Clyde who now had become Jack, at least in name, sat quietly through the rest of the school day. He tried to focus, flipping pages and copying notes when needed, but most of it passed like static in his mind.
Some subjects stirred some familiarity from his memories, but too much had changed and happened. The deeper knowledge of this world’s schooling had already faded during his long journey through gods, war, and his own death.
When the final bell rang, he exhaled quietly. Students gathered their things. He did the same. All he wanted now was to head home, get his bearings, and begin his real task which is training.
Even if his skills remained sealed, his body could still grow. His strength, speed, and reflexes, all of it needed to be advanced even more.
Whether his system can be used or not before the Selection Stage happening, he had to rebuild himself from the ground up.
He couldn’t reach the Ancient One anymore. That link was silent. For now, he would have to walk this world blind. But he still had one thing burning in him like a star, that is revenge.
He would not lose again to the Higher Beings or anyone. He would make them all pay and when the Selection Stage came, he’d be ready. In fact, more than ready than anyone else.
Just as he was heading out the classroom door, a group of three students approached him cautiously, but with wide eyes in admiration.
"Hey... Jack," one of them called. "That earlier... was so cool, what you did to those jerks earlier."
Clyde blinked, then frowned slightly. The kids looked familiar. Pale, nervous, a little awkward. The kind who usually were the target of the bullies as well. He recognized the same fear he used to carry.
He softened just a little.
"They needed a lesson," Clyde said simply while giving a faint smile.
The students laughed a bit with awkward laugh but they definitely looked grateful.
"Are you like... super trained or something?" one of them asked. "How’d you get that strong so suddenly?"
Clyde thought for a second. Then shrugged.
"I got reborn," he said with deadpan expression.
They all laughed again, one of them snorting.
"Man, you’re weird. But that was awesome," one of them said.
After some brief farewells, the kids went their own way, and Clyde started toward the front gates.
Now that his head had cleared, something clicked. Memories from Jack resurfacing.
He knew the way home. He even remembered the house. The neighborhood. And... the man waiting there.
He was trash. A man who leeched off his dead brother’s money, an alcohholic who drank all day, and took out his anger on the only person left in his life.
Jack had feared him but he also choose to endured him. Let himself be hit, humiliated, and ignored. Because in his mind, that man was his only family left after his father and mother died.
He boarded the bus in silence, rode the short trip to the outskirts, then walked another few minutes through a quieter district of small aging homes.
The building that greeted him was just as Jack remembered. It have peeling paint, creaky fence, and dead garden.
He didn’t bother knocking.
He just stepped inside.
The smell of alcohol, instant noodles, and old socks hit him first when he entered the house. Bottles littered the table and floor. The TV blared some stupid game show.
The man on the couch looked up.
Jack’s uncle was in his late forties, with a sunken face and angry eyes dulled by years of cheap liquor.
"What the hell you lookin’ at like that?" the uncle barked.
Clyde’s lip curled. "Disgusting."
The man blinked. "What?"
"I think you should get the fuck out. Leave this house. You’re not welcome here."
The uncle let out a sharp laugh, standing with a wobble.
"You tryin’ to act tough now, boy?! Who the hell do you think you are?!"
He raised a hand to hit him like always.
Clyde caught it mid-air. His eyes sharp and calm.
Then drove his fist into the man’s face.
The uncle crashed backward into the couch, tumbling over it and landing in a heap. He groaned, too dazed to move.
Clyde stepped forward with cold gaze. "If you don’t leave on your own, I’ll throw you out myself. Or worse, I will kill you and then cut your body to pieces and feed you to a dog."
He didn’t wait for a reply.
He turned, walked down the hall, and entered his room—Jack’s room.
The door clicked shut behind him.
The air inside was still and musty, but not unpleasant. It smelled like books. Shelves lined the walls filled with worn paperbacks and hardcover novels. He took a slow walk toward them and ran his fingers along the spines.
A faint smile tugged at his lips.
"So... you liked books too," Clyde murmured.
That made something twist in his chest. He didn’t know this boy. But seeing this room, seeing the quiet refuge Jack had built in the middle of his grim life, made something ache.
He imagined Jack retreating here after school, after another beating, and another day of pretending everything was okay.
But now, Jack was gone.
Erased? Freed? Did the Ancient One make that choice? Did Jack want to disappear?
Clyde sat down at the desk and looked over the scattered notebooks and homework sheets.
His eyes paused on a small leather-bound diary tucked into the corner of the desk.
His hand reached out, hovered over it. Then stopped.
He realized that It wasn’t his.
Even if he was using Jack’s body now this was not his. Clyde withdrew his hand and leaned back in the chair, exhaling.
He stood, changed into something more comfortable, then made his way to the bathroom.
He passed the living room. The couch was empty now. His uncle must’ve stumbled out in a haze, or maybe finally realized he was no longer in control.
The shower was brief. Just enough to scrub away the grime of school and tension from the day.
Back in the room, he dried his hair, turned off the lights, and sank into the bed.
It was surprisingly comfortable. A little old, maybe a bit sunken in one side, but it still good.
He lay there quietly, eyes on the dark ceiling.
His new life had just begun. He didn’t know when the danger would return, or when the world would crack again.