School Life

Sanjay stepped onto the ship, his footsteps echoing in the quiet, metallic corridor. His heart pounded—not from fear, but from the sheer weight of the moment. He had worked tirelessly for this, and now, he was about to see the ship come to life.

He made his way to the control room, where the vast control panel stood waiting. A hollow compartment sat open in the center, as if calling for something. He knew exactly what it was for.

Taking a deep breath, he carefully placed the mini fusion reactor into the slot. A faint hum filled the room. Then—

A surge of energy pulsed through the ship. Lights flickered on, running along the walls and illuminating every corner. The control panel lit up like a city skyline at night.

A smooth, almost human-like voice echoed from the speakers.

"[Hello, Captain.]"

Sanjay didn't flinch. He had expected this. Most high-end ships came with an onboard AI.

"Hello," he greeted back, his voice calm.

He had no intention of piloting the ship manually. That was what AI was for.

"Iris, take control and prepare for launch," he commanded.

The ship responded immediately. Beneath them, the temporary wheels started rotating, smoothly guiding the vessel toward the inclined ramp leading to the water. The moment they reached the edge—

Splash!

The ship plunged into the ocean, its wings cutting through the surface with effortless grace.

Sanjay let out a breath, feeling the stability of the cabin. Even in these treacherous waters—waters feared by sailors for generations—the ship hardly trembled.

"Iris, let's take a tour."

Without the slightest jolt, the ship moved forward, gliding through the waves as if it were floating on air. The engineering was beyond anything from this era. Even the world's most advanced warships couldn't compare.

This ocean was vast, stretching between nations, yet no ships dared to cross it. The waters were too dangerous. In the future, massive deep-sea docking hubs would be built here, allowing ships to anchor safely. But in this era, it was a no-man's-land.

The onboard radar activated, scanning up to 1,000 kilometers in every direction. Sanjay watched in awe as detailed data filled the screen—every moving object, whether in the air or deep below the surface, was displayed with pinpoint accuracy.

How the hell did the machine build all this? He had only provided a few raw materials, yet the technology it had created was worth billions in the modern world.

At full speed, the ship soared across the ocean at 150 km/h—faster than any warship known to man.

After hours of travel, he leaned back in his chair, savoring the moment. "Alright, Iris, dock it for now."

The ship came to a smooth stop at the designated docking zone. This would be its resting place until he could train a small crew—about ten people would be enough since the AI handled most operations.

As he stepped out onto the temporary dock, the sheer scale of his creation sank in. He had never traveled by ship before—let alone on something this massive. The experience was exhilarating.

He glanced at the vessel, a proud smirk on his face. "Not bad."

Though the ship carried no weapons for now, installing machine guns from the future would be easy. And against the wooden fleets of this era? They wouldn't stand a chance. Even at half speed, no navy could catch him. A single ship like this could obliterate an entire nation's fleet.

But war wasn't his goal. He wasn't interested in conquering countries—gold, resources, and trade were what mattered.

After securing the ship, he moved on to his next task. The two machines he had developed were ready for delivery—one to the hospital, the other to the newly built construction office. With so many projects underway in his territory, a dedicated administration center had become essential.

Sanjay monitored everything with his invisible drones, their tiny cameras embedded in every office, every meeting room. Corruption wasn't a problem yet, but he knew it was only a matter of time. No matter how much he paid his officials, greed would eventually take hold.

He sighed, shaking his head. It's only a matter of time before they start looking for loopholes.

For now, everything was running smoothly. That was enough.

After finishing his tasks and taking a few days to rest, he returned to the modern world.

As he stepped through the portal, his home came into view. The familiarity of it washed over him.

"Finally… home."

It had only been three days, and he had made sure to check in with his family daily, but still—nothing compared to being back.

A few days later, school reopened. The crisp morning air carried the sounds of laughter and chatter as students reunited, sharing stories of their holidays.

Sanjay walked through the school gate, his bag slung over one shoulder. The break had felt too short—like a fleeting pause before reality came crashing back in.

"Hey, Sanjay! What's up?"

A familiar voice broke through his thoughts. He turned to see Sameer jogging toward him, his backpack bouncing with each step.

"Nothing much," Sanjay replied, forcing a smile.

"How was your vacation?"

Sanjay shrugged. "Same old."

Sameer grinned. "Mine was awesome! We went to Delhi, then Agra—man, the Taj Mahal is something else! And the food? Don't even get me started..."

Sanjay nodded along, but his mind was elsewhere. He should have cared, should have asked for details, but all he could think about was the day ahead—the results he wasn't looking forward to.

The school bell rang, cutting their conversation short. A collective groan rose from the students as they trudged toward the assembly hall, the excitement of reunion fading into the dullness of routine.

The principal took the stage and cleared his throat. His speech was the same every year—discipline, responsibility, and a dramatic declaration that this batch was the worst the school had ever seen. Sanjay tuned it out, his gaze drifting to the sky. The sun was already harsh, the heat settling in.

Then came the moment everyone dreaded—the first day back meant results.

As soon as they entered the classroom, the atmosphere shifted. Conversations turned into hushed whispers. Some students fidgeted anxiously, while others put on an air of indifference, pretending they didn't care.

The math teacher walked in, a stack of graded papers in her hands, her expression grim.

"I don't even know what to say about this batch," she began, shaking her head. "This is the worst performance I've seen in years."

A collective sigh rippled through the class. Some groaned. Others exchanged nervous glances.

Sanjay leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. He knew he hadn't done well, but honestly, it didn't bother him. His knowledge from his past life was far beyond this syllabus—he just hadn't bothered to memorize school-level theorems.

Names were called, one after another. Students walked up, received their papers, and reacted with either quiet relief or outright horror. Murmurs, gasps, and the occasional curse word filled the air.

Then—

"Sanjay."

He walked up, took his paper, and glanced at the marks. His chest tightened slightly. Below average.

One subject after another, the results followed the same pattern—average, below average, near rock bottom.

The social science teacher didn't bother hiding her disappointment. "Sanjay, what's going on with you?" she asked, waving his answer sheet for the class to see. "You used to be decent, and now look at this!"

A few students snickered.

Sanjay said nothing. He could feel the stares, hear the muffled laughter. Some found amusement in seeing someone fall.

He exhaled slowly, gripping the edge of his desk. It doesn't matter. None of this matters.

He didn't need these grades. His technology was already groundbreaking. His intelligence, boosted by his augmented brain, placed him leagues ahead of any student here. If he wanted, he could ace these exams with minimal effort.

But despite knowing all that, the humiliation still stung.

When the final bell rang, he packed his bag in silence.

"Bro, you okay?" Sameer asked, falling into step beside him.

"I'm fine," Sanjay replied, forcing another smile.

Sameer didn't look convinced but didn't push. Instead, he kept talking, cracking jokes to lighten the mood as they walked out together.

The ride home felt longer than usual. Sanjay pedaled slowly, his thoughts heavy. The sounds of traffic, distant honking, the occasional bark of a stray dog—none of it registered.

By the time he reached home, the sun had started to dip, casting a golden glow over the house. As he stepped inside, the familiar sounds of the kitchen greeted him. The aroma of spices filled the air.

"Mom, I'm home," he called, dropping his bag by the door.

Silence.

His mother appeared a moment later, wiping her hands on her saree. Her usual warmth was missing.

Sanjay frowned. "What happened?"

She hesitated. "Your school teacher called."

A pause.

"She said you failed a few subjects," she continued, her voice quieter now. "If you don't improve, you might not get admission into college."

Sanjay sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Mom, it's not a big deal—"

"Not a big deal?" Her voice cracked. "Sanjay, do you even understand what this means? What will people say? What about your future?"

Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears. She quickly turned away, wiping them.

Sanjay's chest tightened. He never wanted to see his mother cry.

"Mom, look at me," he said softly, stepping closer. "I know you're worried, but I promise, I'll do well in my board exams. I just got distracted... I've been working on my software. Trust me, I have everything under control."

She didn't respond for a long moment. Then, with a weary sigh, she shook her head.

"You always say that," she murmured. "But promises don't mean anything unless you prove them."

Sanjay nodded. "I will."

It took him a few more minutes to calm her down. But even after she returned to the kitchen, the worry lingered in her eyes.

And that was the thing about Indian parents. It didn't matter if you were a genius or a millionaire. They wanted a degree. A certificate. Something they could hold up and say, See? My child did well.

Sanjay sighed as he walked to his room. His frustration wasn't with his mother—it was with the world that forced her to think like this.

He dropped onto his bed and grabbed his textbooks, flipping through them. With his enhanced mind, he had already memorized most of the content. Even without Iris's help, topping the exams would be easy.

But today's humiliation still lingered.

The whispers. The laughter. The pitying looks.

His grip tightened on the book.

They laughed today.

A slow smirk formed on his lips.

But in the end, I'll be the one laughing.

P.S: Thankyou VEGETA_15505, lime_light for the power stones.