Chapter Seven: Survival
The lecture hall for Survival of the Fittest was
different from the others. Less polished. More functional. The walls were
covered with maps, terrain photos, diagrams of shelter construction that looked
like they'd been used for actual instruction rather than decoration. Equipment
hung from hooks—rope, tarps, fire-starting kits. Everything practical, nothing
decorative.
Very utilitarian. Very "we're here to keep you
alive, not impress you."
Aki arrived at 1255. Five minutes early, but the
room was already half-full. Mixed cohort meant chaos—Fated students in their
colored uniforms clustering by Path like tribes, grey-clad Forsaken gravitating
to empty spaces along the walls like they'd been trained to stay separated.
Social dynamics. Visible and depressing.
He took a seat in the back. Good sightlines. Wall
behind him. Standard protocol for people who'd learned not to trust their
surroundings.
More students filtered in. Purple uniforms—Pulse.
Green—Mend. Blue—Verse. Gold—Curio. Red—Echo. Silver—Dream. Black—Ink. And
scattered throughout, the grey uniforms with colored trim marking Forsaken by
their Paths.
Walking warning labels. That's what the grey meant.
At exactly 1300, the instructor entered.
He was older than Maren but younger than Vael.
Mid-forties maybe. Tall, lean, weathered in a way that suggested decades spent
outdoors rather than in lecture halls or comfortable offices. His Order uniform
was more practical than formal—reinforced fabric, boots made for hiking,
visible wear on the knees and elbows that meant he actually used them. Gear
clipped to his belt. A knife. Compass. Other tools Aki didn't recognize but
assumed were essential.
His face was tanned, lined around the eyes from
squinting in sunlight. Dark hair going grey at the temples. And when he moved
to the front of the room, he moved with the kind of easy confidence that came
from knowing exactly what his body could do and what would kill him.
Someone who'd survived things. Real things. Not just
theory.
"Survival of the Fittest," he announced. Voice rough
but clear, the kind that carried without shouting. "I'm Instructor Garrick.
I've been teaching this course for twelve years. Before that, I spent twenty
years with the Order's wilderness reconnaissance division." He set a worn pack
on the desk with the kind of care that meant it had saved his life more than
once. "This course exists because Paths don't make you invincible. They make
you dangerous in specific ways. But if you're lost, injured, or separated from
support, your Path alone won't save you. You need practical skills. That's what
I teach."
He pulled up a projection—a map of the region
surrounding Veylan Academy. Forests. Mountains. Rivers. Terrain that looked
beautiful in photographs and completely unforgiving in person.
"Before we discuss course structure, let's establish
reality." Garrick's voice dropped. Harder. "The world doesn't care about your
Thread level. It doesn't care if you're Fated or Forsaken, rich or poor,
talented or struggling. Nature is indifferent. It will kill you with the same
efficiency whether you're Thread 1 or Thread 10. Weather doesn't discriminate.
Starvation doesn't check your credentials. Injury doesn't wait for you to be
ready."
Aki leaned forward slightly. This was the first
instructor who'd said something that actually matched his experience.
Garrick walked to the window. Gestured at the forest
beyond campus. "Out there, the only thing that matters is whether you can
adapt. Whether you can survive when everything goes wrong. Because it will go
wrong. Plans fail. Equipment breaks. People panic. And in those moments, the
world sorts you into two categories: those who survive and those who don't."
The room was silent. Students shifted uncomfortably.
Probably not used to instructors being this blunt about mortality.
"Survival of the fittest," Garrick continued.
"That's not just the course name. It's the fundamental law. The strong adapt.
The weak die. The smart learn. The stupid repeat mistakes until nature corrects
them permanently."
Aki's hands clenched under the desk.
He knew that law. Had lived it every day for
eighteen years.
Choosing between rent and food. Between medicine and
heat. Between dignity and survival. The world sorting him into
categories—pathless, worthless, disposable—and expecting him to accept it
quietly.
He'd fought that sorting his entire life. Clawed
through it. Survived it through spite and stubbornness and refusing to die
quietly.
And he was still fighting.
Garrick turned back to face the class. "This course
will test you. Not your Path. *You*. Your judgment. Your adaptability. Your
ability to function when comfortable options disappear." His eyes swept the
room, landing briefly on each student. "Some of you will excel. Some will
struggle. Some will fail. That's natural selection. And unlike other courses, I
don't grade on effort. I grade on results. Because in the real world, trying
hard doesn't matter if you die anyway."
Brutal. Honest. Refreshing.
The projection shifted to show Path-specific
applications.
"Every Path has survival advantages and
limitations," Garrick said. "Pulse users—strength, durability, speed. Good for
physical challenges. Bad for energy conservation. Enhancement burns calories
faster than normal activity. Starve yourself while using Pulse and you'll
collapse faster than an unpowered person."
He moved to the next Path. "Mend users—healing,
water purification, plant identification. Extremely valuable in survival
situations. But healing costs energy. Prioritize wrong and you'll exhaust
yourself trying to fix minor injuries while serious threats go unaddressed."
Across the room, Aki noticed the green-scarred
kid—Sol—taking notes furiously. Writing down every word like it was scripture.
"Verse users—elemental manipulation, light, heat.
Versatile. But verses require focus and emotional stability. Panic and your
verses backfire. I've seen Verse users accidentally start forest fires trying
to create controlled flames for warmth."
"Curio users—artifact and relic creation. You can
craft tools, containers, temporary shelters. Problem: creation takes time and
materials. Under stress, quality suffers. Run out of resources and you're
limited to what you remembered to bring."
"Echo users—clone creation. Multiple versions of
yourself scouting, working, covering ground. Excellent for reconnaissance and
multitasking. But each clone splits consciousness and energy. Overextend and
you'll lose coordination or collapse from exhaustion."
"Dream users—astral projection and illusions. Scout
without physical risk. Create diversions. Gather information remotely.
Limitation: your body is vulnerable during projection. You need protection
while you're elsewhere."
"Ink users—creature and object manifestation. You
can create tools, weapons, support constructs, even living entities from
nothing. You shape glyphs for structural support or tactical advantage.
Extremely versatile. Weakness: manifestations require sustained concentration.
Lose focus and they dissolve. Also, complex creations drain you faster than
simple ones."
Garrick dismissed the projection. "Path synergy
matters. Teams that coordinate their abilities survive. Teams that don't, fail.
Which brings us to the reality you're all avoiding: Forsaken integration."
The temperature in the room dropped.
Several Fated students shifted uncomfortably. A few
glanced at the grey uniforms scattered throughout the room.
"Forsaken students are in this course. Mixed into
teams. Not separate. Not isolated. Integrated." Garrick's expression didn't
change. Clinical. Matter-of-fact. "Some of you think this is dangerous. You're
right. Forsaken are unstable. But here's what you're missing—instability is
visible. Predictable. A Forsaken showing signs of destabilization gives you
warning. A Fated student hiding panic until they make a fatal mistake gives you
nothing."
He pulled up emergency protocols. "Every team gets a
suppression kit. One dose. Enough to stabilize a destabilizing Forsaken for
thirty minutes. Learn to use it. Because if your Forsaken teammate starts
spiraling and you freeze, you all die."
A Curio student raised his hand. Gold uniform,
Thread 2 based on the confident way he sat. "Have there been casualties?"
"Three," Garrick said bluntly. No hesitation. No
softening. "First: Forsaken exploded during solo navigation exercise. No team
casualties because he'd already separated from the group. Second: Forsaken
destabilized during river crossing. Team used suppression kit correctly.
Everyone survived. Third: Forsaken destabilized during night exercise. Team
panicked, didn't use kit fast enough. Forsaken died. Two teammates injured from
the explosion."
Silence.
Heavy. Uncomfortable.
"That third incident," Garrick continued, "happened
because the team treated their Forsaken member as a liability instead of a
teammate. They didn't communicate. Didn't watch for warning signs. Didn't trust
each other. And when crisis hit, they froze." His voice went cold. "Natural
selection. The team that couldn't adapt failed. That's the law."
Aki felt something tighten in his chest. Not anger.
Recognition.
The world sorting people into categories. Deciding
who mattered and who didn't. Who deserved to survive and who was acceptable
loss.
Near the front, Reya's pen stilled mid-note. For a
fraction of a second, her jaw tightened—a small, controlled flinch that didn't
match her usual calm. Then she kept writing, as if nothing had happened.
Aki noticed anyway. Because he'd been watching for
reactions. Cataloging who flinched and who didn't.
He'd been acceptable loss his entire life.
But he'd survived anyway. Not because the world was
fair. Because he refused to die quietly.
Garrick switched projections. "Team assignments.
Four per team. Mixed Paths. Mixed cohorts. Based on Thread levels and
compatibility assessments."
Names appeared on the screen.
**Team Seven:**
- Aki Sith, Pulse, Forsaken, Thread 3
- Reya Ashtray, Echo, Forsaken, Thread 4
- Destin Hale, Dream, Fated, Thread 3
- Jorin Marks, Curio, Fated, Thread 3
- Sol Apollon, Mend, Forsaken, Thread 1
Three Forsaken. Two Fated. Five members total.
Wait. Five members. Most teams had four.
Aki scanned the other team listings. Most were four.
A few had five. Probably because the numbers didn't divide evenly.
Great. An odd team. Already marked as different.
Garrick finished reading assignments. "Forty minutes
for initial team meetings. Next two week session , Thursday 1300, forest
training grounds. First practical exercise: navigation and checkpoint
retrieval. Four hours. Three checkpoints. No Curio devices for navigation. No
shortcuts. Just your Path, your team, and your ability to adapt." He checked
his watch. "Dismissed at 1340. Use your time wisely."
Students stood. The room filled with movement as
people found their teams.
Aki stayed seated. Waited for the initial chaos to
clear.
Across the room, Lira was grouped with three Fated
students who looked like they'd rather be anywhere else. One was already
arguing with Garrick about the assignment.
Reya caught Aki's eye. Gestured to an empty corner
away from the main crowd.
Aki stood. Walked over.
Three others were already there.
**Destin Hale** stood with perfect posture, arms
crossed. Silver Dream Path uniform. Tanned skin, black hair cut short and
practical, silver eyes that tracked movement with unsettling precision. He
studied Aki the way scientists studied specimens—clinical, detached,
cataloging.
**Jorin Marks** leaned against the wall, radiating
disapproval. Gold Curio Path uniform. Red hair slicked back, red eyes behind
thin glasses that caught the light. He looked like someone who'd spent his
entire life being told he was smarter than everyone else and had started
believing it.
**Sol Apollon** stood slightly apart from the
others, green Mend Path trim visible on his grey Forsaken uniform. Green scars
glowing faintly down both arms. He looked nervous. Looked like he was trying
very hard not to look nervous and failing completely.
Reya dropped her bag on the floor with deliberate
casualness. "Team Seven. Let's get this over with."
Destin studied Aki with that clinical focus. "You're
the Thread 3 Forsaken who destabilized this morning in Maren's class."
"And you're the guy who leads with that." Aki's
voice was flat. "Great start. Very team-building."
"I'm establishing context. Baseline risk
assessment." Destin's voice was calm, measured. Like he was reading from a
manual. "Destin Hale. Dream Path, Thread 3. Astral projection and illusion
creation. I can scout ahead without physical risk and create visual
diversions."
"Aki. Pulse Path. Thread 3 efficiency, Thread 1
control." He didn't sugarcoat it. No point. They'd find out anyway. "I hit hard
and regenerate fast. I also might explode if things go wrong. There's your
context."
Sol made a small sound. Not quite a laugh, not quite
a nervous exhale.
Reya's expression didn't change but something
flickered in her eyes. Amusement maybe. "Honesty. Refreshing." She looked at
Jorin. "Your turn."
Jorin pushed his glasses up with one finger.
Deliberate. Precise. "Jorin Marks. Thread 3 Curio. I craft artifacts, navigate
terrain, and solve logistical problems." His red eyes fixed on Aki, then Reya,
then Sol. "And for the record, I didn't volunteer for this team composition."
"Noted," Reya said. Her voice stayed light but
something sharp edged into it. "Unfortunately for you, neither did we. So we're
all stuck together."
Sol cleared his throat. Quiet. Hesitant. "Um. I'm
Sol. Sol Apollon. Mend Path, Thread 1. I can—I'm learning to heal and purify
water and identify plants." His words came faster, nervous rambling starting.
"I'm still figuring out control so I might not be very useful but I'll try my
best and I promise I won't—"
"Breathe," Aki said. Flat. Not kind, just practical.
Sol stopped. Took a breath. "Sorry. I talk too much
when I'm nervous."
"We noticed," Jorin muttered.
Reya pulled out a notebook, flipping it open with
practiced efficiency. "Forty minutes. Let's figure out if we can work together
or if we're all failing this course." She looked at each of them in turn.
"Strengths. Weaknesses. Be honest or we die. Simple."
The conversation moved to strategy.
Destin could project his consciousness ahead, scout
routes without physical risk. His illusions could create diversions or confuse
threats. "Range is approximately five hundred meters. Duration depends on
complexity. Simple illusions—light, sound—I can maintain for an hour. Complex
scenarios drain me in minutes."
Reya's clones could cover multiple routes
simultaneously. "Three clones maximum—perfect copies of me. They're autonomous,
but I feel what they feel. Pain, exhaustion, everything. If one gets injured, I
feel it. If one dies—" She paused. "I feel that too. So don't let them die."
She flipped her pen between her fingers, almost
absently. "I can also weaponize sound. Controlled frequencies—mostly
concussive, sometimes lethal if I push it. Think… directional scream."
Aki raised a brow. "So, what, you yell people to
death?"
"If necessary," she said simply. "It's efficient."
Sol winced. "Remind me not to make you angry."
"Good plan," Reya said dryly.
Jorin could navigate using Curio-crafted compasses
and markers. Could craft temporary tools—rope, containers, basic shelter
components. "I need materials. Can't create from nothing. And quality degrades
under stress. Rushed work fails."
Sol could heal injuries, purify water, identify
edible plants. "Healing costs me more than normal Mend users. Apollon family
mutation. Every heal—it hurts. A lot. And it shortens my lifespan." His voice
got quieter. "So I can't heal everything. I have to prioritize."
Aki could handle physical threats. Enhanced strength
and speed, though using it would probably break his bones. Regeneration that
hurt worse than the initial injury. "I'm good for one major fight. Maybe two if
I'm lucky. After that I'm useless or exploding."
On paper, balanced. Dream user for reconnaissance.
Echo user for coverage. Curio user for tools. Mend user for support. Pulse user
for combat.
In reality, Jorin clearly resented having three
Forsaken on the team. Destin analyzed everything with unsettling precision that
made Aki want to punch him. Sol looked one wrong word away from crying. And Aki
was one bad moment away from proving everyone right about Forsaken being
dangerous.
"Suppression kit," Reya said, pulling out a small
case. "One dose. Thirty-minute stabilization. Who carries it?"
"I will," Destin said immediately.
"Why you?" Jorin's voice was sharp.
"Because I can monitor emotional states. I'll know
who's destabilizing before they do."
Aki's jaw tightened. "You want to read our emotional
states. Constantly."
"For the team's survival. Yes."
Every instinct said no. Said this was invasion. Said
trusting someone to monitor his emotions was asking to be used against him.
But this was survival. And refusing meant proving he
couldn't handle cooperation.
"Fine," Aki said. "But only for destabilization
monitoring. Not general surveillance."
"Agreed."
Sol's hands shook slightly. "You can read emotions?
Like, right now?"
"Yes."
"What am I feeling?"
Destin's eyes unfocused briefly. Dream Path
activating. "Terror. Barely contained. Grief. Fresh and raw. Guilt.
Overwhelming. And hope. Desperate, clinging."
Sol's face went white.
"That's enough," Aki said sharply.
Destin refocused. "Baseline established."
"That wasn't a baseline, that was—" Sol's voice
cracked. He stopped. Forced himself to breathe. Four count. In. Hold. Out.
Hold.
Reya looked at Destin. Her expression was carefully
neutral but her voice dropped. "Emotional monitoring for destabilization. Not
casual invasion. Clear?"
"Clear."
She turned to Aki. "Your turn. He needs your
baseline."
Aki wanted to refuse. Wanted to walk away. Wanted to
not give this stranger access to the parts of himself he kept buried.
But refusing meant the team failed. Meant proving he
couldn't adapt.
"Do it," he said.
Destin's eyes unfocused again, pupils dilating as
the faint shimmer of Dream Path activation spread across his irises.
Aki folded his arms. "You gonna stare at me like
that the whole semester, or just until it gets weird?"
"It's already weird," Jorin muttered.
"Quiet," Destin said calmly, still halfway in
trance. "I'm assessing baseline."
"Assess faster," Aki shot back. "I don't like being
emotionally undressed."
Destin blinked once. The shimmer faded. "Done."
"Well?" Reya asked, half-bored, half-curious.
Destin's tone was so matter-of-fact it somehow made
everything worse.
"Anger. Low-level constant. Resentment at perceived
judgment. Exhaustion. Determination. And loneliness. Acute."
The word acute hung in the air like a medical
diagnosis.
Aki blinked. "Wow. Fantastic bedside manner. Should
I lie down and cry now, or do you bill by the trauma?"
Reya snorted, covering it badly as a cough.
Destin didn't even flinch. "Acknowledgment is part
of treatment."
"I'm not lonely," Aki said flatly. "I just—prefer
minimal human interaction for… safety reasons."
"That's what lonely people say," Reya murmured.
"Shut up," Aki said.
Sol looked genuinely sympathetic. "It's okay. I get
lonely too sometimes."
"I'm not lonely," Aki repeated, louder this time.
"I'm—selectively social."
Destin tilted his head like he was cataloguing a new
specimen. "Denial. Noted."
Aki's jaw tightened. "You wanna check for
embarrassment next? Because that's rapidly escalating."
Reya was laughing now, quiet but obvious. Even Jorin
looked mildly entertained, which for him was practically a standing ovation.
Destin just nodded once, unbothered. "Strong
emotional response. Confirms accuracy of loneliness reading."
"Unbelievable," Aki muttered. "You people are worse
than healers."
"Thank you," Destin said, genuinely mistaking it for
a compliment.
Reya leaned over to Aki. "See? Team bonding
already."
Aki groaned. "If this is bonding, I want a refund."
Jorin looked uncomfortable. "Do you need mine?"
"You're Fated. Stable. But yes."
Another ten seconds.
"Superiority. Resentment at team composition.
Anxiety about failure. Pride."
Jorin's jaw tightened. "Anything else?"
"That's sufficient."
Reya waved a hand. "Skip me. I know my baselines."
They spent the remaining time on logistics. Routes
through the forest. Checkpoint strategies. What to do if someone got injured.
What to do if someone destabilized.
Sol barely spoke except to confirm he could identify
safe water sources and basic medicinal plants. His hands kept shaking. His
green scars kept pulsing.
Jorin contributed tactical suggestions but kept his
distance from the Forsaken members. Stood slightly apart. Never made eye
contact with Sol.
Destin took notes with mechanical precision. Every
detail cataloged.
Reya managed the conversation, pulling information
from each person, building a framework that might actually work.
When Garrick called time, Jorin left immediately.
Didn't say goodbye. Just grabbed his things and walked out.
Destin lingered briefly. Looked at Aki. "Loneliness
isn't weakness. It's context. Useful data." Then he left too.
Sol stood there, looking lost. "I should—I'm going
to—" He gestured vaguely toward the door. "See you Thursday."
He left quickly. Almost running.
Reya packed slowly. Deliberately.
Aki stood. "You didn't have to manage that."
"Wasn't managing. Was preventing failure." She slung
her bag over her shoulder. "Thursday, 1300. Forest training grounds. Wear
layers. Bring water. Bring whatever you need to not explode."
She started toward the door, then paused. Looked
back.
"And Aki? This team is your chance to prove you're
not just a bomb. Don't waste it."
She left.
Aki stood alone in the empty corner.
Team Seven. Three Forsaken who might explode. Two
Fated who saw them as liabilities. And a practical exercise in two weeks where
everything could go wrong.
Two weeks. Not two days. Two weeks to figure out if
this team could actually function or if they'd fail spectacularly in front of
everyone.
He checked the time. 1345.
Next class: Pulse Path Practical Application. 1500.
Maren's class.
The one where he'd nearly lost control this morning.
His hands clenched. The gold scars pulsed faintly.
Four classes down. One more today.
Then two weeks of training. Of learning to work with
people who either resented him or were as broken as he was.
And then Thursday after that. The forest. Three
checkpoints. Four hours.
A team that would either adapt together or fail
separately.
Garrick's words echoed in his head.
*Survival of the fittest. The world sorts you into
two categories: those who survive and those who don't.*
Aki had been fighting that sorting his entire life.
The forest exercise would be another test.
Another chance to prove he belonged in the first
category.
Or die trying.
He gathered his things and left.
The hallway was mostly empty. A few students
lingering, discussing team assignments.
Ahead, he saw Sol walking alone. The kid's shoulders
were hunched. His hands were shoved in his pockets. Walking like he was trying
to disappear.
Aki could catch up. Could say something. Could
acknowledge they were on the same team.
But Sol had said he wouldn't bother Aki again. Had
promised.
And Aki had accepted that promise.
So he let the distance between them grow.
Let Sol walk ahead alone.
Not because he didn't care.
Because caring meant vulnerability. Meant giving
someone the power to hurt him.
And Aki had learned that lesson too many times
already.
He turned toward the Pulse training facilities.
One more class. Then he could collapse in his room
and pretend today hadn't been exhausting.
Small victories.
Except none of them felt like victories anymore.
Just survival.
One day at a time.
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