Morning spilled thin pale light across the small rooms where Reinhard lay, dressed and restless, awaiting the third day of a trial that had ceased to be promising.
School was no longer a place of dreams but a shadowed realm of whispered taunts and suffocating looks that blanketed every corner with menace. Each moment stretched unforgivingly, pressing down until all Reinhard wished was escape, solace in solitude.
"Reinhard," came the voice, quiet but firm, "why haven't you left?"
His confused gaze caught the absence of something familiar — the cream, the ritual of dulling his skin, missing today.
"You will not apply it," his mother said, voice steady and unyielding.
A question stuck to his tongue, but his mind halted it softly, veins tightening. The "why" that invited rage was recognized unconsciously, a survival mechanism taught by silence and fear. All children of YangPass learned, as part of their souls, which questions birthed safety, and which summoned wrath.Most of the times they didn't knew which questions will indicate innocence and which questions will indicate rage consciously , but unconsciously there mind had already learned and help them in selection intuitively without them realising .
He turned, leaving words unspoken.
The school loomed ahead, corridors long and cold, the approach tightening his chest with nightmares pressing close.
His steps crossed the threshold mechanically, never rising beyond necessary volume. Reinhard did not meet eyes, settling instead on the last bench — a place he could claim alone, untouched, where the teachers' gaze held less bite.
From the far end, Hancock fixed him with a look born of habit — disgust carved in thin lines — but as his face revealed itself, her mind struggled. Something was different today.Reinhard face appeared different today to Hancock .
Over the first twenty minutes, his image returned in flickers, repeated again and again .
The teacher entered the classroom like a slow wave, voice clear and measured.
"Do you know what every prince needs to grow?" she asked, eyes sweeping the room.
"A king," she said, voice cool and deliberate.
No proclamation of election, no hint of competition — she withheld that, careful to prevent the one rare kids feeling envy towards the choosen king even in the controlled environment.
"The prince believes in the king's ideas," she continued. "The king acts, he gives form to what the prince believes."
Her gaze settled forward, solemn.
"Our King of the Neron Pass is Reinhard HayGram — the uniter of species, architect of harmony, and ruler of all his prince's."
Time fractured in Reinhard's chest — a quick shock, then a sudden eruption of joy, brief and shining like the flare of a distant star.
He rose, walking forward beneath eyes startled into submission.
"Everyone," the teacher commanded, "leave your desks and bow. Repeat after me."
The classroom folded into a rhythmic chorus, voices low and bowed, as if swearing fealty to a sacred covenant.
"Our King is Reinhard HayGram. His orders reign supreme. We serve him eternally. Without our King, we are nothing."
Those who once spat scorn now wove respect, their eyes filled with admiration for there new King — Reinhard HayGram .
Minutes passed like grains through an hourglass.
Reinhard sat alone on the sofa — a throne reborn — cloaked in regal robes, a crown resting heavily yet comfortably upon his white curls.
Clak knelt, ever the servant transformed into living furniture, voice low and respectful.
Clak was the kid who once kicked Reinhard out of the class .
He said with a tone of admiration
"King, shall I fetch your KonShaks?"
Reinhard waved him off gently. "I forgive you."
"Thank you, King."
A brief flicker of regret crossed Reinhard's mind — Elizabeth, likely bearing the weight of punishment alone beneath harsh sun.
Hancock approached, humble, her face cloaked in shame.
"King," she whispered, voice trembling, "I am sorry for all my cruelties."
He said nothing, holding out a hand in quiet grace.
She grasped it, relief and penitence mingling in a breathless moment.
Without thought, they pressed lips — Hancock leaving her body at ease and bliss .
A choir of voices rose anew, praising their sovereign.
"We are nothing without our King! All hail Reinhard, the uniter of all species!"
The world that had long suffocated him with cruelty suddenly started treating him like a King . The world which never barely ever face him a moment of joy had suddenly turned into bliss for him . All because of an identity —King who will unite all species . That's the only thing which changed his life forever giving him pleasure forever . His brain subconsciously turned it into his purpose —uniting all the species . That was the only thing that gave him this pleasure and that will be the only the most of the things that will give him pleasure while working on it without his brain realising .
Days folded into weeks, weeks into months.
The cycle continued — unyielding, relentless.
The teacher's voice returned, soft yet commanding.
"Open your books. Today, we study:
'Reinhard — The tale of the king who will unite all species.'"
The children leaned forward, eyes bright with rare genuine interest.
Reinhard listened, captivated, imagining every page a pathway, every word a stepping stone.
The only fiction granted in this realm, the sole permitted escape through story.
The typical qidian webnovel story arc — where the main character flexes his aura defeating the monsters but replaced by haunting species . The type of solo leveling arc where only the main character level ups . The type of repition of arcs where main character goes to a new land , humans there underestimates him and than he save those human from dangerous species and the loop repeats . The type of story which was enough to fill the mind and hearts of braindead children .
The children was made out to be braindead but even if they were not , it's not like they had better options to read.
The children's impressions of Reinhard flourished, fed by the narrative and their hopeful minds. The book did a great job at portraying Reinhard as an Messiah that will save them all . They all started daydreaming about him —imagining his journey .
Reinhard imagined his future — the grand journey towards unity, the overcoming of impossibility. Without having a slightest bit of idea that how much the real world and the fiction world differs .
His whispered prayer deepened: "I, Reinhard Von Lohengramm, will unite all beings in ten years and four months." He was loosing his patience to start the heroic journey he read in the book .
The time passed further and they decided to leave towards the shore of YangPass .
Clak, steady as ever, bore Reinhard; Hancock rode at the vanguard, the afternoon breeze playing with her hair.
Clak was acting as an horse for Reinhard and Hancock . He was being trained to be a static or dynamic sofa from the day he was born .
The ocean stretched cold and distant, beckoning with the promise of places beyond reach.
Kael's voice broke the quiet: "The ocean looks like fun.I wonder what actually is beyond that"
"Aye," Reinhard replied, eyes flickering with a rare light.
Together, their voices joined the chorus of young hope.
"We shall be taken from this island by Reinhard. He will reclaim the world, turning the inhabitable world into habitable for all. Our bond is eternal. Our leader Reinhard will lead us forth."
Houf approached, face shadowed by fear.
"King," he said softly, "our kind—the Sturtles—are treated as slaves beyond Noren Island. I dread the journey."
Reinhard dismounted, pulling Houf close in a rare brotherhood.
"Your friend Reinhard will reshape the world — no one will look down on you, no one will enslave you."
Houf's smile cracked wide, wolfish and raw due to his longer face structure —typical of an Sturtles .
"Thank you, King. You are the best." Tears fell unashamed.
Reinhard patted Houf's head, steadying. Houf pledged loyalty that day, becoming one of Reinhard's closest servants.