Michael's brow furrowed. Of all the places she could've sat, she'd chosen here. He didn't ask her why; he just went back to his food, though he couldn't help but notice how her presence changed the ambience of the cafeteria.
Nick tried to talk through a mouthful of stew. "Dish'd yo shea dhat shea dishdnut ownsher may—"
Michael raised an eyebrow. "What?"
Nick swallowed hard, thumping his chest. "I said, did you see that she didn't answer me?"
Luna set her spoon down with deliberate care, dabbing her mouth with a napkin before finally speaking. Her gaze lay on Nick, as if she was looking at an ant.
"I just didn't feel the need to reply to a nobody."
Nick gasped, nearly choking again. "Hey!"
But Luna's attention had already shifted. Her eyes fixed on Michael, cool and unblinking.
"And you," she said, voice calm but edged with curiosity, "who taught you to move like that?"
Michael watched her carefully. She's not threatening me, she's genuinely curious.
Out loud, he just shrugged. "Picked up a few things along the way."
Nick leaned over the table, stew dribbling from his spoon. "That's a dodge if I've ever heard one. Come on, Mikey, even I know footwork like that doesn't come from nowhere."
Michael stabbed a piece of bread from his tray, keeping his voice steady. "Let's just say… nobody worth mentioning."
Luna's eyes lingered on him, but she didn't press.
Nick swallowed the last of his stew with a dramatic groan. "Man, this is the life. Hot food, a roof and no one trying to stab me in my sleep... I could get used to this."
Michael gave him a flat look. "How often were people trying to stab you in your sleep?"
Nick wagged his spoon at him. "Often enough to make me appreciate the upgrade."
Across from them, Luna set down her cup. "Maybe they just didn't try hard enough."
Nick froze, looking at Michael. "...She's joking, right?"
Michael hid a smirk behind a piece of bread. "Not sure she was joking."
For a heartbeat, the three sat in silence. Nick darted a glance between them, then slapped the table. "Alright, new rule: no stabbing roommates, past or present. Agreed?"
Michael sighed. "You're insane."
Luna, without missing a beat: "Agreed."
Nick grinned like he'd won something.
Michael shook his head. "She's not our roommate, you doofus."
Nick seemed to have eaten a bug, but decided to let it go.
They finished eating, trays clattering into the return chute as they stepped back into the hall. Nick fell into stride beside Michael, stretching like he'd just survived a battle.
"Well, that settles it," Nick declared. "We're a team now: The roommates-plus one, the trio of destiny!"
Michael pinched the bridge of his nose.
Nick smirked. "Admit it, Mikey. She likes us. Why else would the princess of the icy mountain of the forbidden realm sit with two nobodies?"
Before Michael could answer, Luna's voice cut through, not as in control as usual. "YOU... look like a princess of the icy mountain of the forbidden realm."
Michael nearly choked on air. He glanced at Nick, desperate to see how he'd handle it.
Nick stumbled a step, blinking. "...What?"
Luna smoothed her expression, slipping back into her usual cool distance. "I'm going the same way."
Nick's jaw dropped. He grabbed Michael's arm, eyes wide. "Did you hear that, Mikey? She had an emotion! SHE HAD AN EMOTION! It's destiny!"
Michael groaned. "Why am I stuck with you…"
The corridor buzzed with whispers as they filed toward their next class. By the time they reached Monsterology class, Michael could already hear his name being whispered. He and Nick made their way to the end of the class while Luna sat in the front right in the middle.
Michael tried to keep his eyes on the floor, but the whispers reached him anyway.
"He's the one who beat Keegan."
"The princess sat with him in the cafeteria!"
"They say he fought a Goblin Chieftain…"
His face burned, but before he could retreat further into himself, the door creaked open.
A man shuffled in—gaunt, scarred, with a limp that hadn't quite healed. His coat hung loose, a hint of flask at his belt. He dropped his papers on the desk with a thud, then rubbed the bridge of his nose like the whole class was already a headache.
"Settle down, settle down." His voice was gravel and smoke. "Monsterology isn't about bedtime stories. It's about survival. What you understand, you can live through. What you don't understand… kills you. Simple as that."
His eyes swept lazily across the room, and stopped.
"Well, well. Our new addition finally crawls in." A slow grin cracked his face, like he'd spotted a curious beast in the wild. "Michael, yes? The boy who danced with a Goblin Chieftain."
Every head turned. The air buzzed like static. Michael forced himself to nod. "Yes, sir."
Murmurs surged.
"No way that's true."
"Commoner trash."
"He doesn't even look like a fighter."
The professor raised one hand, and the room quieted.
"Impressive," he said at last, "to face such a foe with no training. A Goblin Chieftain can scatter a patrol of soldiers, even endanger a small village." He leaned forward on the lectern, eyes narrowing, grin fading. "But let us remember—on the food chain? A Chieftain is a pebble on the path. Dangerous, yes. Worth respect, yes. But above a human? Only barely."
A few students snickered. One of them whispered "pebble" with a smirk.
Michael's stomach dropped. Pebble? He almost died from it. The ticking drilled at his skull, every strike the same: fraud.
The professor straightened again, voice suddenly sharp. "Ask yourself: what stench drives it mad? Where does it fight best? Can you trip it, slow it? And if you can't…" He bared his yellowed teeth "…then you hit the bastard harder than it hits you."
Silence hung heavy in the hall.
Then Nick leaned over, whispering with a grin, "Look at us, Mikey! The world's best pebble-crushers!"
Michael didn't smile. His knuckles were white against the desk as the ticking echoed on.