"The returner" indeed sounds like a tale brimming with irony and despair. In this future, the so-called anomalies thought reversing God's work was a good idea. They create a weapon, thanks to our "friend" Drew Wess—a name that sounds like someone who wasn't the life of the party—that nullifies the evolved's superpowers. Poof! Goodbye, special abilities. Hello, existential crisis!
Then what? The apocalypse of the evolved begins. A real clearance sale of superpowers, all because of a scientific toy. The heroes, once saviors of the day, are now nothing more than punching bags for villains with this new weapon. And Neo, our protagonist—what a name, right? It makes you think of choices, red and blue pills… But anyway, he's one of the last with superpowers, about to be erased from existence, and what happens? He wakes up on a time travel journey, "Back to the Future" style, but without the DeLorean. Ten years in the past, during the good old days of the Battle Academy.
So, Neo, what will you do? The icing on the cake, the big twist that drives everyone crazy. You have the knife and the cheese in hand, or rather, the future of the evolved. Drew Wess, the guy you have to wipe off the map to save the caped crowd. But wait, Drew isn't a twirling mustache villain; he's just a guy who lost everything. Family taken away by a bar fight among the superpowered.
So, what's more heroic? Erasing Drew and saving the day? Or attempting the harder play, preventing the guy's personal tragedy and showing that not every evolved is a walking disaster? Neo, my buddy, realized this is his chance to show that being a hero is more than just throwing punches and flying. It's about making the tough choices.
Oh, and the chaos, the hallmark of any good time travel story. "The Regressor" wouldn't be any different, right? So here's a Tom Holland-style spoiler: Not everything went as planned. Surprise, surprise! When you mess with time, time messes with you. Neo might have thought he had everything under control, but the universe has a pretty twisted sense of humor. And when you think you're tying a knot in the timeline, it might just end up hanging you with it.
***
And to the Battle Academy, where high school meets the Coliseum. Here, the youth with superpowers not only survive algebra tests but also the law of the jungle. Cruel? Perhaps. But it's what makes them legends.
The academy's fame is no joke. They shape the greatest heroes, the celebrities who save the world before lunch and post about it on Instagram in the afternoon.
With 1500 students, 1000 of them in the first year, the competition is fiercer than a reality show. Want to advance to the second year? Better be in the top 500. And how do you climb the ranks? Simple: defeat those ahead of you. It's nothing personal, it's just the path to glory.
And me, at rank 230? I'm in the comfort zone, but it's not good for me to get too comfortable. In this world, you blink and drop a hundred places.
The only problem is that I don't know what my superpower is yet. In this world, your powers are your voice, your business card. Looking around, it's easy to see that many won't last long here. The competition is fierce, and everything revolves around combat.
The 'clubs' are the backbone of the Battle Academy. There's everything: fighters, wizards, supporters, shooters, and assassins. And me? Well, I was thrown into the assassins' club. They saw something in me, something that shone during my days at the 'academy for gifted youngsters'. Maybe it's my ability to disappear when a problem arises or the way I calculate each move. Who knows?
And the law of the fittest? It reigns supreme here. The hierarchies within the clubs are like the layers of an onion – each with its own struggles and powers. And the assassins? We are feared, respected. We are the only ones who can kill in duels. Unfair? Maybe. But who said life was fair?
So, here I am, on my way to the battle academy ceremony, where life is a ladder and each rung is a target on your back. I'm ranked 230, which means I have the right – or rather, the privilege – to challenge the guy at rank 229. But 228? Forget it. It's like trying to jump two houses in a game of checkers; the rules don't allow it.
It's a meticulously cruel system. You can only aim for one step at a time. Two steps? That's dreaming too high, and here, dreamers are the first to fall.
Being in the assassins' club is like being the rookie in a nest of snakes. Everyone here is dangerous, with hungry eyes aiming for the top of the food chain. And the prize? Total control. Just imagine, commanding an army of assassins before you can even legally drink. It's madness. And this privilege belongs only to the leader.
But make no mistake, the academy isn't just about power and cold blood. Deep down, they want to shape us into heroes, forged to face the anomalies, those evolved who have turned their backs on humanity. It's a noble mission, but here, among blades and shadows, it's easy to forget what it means to be a hero.
The Battle Academy is a veritable hive of activity. With an army of instructors, janitors, recruiters, bureaucrats, engineers, soldiers, medics, researchers, and even shop attendants, it's like a small city dedicated to the art of modern warfare.
Eagle-eyed investors are always on the lookout, searching for the next great hero to sponsor. And the United States? Ah, they are the grand stage where everyone wants to be, where all cultures collide and English is the glue that binds everything together.
Nam-Sam, the guy who is considered elite, but what does that really mean when you don't know what your superpower is? It's like being a spy without a mission, a player without a team. But I have something no one else has: the knowledge of a world that only I know. Now, I just need to figure out how to use that to my advantage.
***
After arriving at the ceremony thanks to the taxis, I stood there with a dumbfounded look as the director spoke. And no, the director wasn't anyone special or powerful. In reality, he was an ordinary man, without superpowers. After his blah-blah-blah, the 1000 first-year students, including myself, were assigned to our classes.
And let me tell you, what a weak and cliché script. I had decided that I would follow the script - I was thrown into this world I created as an extra, so let's follow the path the extra would take, to at least find some meaning in my life. But when I got to my class: 1st Year A, I knew what awaited me.
Here I am, facing the classroom door with a heavy sigh. The sign says "1st year - A", and I know exactly what that means. I'm in the first year, class 1, and this is not new to me.
I know this class. Viktor Frankl and Neo are here, and that puts me in a complicated situation. Why? Simple: Viktor killed the guy whose body I'm occupying now. So, you can imagine the tension when he sees me, alive and breathing, as if I had just walked out of a horror movie.
"He'll probably try to kill me again, or even worse." I thought, as I looked at the classroom. Without the courage to take a step forward.
"Are you going to stand there in front of the door?"
A female and impatient voice echoed right behind me. I slowly turn my head, and for a second, it's as if the world stops. There she is, the definition of beauty that would make 'pretty' sound like an insult. A girl with short black hair that falls perfectly around a face that could have been sculpted by angels. Her eyes are two crystal-clear blue oceans, and her nose, well, it's just the right dose of perfection.
She is a walking masterpiece, with skin so flawless it seems to have come out of a fairy tale. And the body? Let's just say nature was generous with her, giving her curves that even Renaissance sculptures would envy. Her posture has the elegance of a queen and the arrogance of someone who knows they reign supreme.
But now, she's looking at me with an irritation that could freeze the sun. Her lips, red as ripe cherries, are pursed in a pout that says 'you're holding up my day'. And me? I'm here, mesmerized and kind of loving the whole drama.
"Are you going to stand there like a statue, or do you need a little nudge back to reality?" She throws the taunt with a smile that's anything but sweet. The audience of students is already peering, eager for a show, because here, a fight is worth more than a thousand words.
She stares at me, and I? Well, I have that look of someone who's seen a unicorn on fire. It doesn't take long before she gives me a shove, determined, and passes by me like a designer hurricane.
I let out a humorless laugh, shaking my head. "Jade Picon," I think to myself. The princess of brawling, the president's daughter, the heiress of the Picon Guild. A future S-level heroine, a celebrity of good causes and epic fights. And me? I'm the guy who just got run over by royalty.
As she struts into the room, I can't help but admire her. It's as if she stepped right out of one of those movies where the protagonist shines brighter than the sun itself. Even Hollywood stars would have to hide in the shadows.
It takes me a second to shake my head and snap back to reality, with a smile that's more bitter than unsweetened coffee.
"Come on, Nam-Sam, get a grip!" I scold myself mentally. In my original world, at 26 years old, I'd be in the line of fire just for thinking something like this, considering Jade is 16 years old.
Look, don't point your finger at me, okay? This 'body' is on a hormonal roller coaster called puberty. It's hell! Besides, there's the discomfort. Just imagine having to use the previous guy's toothbrush and wear his underwear… Yuck! You guys who value hygiene get the drama, right?
So there I go, with a sigh of someone who's had it up to here with all this, entering the arena, I mean, the classroom. And of course, the circus was already set up, with those curious glances trying to decipher who the new clown in town was, messing with Jade Picon. The famous one, who always has some guys trying to get a piece of the action or show off as the alpha. The way she treated me, all rude and defensive, just shows that she's had to deal with this kind of nonsense before.
Navigating the jungle of chairs and tables in the classroom, my eyes locked with those of Neo, the "Protagonist," the guy with brown hair and eyes as dark as my mood. The boy was a cabinet of muscles, but refined, with arms that seemed to have been sculpted for war – scars and all. But the face? It looked like he had stolen it from a doll, almost childlike. Weird, right? A walking cabinet without a single hair on his face. It seems the universe was in a good mood when it put him together.
Turning my gaze away from 'Mr. Porcelain Doll,' I felt a burning at the back of my neck. It was a blood-red stare, coming from Viktor Frankl, our antagonist, with hair so white it looked like he'd just walked out of a cosplay convention. The guy was looking at me as if he'd seen a ghost, or worse, as if he'd seen the last slice of pizza being stolen. I shrugged and sat down, knowing that our confrontation was inevitable – like the finale of a superhero movie.
I still notice some girls throwing lustful glances at Viktor, not even noticing that he looks more scared than a zebra foal seeing a lion.
So, the classroom is like an operations theater, with rows descending as if they were preparing for the show of the century.
"Which will be my throne today?" I wonder, as my eyes dance over the sea of empty seats. Then I see Jade, already perched at her observation post, near Neo and Viktor, as if she were the queen of the ball waiting for the party to start.
Sitting next to Neo, a girl with blonde hair and blue streaks, so cool with her headphones that you'd swear she was born with them. She rolls her blue eyes at her phone with a boredom that screams 'leave me alone'.
That's Say Moon, the star without pedigree, but with a brain that shines brighter than a constellation. She and Neo, two geniuses without lineage, but with a chemistry that not even Einstein could explain. They get each other, you know? Like two nerds at a comic convention.
If I had to point out a flaw in her, it would be the fact that she's very cold.
Well, this is due to her strength. She has a superiority complex, thinking everyone is beneath her. And the only person she truly respects is Neo.
At the academy for gifted youngsters, Neo and Say faced off, and Neo proved to be an even greater prodigy than Say, easily defeating her. Treating her like a child during the battle.
I took a deep breath, smelling disaster in the air. "The front row is not for me," I thought, as I chose a seat in the second row to the left, a safe haven, far from the main cast.
I settled into the chair, with the air of someone who's seen this movie before. The second row was my strategic hideout, away from the spotlights that always found the protagonists, those walking magnets of trouble.
"I'll stay here, quietly," I thought, "watching the unfolding of this tragicomedy." Because, in the end, being part of the audience has its advantages – you see all the mistakes, but you don't take the blame for them.