The beeping of my system notification dragged me from the warmth of sleep. Groaning, I rubbed my face, feeling the telltale exhaustion of a restless night in this too-quiet house. The glow of my system interface blinked in the corner of my vision.
Daily Quest: Complete chores. Status: Incomplete.
I stretched, my body still a strange combination of small and awkwardly childlike. It was a constant reminder that I was, unfortunately, a 24-year-old man trapped in a 7-year-old body.
"Guess we're doing this," I muttered, shuffling to the dryer in the corner of the laundry nook. I pulled out the slightly wrinkled school uniform that smelled faintly of cheap detergent and air-dried misery.
Ding! Daily Quest Complete. 4 EXP earned.
"Four? You're really spoiling me," I said sarcastically, eyeing my new total: Level 2: 480/500 EXP.
Twenty more EXP to hit Level 3. If I completed the school quest today, I'd finally level up. It wasn't much, but it was something. Still, the thought of going to school as a grown man in a child's body made me cringe.
"This is going to be humiliating," I grumbled, pulling on the uniform. "Twenty-four years old, sitting in a classroom full of kids. Just... fantastic."
The Call
My phone buzzed loudly on the nightstand, making me jump. I stared at it in confusion. I hadn't used it since moving in, and no one in this junkie-infested neighborhood even knew I existed.
The caller ID read: Dr. Collins.
"Oh, great," I muttered, answering with a sigh. "Hello?"
"Allen! Good morning," the familiar voice chirped.
"Morning, Doc. What's up?"
"I just wanted to check in and remind you to head to school today. It's your first day at Anders Preparatory Academy, and we're all rooting for you. Make us proud, okay?"
"Yeah, yeah," I said, trying to sound polite. "Thanks for setting it up. Really."
Dr. Collins chuckled. "I mean it, Allen. You're a bright kid—well, not technically a kid, I suppose—but you've got potential. This school is one of the best in the world. Take advantage of it."
"Sure thing," I replied, though I couldn't help but think, Why did you send me to a place full of child prodigies?
After a few more pleasantries, I hung up, grabbed my bag, and headed to the bus stop.
The Bus Ride
The bus wheezed and groaned as it pulled up to the curb. Stepping inside, I was immediately greeted by the familiar stench of unwashed bodies, cheap booze, and despair. The seats were sticky with god-knows-what, and the floor was a mosaic of gum, trash, and spilled soda.
I chose a seat in the middle—far enough from the driver to avoid attention but not so far back that I'd be cornered by anyone looking for trouble. This wasn't my first ride through Gotham. You learn fast here.
I kept my head down, staring out the grimy window as the city rolled by. Broken streetlights, graffiti-covered walls, and the occasional junkie passed by like some sort of tragic slideshow.
Then he showed up.
The man staggered down the aisle, his clothes hanging off him like rags. His face was gaunt, his eyes wild, and his greasy hair looked like it hadn't seen shampoo in years. He reeked of sweat, booze, and something vaguely metallic—probably blood.
"Hey, kid," he slurred, stopping at my seat.
I didn't respond. Gotham rule #1: Don't engage.
"I'm talking to you, brat." He leaned closer, his voice a low growl. "Got any money?"
"No," I said firmly, not even looking at him.
"Don't lie to me!" His voice rose, and I felt his bony hand grab my shoulder.
I turned to face him, my heart pounding. "I said no."
The man's eyes narrowed, and his lips twisted into a sneer. "Smart mouth on you, huh? Think you're tough?"
He leaned in closer, and I could see the crazed glint in his eyes. That's when he whispered something that sent a cold chill down my spine: "Maybe I'll just take what I want from you."
The bus went dead silent. No one moved. No one spoke. Typical Gotham.
My body tensed, every instinct screaming at me to run. But where? I was cornered in a moving bus, and this guy clearly wasn't just going to let me walk away.
The man's hand shot toward me, and time seemed to slow. I could see the dirt under his nails, the sweat glistening on his skin.
Nope. Not today.
I grabbed his wrist with both hands, twisting sharply. He yelped in surprise, but I didn't stop. Using my smaller size to my advantage, I ducked under his arm, breaking his grip on me.
"Stupid brat!" he snarled, lunging at me.
I kicked out with all the force my small body could muster, my foot connecting with his shin. He stumbled, but I wasn't done.
As he recovered, I planted both hands on the back of the seat in front of me and used it to propel myself forward, driving my knee into his gut.
He doubled over with a groan, clutching his stomach.
"Stay down," I said, my voice low and steady.
But of course, he didn't.
He lunged again, his hands reaching for my neck. This time, I sidestepped, letting him crash face-first into the seat I'd just vacated.
"Enough!" I snapped, my heart pounding in my chest. "Walk away, or I swear I'll make you regret it."
The man hesitated, his eyes darting around the bus. No one came to his defense. No one even looked at him. Typical Gotham.
He muttered something under his breath and staggered toward the back of the bus, collapsing into an empty seat.
Aftermath
I sat back down, my hands trembling slightly as the adrenaline began to wear off. My chest heaved, and I could feel the eyes of the other passengers on me, though none of them said a word.
Welcome to Gotham, I thought bitterly.
The bus rolled on, the incident already forgotten by the rest of the passengers. For me, though, it was a reminder. In this city, weakness was a death sentence.
As the bus pulled up to my stop, I stepped off, my body still humming with leftover adrenaline.
"I'm gonna need to toughen up," I muttered to myself, straightening my bag.
The system chimed in my head: A tyrant must dominate his environment. Show no weakness.
"Yeah, yeah," I muttered, heading toward the gates of Anders Preparatory Academy. "I'm working on it."
Arrival at Anders Preparatory Academy
Stepping off the bus, I was immediately struck by the stark contrast between the grimy streets of Gotham and the pristine grounds of Anders Preparatory Academy.
Tall iron gates surrounded the campus, their sharp spikes glinting in the sunlight. Beyond them stretched perfectly manicured lawns, grand marble buildings, and a crowd of children wearing crisp uniforms that probably cost more than my entire net worth.
It looked like a fortress of privilege and power, a breeding ground for future politicians, lawyers, and scientists. The kind of place where connections were forged and futures were decided.
"Seriously, how did the doctors pull this off?" I muttered, adjusting my bag.
As I approached the gate, a stern-looking woman in a navy suit stepped out of the security booth. She glanced at me, her expression shifting from disinterest to suspicion.
"Can I help you?" she asked, her tone icy.
"I'm a new student," I said, keeping my voice polite. "Allen Walker."
She raised an eyebrow. "You? A student here?"
Before I could respond, she motioned for a nearby guard. "Call the police. This kid looks homeless."
"What?" I snapped. "I'm not homeless!"
The guard stepped forward, his hand hovering near his holster. "You've got five seconds to leave, kid."
Frustration bubbled up as I clenched my fists. "Listen, lady. I'm Allen Walker. Check your damn records before you start throwing accusations."
The woman narrowed her eyes but eventually pulled out a tablet. Her expression shifted when she found my name. "Hmph. Fine. You're cleared. Head to the main building for orientation."
"Thanks," I muttered, brushing past her.
Inside the Classroom
The classroom was massive, with polished wooden desks arranged in neat rows and walls lined with bookshelves. The air smelled faintly of lemon cleaner.
The teacher, a young woman with auburn hair and a warm smile, greeted me as I entered. "Good morning! You must be our new student. I'm Miss Harper."
I nodded. "Yeah. Allen Walker."
She clapped her hands together. "Why don't you introduce yourself to the class? Tell us your name, age, and hobbies."
I resisted the urge to groan. "Fine." Turning to the curious faces staring at me, I said, "I'm Allen Walker. I'm seven years old, and I... like reading."
Lame, but true.
The kids whispered among themselves, their eyes darting to my white hair and pale skin.
"Why's his hair like that?"
"He looks like some kind of anime character."
"Is he sick?"
I ignored them, taking an empty seat near the back.
"This is going to be so annoying," I muttered under my breath, channeling all the frustration I could muster.
The system chimed in my head: A tyrant adapts and conquers any situation.
"Yeah, yeah," I muttered. "Easier said than done."
Chapter Five End.