In the old AV room, dustier than a dinosaur's diary and barely holding itself together with creaking fan blades and half-broken plastic chairs, sat the so-called elite minds of the school's great war.
Abhay sat at the center, trying to maintain a sense of leadership, but his trembling left eye betrayed the stress. To his right, the seniors from the North East and North West alliances, still glowing with the smugness of their recent victories. To his left sat the Drawing Club members, sipping tea like they were at a casual art camp instead of an underground war strategy council. And next to the tea-drinkers, with an empty chair and laptop in front of him, sat Kritagiya—his face glowing in the dark thanks to his screen, where "Angel Priya" was still online and baiting new victims.
At the far end, Ujjwal sat with a paper bag on his head. Not because he was hiding, but because someone drew eyes and a smiley face on it, claiming it increased team morale.
"Alright," Abhay began, tapping a stick on the dusty whiteboard, "we need to talk strategy."
"Before that," Rohit raised his hand, "can we address the trauma? I'm still recovering from the fact that I was talking to 'Special Kajal' for six months."
The Drawing Club president patted his back. "It happens, bro. Kritagiya is like a virus in human form."
"I'm a solution," Kritagiya muttered.
"You're a Trojan horse wearing lip gloss," Rohit replied.
"Okay, okay!" Abhay snapped. "Back to business. Right now, the Yoga-Judo alliance holds most of the North-East and North-West wings. Drawing Club controls the main stairs. Innovation Lab is safe—unless someone crawls through a sewage pipe again—"
Everyone turned toward Ujjwal.
He raised both hands. "No regrets. Tactical genius has its price."
Abhay rolled his eyes. "But new alliances are forming. Boxing-Archery just declared war and crushed a class leader just because he flirted with someone's sister."
The Boxing Club president had sent the photo to the Music Club president with the caption: 'Love is pain. So is my punch.'
Rohit pointed at a small dot on the map. "And now we're getting random war declarations from the lower classes—6th and 7th graders."
"Lower classes?" Ujjwal perked up, his bag head wobbling. "Do they even have alliances?"
"No, just vengeance," Kritagiya said. "Unfiltered, sugar-high vengeance."
Just then, the AV room door burst open and a panicked scout from Drawing Club ran in. "Sirs! Emergency! The 6th and 7th graders have declared mutual war—against each other!"
Everyone blinked.
"...That's just sibling behavior," said one of the seniors.
"No!" the scout said, panting. "They're fighting like gremlins in a blender. The 6th graders have built barricades out of desks and water bottles. The 7th graders are using stolen hockey sticks and slingshots!"
"Oh God," Abhay groaned. "Do they even know what this war is about?"
"They think it's real," the scout replied. "One 7th grader was shouting something about the 'holy pencil of Math Sir' being stolen. I think someone hit someone else with a geometry box."
The room burst into laughter. Even Kritagiya had to close Angel Priya's chat to breathe.
A Drawing Club junior chuckled. "What next? A 5th grader on a tricycle rushes in with a Nerf gun?"
"Don't even joke," Rohit said, shivering. "If they get the water guns out, I'm retiring."
Suddenly, a voice crackled through the speaker—The Music Club president's, as cheerful as always.
"GOOD MORNING, MY WAR-LOVING STUDENTS! Seems like classes 6-A and 7-C are now entering phase two of their tiny titan clash. I'm not saying it's chaos, but I just saw a 6th grader zip-lining down the railing using a school tie."
Everyone stared at the speaker.
Abhay buried his face in his palms. "We're leading an alliance in a warzone, and the enemy is a ten-year-old Spider-Man fan."
"And he's winning," Ujjwal added grimly.
Kritagiya, multitasking on four fake profiles, smirked. "Maybe I should catfish the 6th-grade leader next."
"You try that," Abhay said, "and I'll report you to the math teacher. Personally."
"That's evil."
"Exactly."
Meanwhile, on the other side of the building, things were no less dramatic. The 7th graders had stormed the junior library, declaring it the "War Council Fort," and used every beanbag as a shield. The librarian had fainted at the sight of three boys stacking chairs into a trebuchet-like structure.
The 6th graders responded by raiding the art supply room. Now, two squads painted entirely in black acrylic were crawling through hallways like Navy SEALs with glitter grenades.
Back in the AV room, one of the North West seniors stood. "We need to intervene. Or the 6th graders might actually reach the chemistry lab."
Everyone gasped.
"If they get to the sodium—" Rohit began.
"They'll accidentally nuke the basement," said the Drawing Club president.
Abhay stood, now fully recovered from his earlier existential crisis. "Alright, this is what we'll do. North East—contain the 6th graders. Use peace treaties, candies, anything. North West—you're blocking 7th's access to the second-floor supply corridor. Drawing Club, hold the line at the stairs. And Kritagiya..."
"Yes?" he asked, one eyebrow raised.
"You are banned from using Wi-Fi for the next two hours."
"...This is a violation of my fundamental rights."
"No," Abhay replied. "This is me making sure a 6th grader doesn't fall in love with your fake K-pop fan page."
Ujjwal, now having taken off the bag, nodded. "Let's do this. Time to babysit with style."
As the makeshift strategy council scattered to their missions, Abhay sighed again and looked at the map of the school.
"Only in this school," he muttered, "can a war council feel like a family drama crossed with a reality show."
Just then, the Music Club president's voice echoed again:
"And in a shocking twist, the 6th graders have now allied with class 5-B. Because of course they have. Stay tuned for more chaos, betrayal, and questionable decision-making in... WAR SCHOOL SAGA!"
Abhay looked up to the sky—or at least the ceiling—and whispered, "Why did I come to school today?"