The blonde boy stared at Lucid's hand wrapped around his wrist, his expression twisting from surprise into something ugly. The smirk vanished completely, replaced by a look of pure contempt.
"Did you just touch me?" the boy said slowly, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. He looked at his two friends, his eyes wide with exaggerated shock. "Did a silver badge just put his hands on me?"
The other two boys stepped closer, forming a half-circle around Lucid. One of them, a stocky kid with a square jaw, let out a low whistle.
"I saw it," the square-jawed boy said. "He grabbed you, Alaric. That's assault on a noble."
"Assault," the third boy repeated, nodding enthusiastically. He was shorter than the others, with beady eyes and a sharp nose. "That's serious. You could get expelled for that."
Alaric, the blonde one, yanked his wrist free from Lucid's grip. He rubbed at it dramatically, as if Lucid had burned him with acid. "You disgusting commoner. You think you can just put your filthy hands on me? Do you have any idea who I am?"
'I really don't,' Lucid thought tiredly. 'And I don't care.'
But he didn't say that out loud. He just stood there, his expression blank, his shoulders loose. He could see everything. The way Alaric's pupils dilated slightly. The way his heartbeat quickened, visible in the faint pulse at his throat. The grey threads of fate that curled around all three boys like smoke, thin and weak.
'E-rank,' Lucid observed distantly. 'Latents. Not even awakened. Their threads are so faint they might as well not exist.'
Mary was still on her knees, clutching her scattered books to her chest. She looked up at Lucid with wide, frightened eyes. "It's okay," she whispered. "Just let them have the glasses. It's fine."
Alaric glanced down at her with disgust. "Shut up, four-eyes. Nobody asked you to speak."
"Yeah," the square-jawed boy added, sneering. "Know your place, silver trash."
'Don't get involved,' Lucid told himself again. 'This is stupid. You don't know these people. You don't owe them anything. Just walk away.'
But his feet didn't move.
Alaric stepped closer, his face inches from Lucid's. "You're new here, aren't you? Let me explain how things work at this academy. Black badges are nobility. Real nobility. We run this place. Silver badges?" He spat the word like it was poison. "You're charity cases. Commoners who scraped together enough money to beg for a spot. You're here to serve us. To know your place. And your place is beneath us."
"Okay," Lucid said flatly.
Alaric blinked, clearly thrown off by the response. "Okay? That's all you have to say?"
"Yeah. Okay. Now give the glasses back."
The stocky boy laughed, a harsh, ugly sound. "This guy's got a death wish."
Alaric's expression darkened. "You know what? I don't think I will give them back. I think I'll keep them. Maybe I'll throw them out a window. Or maybe I'll step on them. What do you think, silver badge? Which would you prefer?"
Lucid sighed. 'Why am I still standing here?' he wondered. 'Why am I doing this?'
He didn't have an answer. He just knew that the sight of Mary on her knees, the way her hands were shaking as she tried to gather her books, the way these three idiots were laughing at her like it was the funniest thing in the world, it all made something cold and hard settle in his chest.
'I really don't want to get involved,' he thought. 'But I guess I already am.'
Alaric raised his fist. Lucid saw it coming from a mile away. The movement was so slow, so telegraphed, that it was almost comical. He could see the muscles tensing in Alaric's shoulder, the shift in his weight as he prepared to swing. He could have dodged it easily. Could have stepped back, or to the side, or caught the fist before it even reached him.
But he didn't.
'Don't stand out,' he reminded himself. 'Don't react. Just take it.'
The fist connected with his jaw. Pain exploded across his face, sharp and bright. His head snapped to the side, and he stumbled back a step, his vision blurring for a moment.
"That's what you get, you filthy commoner!" Alaric shouted, shaking out his hand. "You think you can disrespect me? You think you can put your hands on a noble?"
The stocky boy grabbed Lucid by the collar and shoved him against the wall. The impact knocked the air from his lungs. "You're nothing," the boy hissed in his face. "You hear me? Nothing. You're lucky we don't drag you outside and beat you until you can't walk."
The shorter boy with the beady eyes stepped forward, his hand raised. Lucid saw the faint shimmer of fate essence gathering around his palm, threads of grey light twisting and coiling.
"I'm a Latent," the boy said smugly. "You know what that means, silver trash? It means I can use spells. Real spells. Not like you pathetic unawkened who can barely sense your own fate threads."
He thrust his hand forward, and a bolt of grey energy shot out, slamming into Lucid's chest. It felt like being hit with a sledgehammer. Lucid gasped, his back slamming harder against the wall. The spell left a burning sensation across his ribs, like someone had pressed a hot iron against his skin.
"My older brother is awakened," Alaric said, stepping closer again. His voice was smug, dripping with arrogance. "A real awakened. Do you know what he could do to you? He could erase you from existence. He could make it so you never even set foot in this academy. One word from me, and you're done."
Lucid didn't respond. He just stood there, leaning against the wall, his breathing shallow. He could feel the bruises forming on his jaw, his chest, his ribs. The pain was sharp and insistent, but he didn't let it show on his face.
'Just take it,' he told himself. 'Don't fight back. Don't stand out.'
The three boys laughed, taking turns shoving him, kicking at his legs, calling him names. Trash. Filth. Worthless. Commoner scum. The words washed over him like water, meaningless and hollow.
Mary was crying now, tears streaming down her face as she clutched her books. "Stop it!" she cried out, her voice breaking. "Please, just stop!"
But they didn't stop.
Finally, after what felt like hours but was probably only a few minutes, Alaric stepped back, brushing off his hands like he'd touched something dirty. "Come on," he said to his friends. "Let's go. I'm bored of this."
The shorter boy tossed Mary's glasses on the ground in front of her, one of the lenses cracked. "Here. You can have them back, four-eyes. Consider it a gift."
The three of them walked away, laughing and joking like nothing had happened. Their voices echoed down the hallway, fading into the distance.
Lucid stood there for a moment, leaning against the wall, his body aching. Then he felt it. A warmth spreading through his chest, gentle and soothing. The burning sensation from the spell faded first, then the pain in his ribs, then his jaw. The bruises disappeared, the marks on his skin smoothing out as if they'd never been there.
"That was admirable, Lucid," Alice's voice said softly in his mind. There was something strange in her tone. Not quite approval, but not quite disapproval either. Something in between.
'What was admirable?' Lucid thought back tiredly. 'Getting beaten up?'
"Standing up for someone," Alice replied. "Even when you didn't want to. Even when it cost you."
'I didn't stand up for anyone. I just stood there and took it.'
"Exactly."
Mary scrambled to pick up her glasses, her hands shaking as she tried to fit the cracked lens back into the frame. She looked up at Lucid, her eyes red from crying, her face blotchy and tear-stained.
"Are you okay?" she asked, her voice trembling. "You're hurt. We should go to the infirmary. We should tell someone. This isn't right. They can't just—"
"I'm fine," Lucid said. He pushed off from the wall, swaying slightly. His head felt heavy, his thoughts sluggish. The healing had taken care of the physical damage, but it didn't do anything for the exhaustion that was settling into his bones.
He started walking down the corridor, his steps uneven and unsteady. He just wanted to find somewhere quiet. Somewhere he could sit down and not think about anything.
"Wait!" Mary called after him. She hurried to catch up, her books clutched to her chest, her broken glasses perched crookedly on her nose. "Please, wait. I should thank you. You didn't have to do that. You didn't have to help me."
Lucid didn't stop walking. "I didn't help you."
"But you did. You stood up to them. You—"
"Stop following me," Lucid said, his voice flat.
Mary stopped in her tracks. She stood there in the middle of the hallway, her shoulders hunched, her expression hurt and confused. Lucid kept walking, putting distance between them.
He heard her voice call out behind him, small and hesitant and awkward.
"Thank you!"
Lucid didn't turn around. He just kept walking, his footsteps echoing down the empty corridor, his thoughts a tangled mess he didn't have the energy to sort through.
'Why did I do that?' he wondered. 'Why didn't I just walk away?'
He still didn't have an answer.