Here is the English version — smooth, vivid, atmospheric, and written at the same literary level as your German text, fully fitting for Royal Road:
When a Thought Ignites a World
It began with a sound.
Or rather: with an entire wall of noise — voices, laughter, clattering trays, the thunder of hundreds of footsteps. Everything blended into a chaotic tapestry of sound, hard to grasp, harder still to sort.
But let us follow a single note.
Quiet. Distant. Almost swallowed by the noise — and yet present.
Persistent, like a heartbeat.
A sharp, blinding gleam breaks through. The world turns bright.
A giant opens a door, heavy as a castle gate.
Around us, books rise like miniature skyscrapers, pens stand like the masts of a harbor. On the wall hangs a poster of a superhero, his gaze fixed and vigilant, as if silently judging every corner of the room.
But none of it is truly large.
Only we are small. Tiny.
Further. Follow the sound.
We drift down a hallway, past lockers that jut out like steel cliffs and students whose voices swirl like shifting currents. The corridor spills into a cafeteria, alive and loud like a raging ocean — a sea of teenagers eating, laughing, arguing, living.
And there sits our sound.
A boy.
Bent over a comic book as if it held the secret of how to save the world. His pen scratches across a notebook again and again. His foot taps the floor — not nervously, but in rhythm with his thoughts.
Then three other boys slide up to his table. Trays in hand. Grins on their faces.
"Erick."
No reaction.
The speaker leans forward a little.
"Erick! Lost somewhere in the multiverse again?"
Erick blinks up, as if someone had hauled him out of the deeper layers of his mind.
"Huh? How long have you been standing there?"
"A minute," the first one says, lifting a brow. "Seriously, what's got you this absorbed? Still reading the comic with the broccoli guy?"
"The broccoli guy has a name," Erick mutters — not annoyed, just halfway stuck between the world of panels and the world around him.
He pushes the comic aside a bit.
"I was just… thinking how much you could get out of a character if you rewrote his backstory. Really rewrote it—"
The boy on his right throws up his hands dramatically.
"Oh no. Not another rework. Fine, let's hear it — what powers this time?"
Erick leans forward, and his eyes spark as if someone lit a match inside them.
"Basically, he can harden himself. Simple ability. But imagine… he had a completely different childhood. Entirely different. What if…"
His voice fades.
The cafeteria dissolves.
The sounds lose their shape.
We rise — through the ceiling, past the roof, higher and higher until nothing remains but sky.
The noise becomes a thought.
The thought becomes a spark.
And now imagine…
that a single spark is enough
to ignite a new world.
A world diverging from the original.
A story no longer bound to its template —
but to its own destiny.