High school was never a time I could look back on with fondness. I lost people I once called friends, witnessed the true nature of human beings, and fell in love twice, regrettably so. One I treated terribly, and the other shattered me. In hindsight, it can be seen as karma, a balance for past actions.
Later, I found myself among a particular group of people. While not all of them were bad, their toxicity bled through in whispers behind each other's backs, in the way they delighted in pointing out flaws while ignoring their own. And yet, despite all of that, I stayed. Maybe I craved connection, feared isolation despite having grown up with it. Through them, I changed, though not for the better. Truth is, I was already damaged before I met them.
I gained two things from those years: eyes that could see through people and a situational awareness that let me dissect events and trace back every cause and effect. But it came at a cost. My empathy, well what little I had to begin with. Maybe I never truly had it at all…
I had always been distant, withdrawn, preferring isolation. I never fit in, not just because of my demeanor but because of the weight I carried, the heaviness in my presence, the sharpness seen in my gaze.
My high school experience was incomplete. I left around February or March in my junior year to join a program that taught actual life skills. I don't regret it, but I was alone again, cut off from and cut off friends, even the snakes I had grown fond of. I died as a person in high school and left only as a concept.
It wasn't kind to me, but given the chance, I would do it all again. Had some people left though.
None of it matters now. I'm eighteen, armed with the skills I need to survive, with just one year left in my program before I enter the actual workforce. My youth may have been unkind, but my adulthood? That's where I will shine. Or so I believe. Still, I miss my friends, the ones who felt like family, even the ones that were snakes. It would have been nice to walk down that stage together.
Well, no point dwelling on it. I should get out of the dorms and head to the main campus.
[An Error has been detected.]
What?
[The timeline is too distorted.]
A voice? Where is it coming from?
[The timeline is falling apart.]
[Deleting the timeline before it corrupts any further.]
Wait—what? Deletion? Why deletion? What does that even mean—
[Exporting data: Dario Lozano #? .]
What does that mea—
[Exported data will be imported elsewhere.]
Then, silence.
There should have been noise. The hum of electricity, the distant sounds of life, something of the sort. Instead, stillness reigned where movement should have been.
[The world is moving forward again.]
That voice again.
And then, as if the universe remembered its purpose, reality crashed back in. The ringing of a bell, the murmur of voices, the tapping of footsteps against tile.
I know this place.
It feels different yet familiar.
I'm back at my old high school.
I should walk around, see what's going on.
The structure remained the same, yet it feels…off. I recognize the halls, the layout, the small, insignificant details. Scratches on lockers, the flickering hallway lights, the scuff marks left by students skipping class. But the people? Strangers. Or so it seemed at first.
I knew their faces. I remembered their names, the way they laughed, the way they spoke. But when their eyes met mine—nothing. No recognition. No flicker of familiarity. To them, I was just another student, a nobody stepping into their world for the first time.
But I am not new here. I have been here before.
Why am I here? What was that voice? Why doesn't anyone remember me? What is happening?
Then, a translucent screen flickered into existence before my eyes.
[Welcome, Player.]
[Initializing Regression Protocol…]
[Error Error Error]
[Data has been replaced with similar data.]
[Regression protocol has succeeded.]
[The System is Online.]
A system? Like in those comic ones where stats, abilities, numbers floating before me. Strength, Intelligence, Charisma, attributes I could invest in. A set of skills, most likely locked, a handful available. A quest log, no doubt filled with objectives waiting to be discovered.
This isn't a dream.
It isn't an illusion.
From what the system said earlier, my data has been used to replace and fill in missing information. Meaning, I've been thrown into an alternate reality. One where my past remained intact but does not exist. One where my future is unwritten.
A world where I could start again, but the weight of my past mistakes would still press against my shoulders.
But what happened to the version of me that needed to regress?
Another screen layered itself over the first, darker, pulsing with something ancient, something beyond human comprehension.
[The Connection Platform is now accessible.]
[Constellations are watching.]
[Historical Figures have taken an interest.]
[Alternate Versions of You are Online.]
This is a world beyond mere reality, a place where gods, legends, and even other versions of myself observe and interact. Some will aid me. Some will seek to control me. And some? Some will simply watch, waiting for me to make my move.
But this isn't just about me.
There must be a reason why the me from this reality had to regress. Why his data had to be replaced.
The world will move forward, indifferent to my presence unless I force it to acknowledge me. Others have their own stories, their own struggles, their own battles to fight. I am not the center of this universe, merely another piece in its grand design.
But I have been given a chance.
A chance to rewrite my story.
To confront my past.
To reclaim what was lost.
And to face the trauma I had buried, the memories I had forgotten.
This may look like my high school, but it is something else entirely.
And this time, I will not be the same person I once was.
I have returned for a reason.
[Old data will be merged with the replaced new similar data.]
Somehow, I have a feeling this will be pai—
Darkness swallowed me as I collapsed to the floor.