The cafeteria chairs were cold and unforgiving, their metal frames creaking softly as students rested their heads on the tables, drifting into uneasy sleep.
Two students stood guard, eyes wide and vigilant, their gazes sweeping every shadow, every faint creak in the building, as if daring a monster to appear.
The night seemed endless, filled only with whispers of fear, muffled sobs, and the occasional shuffle of restless feet.
Morning arrived.
The dim light of early dawn barely touched the cracked windows, casting long, pale beams across the dusty floor.
The air inside the cafeteria buzzed with quiet unrest, thick and heavy, as though the walls themselves held their breath.
Julian and Clara—mostly Julian—quietly began their manipulation.
With subtle words, calculated tones, and half-spoken suggestions, they planted seeds of doubt among the weakest in their group—Evan and Maya.
Whispers began to spread like poison through the thin walls of fragile trust.
"Did you notice how Lucian keeps disappearing during ration distributions?" one student murmured, eyes darting as if afraid of being overheard.
"I heard he's been hiding extra food… for himself and Marcus," another added, voice tinged with suspicion and fear.
Each whisper followed the last, growing louder, feeding paranoia, spreading like wildfire through every corner of the cafeteria.
Some students' faces twisted in doubt, others exchanged nervous glances, their trust unraveling.
Lucian noticed the heavy commotion.
His golden eyes narrowed, brows furrowing slightly, betraying a flicker of suspicion.
He tried to suppress the tension.
"Enough," Lucian's voice cut through the mounting noise, smooth but firm.
"These rumors are nothing but fake pain and simple lies. They are distractions you should avoid."
Still, the murmurs refused to die.
They slithered around the room, turning into accusations, demands, resentments.
The atmosphere thickened further, becoming suffocating—a battleground of hidden fear and thinly veiled hostility.
Clara, Julian, and their two team members prepared to leave.
The mission was clear: scout the right-wing section of the building for useful information.
Their footsteps were quiet, measured, controlled—each step a calculated move in a game neither of them fully understood.
Until they came face-to-face with something unexpected—a massive grizzly bear, standing in the middle of the narrow corridor.
Two of their teammates froze in fear, eyes wide, bodies rigid.
But Clara and I stood calm, our gazes locked onto the beast without hesitation.
Clara's hand rose slowly, her fingertips glowing faintly.
An icicle shot from her palm, piercing the bear's shoulder with a sharp crack.
The beast roared, stumbling, but its aggression remained untamed.
I watched in awe, the air thick with the scent of magic.
Man, I wanna throw some ice too, I thought, but I recovered quickly.
I lunged forward, plunging my dagger deep into its leg.
The bear swiped at me, claws missing by inches as I relied on my enhanced Time Instinct—seeing a possibility in death by that attack.
With each step, my senses sharpened.
A deep wound appeared along the beast's flank as I slashed through with unyielding precision.
Clara seized the moment, freezing the bear's eye solid, turning it into a glimmering prism.
I didn't hesitate.
My blade drove deep into its chest, right into the heart.
The bear collapsed with a final, prideful but labored groan.
"We make a good team, don't we, Miss Ice?" I teased lightly, a half-smile playing on my lips.
"...Yeah," she replied, flat and emotionless, before turning and disappearing deeper into the corridor.
The other two teammates stood up, faces flushed with shame, now determined not to be dead weight again.
We continued our scouting mission, collecting scraps of useful data—maps, old notes, a few crumbled documents—before returning to the cafeteria.
Chaos greeted us.
Two opposing groups now openly blamed each other.
Lucian, calm but visibly strained, tried to pacify the crowd.
"Everyone, listen carefully!" His tone carried the precision of a practiced speaker, yet underlying desperation.
"We don't survive by blaming one another. Unity is our only chance. Stay focused on the objective."
Marcus sighed, arms crossed, his eyes tired from exhaustion.
Emily Carter's face was flushed red with anger, randomly shouting at the opposing group with irritation bordering on hysteria.
Olivia Hale's eyes, however, remained locked on me.
She offered a small, knowing smile—before turning back toward the commotion.
Did she figure it out? I thought.
Not with fear, but with the fed-up tone of someone resigned to the game.
I glanced toward Clara.
She seemed to be thinking the exact same thing.
---
In the end, supplies were divided.
Each student received an equal portion of canned food and a small bottle of water.
This caused yet another uproar.
"Why so little?" someone shouted.
"Unfair!" another screamed.
Lucian stepped in, his voice cold and serious.
"We're not here to play games," he said steadily.
"Survival is not about luxury or fairness.
It's about discipline, strategy, and sacrifice.
Grow complacent, and you'll be dead within hours.
Remember that."
The students' faces fell.
The bitter truth settled over them like a thick, suffocating fog.
I thought quietly.
'Tck. I guess he's more capable of handling this than he looks.'
But I wasn't going to give up.
I murmured softly, almost to myself.
"Save this moment as a savepoint."
[Savepoint saved]
A small confirmation blinked in my vision.
"Don't worry, Lucian," I thought coldly, a smirk rising across my lips.
"This is just the beginning."