Sitting at a massive table in the crowded cafeteria, Lucid felt profoundly out of place. Mary sat beside him, her shoulder almost brushing his, while Brian occupied most of the bench on the other side. Garfield, a lanky boy with a perpetually dramatic air, was squeezed into the tiny space next to Brian, looking like a folded-up piece of origami. It was a comical sight, but the humor died when Lucid looked down at his tray.
Food here was clearly a necessity, not something to be enjoyed. On his plate sat a rock-hard piece of grey bread, a bowl of cold, murky radish soup, and a glass of water so cloudy it looked like it had been scooped from a puddle. It was institutional neglect.
"Are you going to eat that, Lucid?" Brian asked, his eyes already glued to the unappetizing spread.
Lucid looked up, relieved that he wouldn't have to attempt biting the bread and loose teeth in the process. "No. Have at it."
Brian's massive hands, which seemed almost dainty compared to the rest of him, scooped up the tray with glee. Lucid turned his attention to Garfield. He was… well, he was Garfield. The most awkward tone in the group, a title that had previously belonged to Lucid himself. Garfield was playing with his food, carefully stacking bread crusts into a precarious little house.
Lucid glanced at Mary. It was weird how she was always so close. He didn't exactly mind, but it felt like she was intruding on his personal bubble, inch by inch. She wasn't eating either. Instead, she was scribbling furiously in a notebook, her brow furrowed in concentration.
Nothing about this group was normal. One had a bottomless pit for a stomach. Another was a wannabe artist who secretly was a master at combat. The third was a study freak. And somewhere in that mix was Lucid. He couldn't say he was particularly normal, either.
"This whole group is insane," he thought, not directing it at anyone, just stating a fact.
"Well," Alice chimed in softly, "there is no 'normal,' Lucid. Everyone is unique in their own way."
"Yeah, but still." Lucid tried to protest.
Mary looked up suddenly, as if remembering something important. "Garfield, that reminds me. Why are you eating in this cafeteria? There's one reserved just for the black badges. I heard the food there is… actual food."
"Nonsense!" Garfield declared, striking a pose even while sitting. "One should not merely consume alimentation for *enjoyment*. That is a deviation from its true purpose: nourishment!"
"As an aspiring artist, all sustenance has its place! And I shall pick and choose mine based on aesthetic and philosophical merit!"
"A noble thought, though thoroughly impractical," Mary muttered under her breath, pushing her glasses up.
"Anyway," she continued, closing her notebook with a snap. "A day has passed since our training in the courtyard. Our assigned cleansing duty is this noon, right after lunch. Before we go, we should discuss our formation and possible roles. We still need to decide on a leader."
"Mary," Brian said abruptly, through a mouthful of Lucid's former bread.
"Mary. I shall not object," Garfield proclaimed with a theatrical wave.
"Yup. Mary," Lucid replied, his voice a low mumble.
She was taken aback, staggering for a moment before clearing her throat. "Mhm. Well, that was quick," she said shakily.
She looked down at her notes, then back at Lucid, her emerald eyes serious behind her cracked lenses. As Lucid absently picked up his murky water cup, lifting it toward his mouth to give it a skeptical sniff, Mary interrupted.
"Well, according to my data and psychological pattern analysis," she stated, her voice switching to a crisp, analytical tone, "the most suitable candidate for group leader is actually Lucid."
Lucid jerked, spilling the dubious water down his chin. "Huh?" he managed, wiping his face.
"Not only has he demonstrated bravery and a willingness to intervene for others," Mary continued, ticking points off on her fingers, "but he also exhibits a capacity for rapid adaptation. This was demonstrated by the way he mastered the basic parry stance in Battle and Survival class before yesterday with minimal visible effort after taking Garfield's advice. Statistically, he is the most suitable leader. Therefore, I would like to cast our votes anew." She raised her hand. "I vote for Lucid."
Brian, looking pleasantly stuffed, lifted a meaty hand. "Lucid."
"A noble shall protect their people's democratic values!" Garfield announced, striking another pose despite the bench's spatial constraints. "Lucid! You're up!"
Alice's voice giggled in his mind. "I vote for Lucid as well..."
'Well, shit,' Lucid thought.
He looked around the table at his companions' faces. They weren't mocking him. Brian's expression was open and trusting. Garfield's was theatrically earnest. Mary's was calm and analytical, but with a faint, sweet hopefulness at the edges. They were… really kind, in their own bizarre ways. It was unnerving.
He cleared his throat. "Ahem."
"I would like to state that I have no objections *in principle*," he began, choosing his words carefully, his voice flat. "But by electing me, you are essentially placing your lives in great risk. I am not a safe person to follow."
A moment of silence followed his grim pronouncement.
Then Mary chuckled. Brian let out a booming laugh. Garfield immediately imitated Lucid's solemn expression and grave tone.
"Oh, how tragic!" Garfield wailed, throwing the back of his hand to his forehead. "*I, Lucid, am the most dangerous individual to follow! By electing me, you are essentially trusting your lives with a ticking time bomb of doom!*"
Mary's chuckle turned into a soft, genuine laugh. "It's… okay, really," she said, smiling at him. "I trust you."
"We trust you," Brian echoed, his grin wide and reassuring.
Lucid looked down at the scarred wooden table. Against his will, he felt the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth. A tiny, almost imperceptible smile tried to form.
'No. No, no, no. Don't get attached,' he commanded himself fiercely. He looked back up, his expression carefully reassembled into its usual blank mask.
"Well," he said, standing up. The legs of his chair scraped loudly on the stone floor. "Let's get to that cleansing, then. The sooner we start, the sooner it's over."
He turned and walked toward the cafeteria doors, not waiting to see if they followed. But the sound of three chairs scraping back in unison, and the familiar, clumsy footsteps of Brian, the analytical murmur of Mary, and the dramatic sighs of Garfield told him everything he needed to know. For better or worse, he was stuck with them. And, he realized with a sinking feeling that wasn't entirely unpleasant, they were stuck with him.
***
"Class A of the second year!"
A stern professor with iron-grey hair and a vicious scar running down his cheek barked the words. He was flanked by a few other grim-looking instructors. This was Battle and Survival class, and it meant business.
"You are split into six groups! In each group, there are four students!"
Six clusters of students stood aligned on the field before the looming treeline of the Blue Forest. Lucid noted it seemed to be only second-years; he couldn't spot Frederick anywhere.
"The Blue Forest has claimed many fallen of high rank. I suggest you do not stray from the marked, designated area. Stray away, and you die."
The professor's voice was flat, leaving no room for doubt.
"The purpose of this exercise is to evaluate any promising individuals in Class A. Remember all that you have learned—not just in my class, but in all your others."
Lucid stepped forward, adjusting the strap of a borrowed spear across his back. He wore his old travel clothes, now roughly stitched up from various mishaps. To his left stood his assigned companions, who seemed to have fully embraced their roles.
Brian was clad in mismatched leather armor from head to toe, looking like a very concerned barrel with legs. He carried a massive wooden shield that was nearly as tall as he was wide. Garfield wore minimal armor but had an enormous sword strapped to his back, which protruded so far it looked like he was being followed by a metallic ironing board. Mary had donned a dark tunic and a wide-brimmed hat that she probably thought made her look like a mysterious witch, but mostly made her look like a mushroom.
"Oh, Lucid, you're here!" Mary called out, pushing her mushroom-hat up. "As you can see, I am the group's mage. Brian is the tank. Garfield is our primary attacker. As for you," she said, her tone shifting to something more formal, "you are our leader. I will, of course, suggest tactics, but the final decisions rely entirely on you."
Lucid just nodded. He turned to face the dark mouth of the forest. Behind him, his "party" stood ready.
"Shall we go?" Lucid said, already wanting this to be over.
"Wait!" Mary interrupted, holding up a finger. "We must strategize our initial approach based on probable fauna distribution and—"
ALRIGHT! THE GOALS ARE SIMPLE!" the scarred professor bellowed, cutting her off. "Many of you are unawakened, many are latent. We do not ask you to absorb fate essence. Your task is to eliminate as many unfaithful beasts as you can. Any anomalies you find, report them immediately. The group with the highest kill count, tracked by this artifact that measures dispersed fate essence," he held up a dull grey stone, "will secure a priority position in the clearance operation for the mass-scale Epsilon Rift. On your feet! Get set... GO!"
A wave of students surged forward, a chaotic sprint toward the trees. Alaric, the blonde bully from before, shot past Lucid with a vicious, triumphant smirk. Lucid didn't even register it.
He turned to his group. "Let's move."
But Brian, in his frantic attempt to hoist his colossal shield and run at the same time, had tripped over his own feet. He was now a groaning pile of leather and wood on the starting line, legs kicking in the air.
Garfield was trying to help, but his enormous sword kept getting tangled with Brian's shield. Mary was frantically scanning her notes, muttering about "optimal ingress vectors."
They were the only ones still at the starting line. The last group. The professor fixed them with a stare of profound disappointment.
Lucid sighed, the sound carrying the weight of the world. He walked over, planted a foot on Brian's shield, and pulled. With a grunt and a *shloop* sound, Brian was extracted.
"Up," Lucid said, his voice devoid of all hope. "We're going into the scary forest now."
"Right! For glory! And art!" Garfield declared, finally freeing his sword.
"Tactical advance!" Mary squeaked, clutching her hat.
And so, Lucid's party, he leader, the tank who had beaten the ground, the attack who was also a poet, and the mage who was mostly a librarian, finally, clumsily, entered the Blue Forest. They were dead last, and the trees seemed to swallow them with a sigh of their own.