someone cared enough to ask. I turned my head and there he was, Neo sitting next to me, his eyes fixed on the stone arena where Peter seemed ready to announce the day's duels.

I stared at him, surprised. The character I had created was there, by my side, alive and breathing.

"Hmm," Neo turned to me, an eyebrow raised. "Can you speak?" He joked.

The irony of the situation did not escape me. The creator and the creation, face to face, and he questioning my ability to speak. I could have laughed, but there was something in that sentiment that made me hesitate. It was as if he knew more than he should, as if he could see through the facade I presented to the world.

"Of course I can," I replied, trying to stay calm. "I was just… thinking." My words sounded more defensive than I intended, but it was hard to keep my composure when one of your own characters surprises you like that.

Neo gave me one of those looks that say more than words, and I knew he was putting the pieces together. "I see," he said, with a half-smile that didn't reach his eyes. "But then, is your wrist already better?"

I shrugged, trying to appear uninterested. "Let's just say the injury wasn't that serious," I replied, keeping my voice neutral.

He tilted his head, analytical. "Strange… I could swear your wrist was completely burned. The blood circulating in that area, evaporated," he commented, as if talking about the weather.

I could feel the weight of his suspicion, heavy as the air before a storm. "But anyway," he continued, extending his hand. "My name is Neo."

It was a decisive moment, one of those where you choose to reveal or hide who you are. I shook his hand, feeling the firmness of his grip. "Nice to meet you, Neo," I said. "And yes, my wrist is better. Let's just say I have… a good recovery ability."

Neo nodded, as if that confirmed his suspicions, but said nothing more. He just returned his gaze to the arena, where the future unfolded, a future he might already know.