"I mean, what am I supposed to do, Professor Sylsima?"
She sighed softly, but in a way that carried more disappointment than irritation, and flicked my forehead.
"Anything but sitting down and doing nothing would be better."
I blinked at her.
That… was not helpful.
I mean, not wrong, but not helpful.
For a brief, desperate moment, I thought she might continue. Clarify. Offer even a fraction of guidance that didn't sound like it could be applied to literally any situation in life.
She didn't.
Professor Sylsima had already turned away, her attention shifting seamlessly to another student who had just managed to launch their attack in a completely unintended direction.
Which meant I was now expected to… what, exactly?
I rubbed my forehead with a quiet exhale and pushed myself off the post, stepping onto the training field with all the enthusiasm of someone voluntarily walking into a shitty gangster street.
I didn't go far, just enough to technically count as participation, before stopping again.
This was reasonable enough.
A safe distance from everyone else. Enough space to avoid collateral damage. Enough distance to observe.
And most importantly, far enough that if something went catastrophically wrong, it wouldn't immediately involve me.
I folded my arms briefly, then let them drop again, reconsidering.
'No, that looks too much like I'm still doing nothing.'
I straightened slightly instead, settling into a neutral stance that suggested I might, at any moment, do something impressive.
I would not.
But the illusion was important.
The problem was simple: everyone else felt something.
They gathered energy like it was second nature.
I felt… nothing.
No current under my skin. No pull in the air. No sense of something waiting to be shaped.
Just myself.
Entirely, inconveniently myself.
Which led to the very real concern that whatever I attempted could either result in nothing… or, well, nothing.
Personally, I would rather humiliate myself than risk being murdered.
"Lord Atlas."
I didn't turn immediately, mostly because I knew who was calling my name.
A voice I didn't miss.
When I finally glanced to the side, Lucien was already there, standing close enough that his presence felt intentional rather than coincidental. There was no obvious provocation, at the very least. His expression was calm, composed, and, if anything, slightly sharp.
"What are you doing?" he asked.
"I'm figuring that out, Your Highness," I replied.
His gaze lingered for a moment, clearly unconvinced.
"Standing still isn't part of the exercise. Besides, Lord Atlas, there is no status to respect here. You may call me Lord Lucien."
Dang, that's true. Only the female lead called him that. Of course, no one got used to it on the first few days, but now it's been a week.
This is my moment.
"I gathered as much. I appreciate the great honor you've given me, Lord Lucien."
Before he could respond, the atmosphere shifted noticeably enough that I didn't need to look to know we were no longer alone.
Footsteps approached, steady and unhurried.
'I swear on everything that lives that if those two are actually approaching me...'
Rowan stepped into view first, his presence as grounded as ever, like the space itself adjusted around him. Cassian was just behind him, quieter, his expression unreadable in that particular way that suggested he had already formed an opinion and found it lacking.
And just like that, my somewhat manageable situation became… significantly less manageable.
Rowan's attention settled on me with unsurprising directness. There was no hesitation in his tone when he spoke, no awkwardness, no sense that this interaction was unusual.
"Lord Atlas," he said, "want to eat lunch together later?"
For a moment, I genuinely thought I had misheard him.
Not because the words were unclear, but because they made absolutely no sense in the context of my carefully constructed avoidance strategy.
'Had I not been doing an excellent job of not interacting with him?'
Apparently not excellent enough.
Outwardly, I tried keeping my expression neutral, thoughtful even, as if this were a perfectly normal request that required only mild consideration.
"What an honoring proposal," I said slowly. "I don't see why not."
'No. Absolutely not. Why is this happening? I was doing so well.'
Rowan gave a small nod, frowning slightly, seemingly unsatisfied with something, which only made it worse. He wasn't pushing. He wasn't questioning.
He was simply accepting it.
Which somehow made declining later feel significantly more complicated.
Cassian, unsurprisingly, had no interest in social invitations.
His attention was fixed entirely on the far more pressing issue: me doing absolutely nothing.
"You're not trying," he said, his tone flat and unembellished.
I felt irritation spark almost immediately, sharp and unwelcome. I turned my head slightly, meeting his gaze with a level look.
"I am," I replied. "I'm thinking."
"You don't have kinetic energy anyway," he continued, unfazed, "or you would have felt it by now."
I couldn't do much other than awkwardly smile.
'Who would have thought? Aren't you such a genius...'
Then Elinor stepped in as though he had always been part of the conversation, his presence effortless and unhurried. There was something distinctly amused in his expression as his gaze flicked toward Cassian.
"That's boring," he said lightly. "If you're going to criticize someone, at least make it interesting."
For a brief moment, no one spoke.
Lucien looked faintly entertained. Rowan remained neutral, as if this dynamic was entirely expected. Cassian's gaze shifted, not backing down, but no longer focused solely on me.
And I finally processed the situation I was in.
I was standing in the middle of all four of them.
Lucien to my left. Rowan just ahead. Cassian slightly to the right. Elinor closing the space behind the conversation like a perfectly placed final piece.
From the outside, this probably looked… significant.
Being in the middle of the academy's four hotties.
'Why am I here?!'
A very quiet, very immediate instinct told me to leave.
Slowly.
Without drawing attention.
I shifted my weight back, testing the space behind me. No one moved to stop me.
Good.
That was good.
One step.
Then another.
I angled slightly, preparing to slip out of the circle.
Then heat flared too close to my side.
It happened fast.
Too fast to properly track.
Someone, somewhere, lost control of their fire. A burst of flame shot off-course, veering toward me at an angle that left very little room for a graceful reaction.
"Atlas!"
I don't know which one of them screamed my name, but it wasn't nearly enough to save my butt.
I turned instinctively, raising my hand in a half-assed attempt to shield myself, already bracing for impact.
But the heat never came.
The fire reached me—
and stopped.
It folded.
The flames bent inward, collapsing toward my hand like something was pulling them in. For a split second, the light distorted, the shape of the fire warping unnaturally—
and then it vanished.
"What…"
The word left me under my breath, quiet and disbelieving.
I turned my head.
And oh boy, was I screwed.