"I was reincarnated, and still have to go to school," I mutter and trek down the busy path towards Lionheart Academy.
As I walk through the gates of the school, it oddly reminds me of the asylum I was raised in— concrete walls, barbed wire. The only difference is the rooftops are lined with rail guns aimed at the sky, which I assume is to shoot down any Gravelhoffs. You'd need at least that much firepower to shoot down those pigeon-like creatures as they're the size of a Boeing-787.
Lionheart Academy is crowned as being a throwaway school due to its free admission and insanely low graduation rate. I wasn't flush with cash, and the other jobs in this world didn't exactly fit my style, so I sucked it up and applied here.
Students around me buzz with excitement, a boy to the right is shaking as he holds the school map upside down. Two girls skip as they rush towards the orientation building, practically singing as they speak to each other. I have a bit of FOMO, or at least I feel like I should, but that would require me to care, and it's hard to care when emotions are a luxury; and I'm not a king... yet.
I celebrated my birthday on the weeklong train trip here—not that I'm sad about that. Who was going to bake me a cake or buy me presents? No one. But it did prohibit me from testing my Helminth. Unlike my past life, the railways in this world run underground, and attempting to conjure fire, or transform into a tiger isn't exactly encouraged, so I had to wait for the open grounds of Lionheart.
When people veer away from me, I realize I'm unintentionally glaring in an attempt to keep my eyes open. Despite sleeping the entire trip, I have an impressive number of eye bags. But that's from a different kind of tired... one sleep can't fix. Noticing a somewhat secluded area near the end of a brick building, I veer off a good distance from the path.
Some people flaunt their parasite which seems foolish to me, but then again it is a part of one's personality. I would rather keep mine under wraps until an emergency.
Figuring I'll start with my family's Helminths. As long as he knew the composition, my father could manifest anything. I extend my hand out and imagine a book. Nothing happens. Not only was he useless to me, but it seems my father's genes are just as weak as he was. Walking up to a dandelion, I pick it. As I hold it out, it turns to two copper coins. So I'm more like my mother. Should I just make a flower shop for a living? Giving back to nature might be its own way of atoning for my sins.
Grabbing a gold coin from my pocket, I imagine a sword, it appears, replacing the gold coin.
I visualize selling the sword, and two silver coins appear in its place.
A tax. Nothing is safe from the government. Hearing what sounds like a sci-fi grenade, I look up. A boy stands twenty feet away; his hand glows a bright purple as a galaxy-like sphere develops in his palm. Looking very pleased the boy lets out a cheer.
Like a baby scorpion—untrained—and unable to control his own strength, the power builds, as the sphere grows into a black hole. With a sickening suctioning sound, it sucks the boy up, his body torn apart as it's absorbed by the glowing vortex, his screams cut off as he vanishes into nothing.
With a sigh, I un-slouch, maybe I should be grateful for what I have—as underwhelming as it is.