STB Chapter 31: Protagonist

This is machine translated and all copyrights belong to the author. Please note that the translator might take creative liberties for better readability. Thank you for reading.

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Thinking back to the disaster that occurred four days ago, Johnson’s face turned pale.

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The street was littered with collapsed store signs soaked in muddy water.

Several old houses were tilting, their roofs gone, as rain continuously washed over the furniture inside. The floodwaters carried various items: clothes, plastic basins, and half a deflated basketball.

Faint radio sounds were audible amidst the chaos: “Bzz bzz… Hurricane Jennifer hits South Carolina on its fourth day… Originally predicted to land in Mexico, Hurricane Jennifer unexpectedly changed course on the morning of November 7th, making landfall in South Carolina by evening… Most areas near the Gulf of Mexico suffered severe damage, transportation paralyzed… bzz.”

The wind had lessened, but the torrential rain continued.

An apple, carried by the water current, bobbed semi-submerged among various debris. Pushed down by the rain, it would resurface in sheltered areas, determinedly making its way.

Suddenly, the apple’s journey was interrupted.

A thin hand emerged from the shadows, swiftly scooping the apple from the murky water. Wiping it hurriedly with his clothes, the boy eagerly bit into it.

Rain fell on his face, his reddish-brown hair wet and clinging to his forehead.

The boy’s appearance, munching on the apple like a startled hamster, cheeks puffed high with freckles, and eyes darting around warily, was poignant. After a few crunches, he reluctantly tossed the half-eaten apple core back into the water.

His name was Johnson Brown.

Fourteen years old, just starting ninth grade.

About four days ago, at dusk, he blew up his school…

For an American boy his age, Johnson was frail. His poor family background meant he wore ill-fitting clothes from relief stations and dirty sneakers, often without socks. His hair was unkempt, making him look disheveled and the subject of ridicule at his public school.

His textbooks were torn to pieces, and homework submissions mysteriously disappeared, earning him harsh scolding from teachers.

His crafts were smashed, his locker frequently broken into, stuffed with mud, dead rats, and once, even a skinned rabbit.

Johnson didn’t know who was responsible, but the people around him just whistled and watched his misfortune.

Complaining to teachers only led to intensified retaliation.

He suffered in silence, but the covert aggression escalated. While playing basketball, his classmates roughly knocked him over, feigning apologies while laughing and mocking him loudly. The fourteen-year-old, skinny and half the size of his peers, was easily overpowered. Another “accidental” elbow shove and he was face-down on the grass again.

Since then, bruises often marred his body, all “accidentally” self-inflicted.

A new teacher joined the school last year, trying to help him, but Johnson’s situation didn’t improve.

A lawyer offering free services to victims of school violence visited, but apart from that one teacher, not a single person came forward to confirm Johnson’s bullying.

There’s a common misconception that victims of school violence are always good students.

Sometimes, it’s the good students who are the aggressors, the popular, beloved ‘sunshine boys’, while the victims are the ones disliked by teachers and peers.

By bullying these hidden, unkempt kids, the idols of the school gain even more adoration.

Johnson was labeled by other teachers as the “untidy student who doesn’t submit homework” and by his peers as the “little bug” or “lazy pig.” Having lived in a slum until two years ago, who would stand up for him?

Even the only female teacher who spoke up for him was dismissed two months prior for lack of evidence.

With numerous scars on his arms, Johnson climbed a small slope made of furniture and fallen windows, seeking shelter behind a large wardrobe, using an iron water bucket for cover from the rain.

The thought of the disaster four days ago left him pale.

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That morning, the sky was already overcast. Just as algebra class began, the school’s emergency broadcast announced an urgent evacuation.

Hurricane Jennifer had changed its course, now predicted to land less than a hundred miles from the city.

Though South Carolina often experienced hurricanes, direct landfalls were rare. The teachers panicked and rushed all students onto school buses.

Chaos ensued in the school as informed parents arrived and students received calls to pick up their younger siblings from elementary school.

After waiting for a long time, Johnson couldn’t squeeze onto any bus and watched the schoolyard empty. As he walked home, passing through a small grove, a group of bullies who frequently harassed him ambushed him, put a plastic bag over his head, and knocked him unconscious with several punches. They carried him to the school’s power station and locked the door.

Johnson had previously been locked overnight in the gymnasium, warehouse, and laboratory by these bullies.

Johnson was an orphan living with his unmarried uncle, Rick, a gambler who often stayed away from home for twenty days a month. Rick wouldn’t notice or care if Johnson didn’t come home.

These teenagers attending the public school completely failed to recognize the severity and maliciousness of their actions.

For them, a hurricane meant broken trees and signs, staying indoors, occasional power outages, flooded roads, school closures, and parents not going to work — essentially, a boring break from the routine.

Their ideas for tormenting Johnson were endless and increasingly wicked.

Initially, they squatted outside the locked gymnasium, listening to Johnson’s cries. When they realized he didn’t cry or shout and could be locked up for only one night at most, they quickly lost interest and started contemplating more thrilling misdeeds.

Then came the hurricane warning!

The boys immediately became excited, believing that if they locked Johnson somewhere this time, he might not be found for two days. Imagine, amidst the roaring and pitch-black storm, poor Johnson locked in the power station with no one coming to his aid. Wouldn’t he be terrified enough to wet his pants?

So, they acted on their thoughts, dodging teachers and parents to attack Johnson.

Behind the small woods was the power station – perfect! Since the school’s main power switch had been pulled, plunging the building into darkness, they threw Johnson in there, expecting he would be found soon enough to prevent him from starving to death.

After locking the door from the outside, the boys returned home, triumphant. They were scolded by their anxious parents and dragged into the car, confusedly arguing to bring along tablets, baseball bats, and roller skates, only to be ignored by their parents.

Sitting in the back of the car, watching people frantically drive out of the city, the boys finally realized something was wrong. The hurricane had arrived, and instead of enjoying a lazy day at home with hot dogs and video games, they faced a serious situation.

“The city might be submerged by floodwaters.”

“It’s a category three hurricane; God bless our house! It’s too old and frail; it might not hold up.”

“We’ve insured the house. What, you forgot to bring the insurance policy? Go back quickly!”

“Shut up! Do you want to go back and die?”

Adults, consumed by anxiety, cursed and argued, completely ignoring the terrified expressions on their children’s faces.

The school building was newly constructed, and very sturdy; hurricanes in the past had caused no harm, so this time would surely be no different. The teenagers thought this way, but none of them dared to mention that Johnson was still locked inside the school.

Because if they did, it would bring up their past bullying.

Or perhaps worse, it could lead to criminal charges for school violence.

Johnson wasn’t completely unconscious, and shortly after the group of teenagers left, he regained his senses.

The transformer room had no windows, and it was pitch black everywhere. He fumbled his way to the duty room, and pressed the switch on the wall, but the lights didn’t come on. Thankfully, there was a shattered electronic clock with a faint glow in one of the drawers. In the dim light, he also found a fully charged flashlight on the desk. After ransacking the duty room, he found even more treasures – two cans of beer and a bag of potato chips hidden by the duty staff.

Johnson placed these items by his feet, preparing to endure the next couple of days.

His thoughts were similar to those of the group of teenagers.

Johnson wasn’t too frightened; the school’s transformer room was not small and had ventilation openings. Besides the darkness, it might still be safer than his family’s house in the old neighborhood.

But this thought was soon dispelled a few hours later when the terrifying howling of the wind came through the thick doors, sounding like the roar of demons from the depths of hell. The grille on the ventilation opening flew off, and dust poured in.

Johnson crawled under the table, trembling.

The wind grew louder, resembling the wail of a banshee, mixed with chaotic and incomprehensible noises.

—-Hurricane Jennifer changed its course along the Gulf of Mexico, reaching a wind speed of 220 kilometers per hour, becoming a Category 4 hurricane. People had expected it to land in South Texas early on the 8th, but it arrived in the evening of the 7th instead.

Those who hadn’t evacuated were facing a catastrophe.

What is desperation?

Johnson curled up in fear, clutching his head. After enduring several hours of anxiety, he finally realized that it was just the prelude of the hurricane; the real storm had just arrived.

He lay on the ground, but it was the ground that was shaking, no, it was the whole building.

The creaking sounds were surprisingly clear amidst the howling winds. Everything was shifting, and Johnson had never imagined that staying inside a house could feel like being on a rocking boat, with his field of vision swaying, and nothing fixed, as things crashed and clattered around him.

Sparks appeared inside the transformer room, and something damaged the equipment.

The third floor was gone, followed by the second floor… When the ceiling flew off, Johnson tightly closed his eyes, futilely grabbing onto the table legs. Suddenly, the terrifying sound ceased.

Johnson opened his eyes, staring blankly at the bizarre scene before him.

The world had come to a standstill.

Above was a pitch-black and terrifying sky, like a messy painting, with chaotic traces of air currents mixed with ink-black cream.

Many things that the wind had swept away were suspended in mid-air, and raindrops were frozen in place, unable to reach the ground. Johnson cautiously reached out and touched one; it left his palm wet.

Outside the partially destroyed transformer station lay the collapsed school building and a once-thriving grove of trees now reduced to rubble.

The floodwater was half as high as Johnson’s, and the familiar campus had turned into a vast waterlogged expanse.

The storm had come from one end of the sky to the other, shrouded in a blurry curtain of rain, extending in all directions.

This apocalyptic scene made Johnson feel like he had fallen into hell.

His frail body trembled uncontrollably, and a terrible force surged within him—

“Ah!”

Centered on the transformer station, a bolt of lightning shot out from the clouds.

The sky seemed like a torn canvas, with flashes of lightning continuously descending, connecting heaven and earth. This dazzling golden light was filled with terrifying power, and in an instant, the entire public high school was submerged in thunder and lightning.

Building frames crumbled, surviving structures collapsed, and the aftermath of the lightning spread across the water’s surface like a massive golden net.

Immediately following, a vortex of swirling winds appeared, pulling up dust and debris into the sky. The storm grinned like a devil.

An S-Class ability holder awakened.

The abandoned world was detached, and the terrifying sound of the hurricane reappeared.

The wind carried Johnson into the sky, and he struggled in panic. An invisible force enveloped his body and carried him far, far away.

Finally, he landed unharmed amidst the ruins of the school buildings, only to realize: he had seemingly blown up the school…

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The author has something to say：

Johnson’s awakening process is similar to the original awakening pattern of Li Fei in the book.

At the brink of death, he forcibly enters the abandoned world——charges up his power——releases it——and returns to the real world, using his ability to save his own life. →_→

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Last Edit: December 20, 2023 at 9:15 AM

This is machine translated and all copyrights belong to the author. Please note that the translator might take creative liberties for better readability. Thank you for reading.