'Will I ever be able to change anything?'
The thought echoed in the suffocating quiet of the small tent.
He felt a familiar tightness in his chest, the same feeling he'd had watching the kingdom fall. 'Why can't I make them listen? Why can't I make a single good decision?'
He threw himself down on his sleeping bag, the rough fabric scratching against his cheek. And for the first time since he came back, he cried.
'Useless,' he thought, his face buried in the sleeping bag. 'I couldn't even manage a handful of students. How could I ever hope to control people, to protect a whole kingdom?' The faces of his siblings flashed in his mind—Alaric's stern disappointment, Isolde's pitying smile. 'I... I learned nothing in those three years of war. Nothing but how to watch people die.'
He sat up, his eyes red and stinging. He saw the red emergency firework lying with his gear. A quick, easy way out. His hand reached for it, his fingers closing around the smooth cylinder. He could end this now. Fail the test. Go home. See his family.
His hand trembled as he held it. He could just pull the string. It would all be over.
But then another image forced its way into his mind. The beautiful, hateful smile of Superbia, the Sin of Pride, sitting on his family's shattered throne. The memory was so clear, so real, it felt like a brand on his soul. The desire to see that smile wiped off that face, to see that monster dead at his feet... it was a fire that burned hotter than his despair.
He still wanted to be stronger. He still wanted to protect his kingdom. He still wanted revenge.
Slowly, he put the firework down. He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand.
He got out of the tent and walked into the woods. He needed to find wood for a fire. He needed to do something.
---
Orion, David, and Thomas arrived back at the new camp, carrying the tents and supplies from Marcus's old spot. The place was already buzzing with activity. He saw Marcus giving orders, and Romana and Lucinda working together to butcher the beast meat. But he didn't see Ivan.
He looked at Marcus, who was busy directing people, but he didn't dare to ask him. Instead, he walked straight to Romana, who was washing her hands in the river.
"Hey," he said, his voice low and uncertain. "Where's Ivan?"
Romana looked up from the water, her expression unreadable. "Ivan left the camp."
Orion was confused. He thought maybe Ivan had gone to scout. "Is he going to take long?"
"No, Orion," she said, her voice flat. "Ivan is camping somewhere else now. He left the camp."
"Huh? What?" Orion's eyes went wide. The news hit him harder than he expected. "Why? What happened?"
"Marcus and Ivan had an argument," Romana explained simply. "Ivan decided he wanted to go camp alone."
"What happened exactly?" Orion pressed, needing to understand.
Lucinda, who had been standing nearby, spoke up. Her tone was sharp, clearly placing the blame. "Marcus ordered Ivan to work, like the rest of us. Ivan didn't like being ordered around. He decided to leave. And now Marcus says he's not welcome back here."
Romana looked at Orion's conflicted face. "If you're planning to go after him, you probably won't even find him. It's a forest ."
"No," Orion said, shaking his head, his voice hardening a little. "I'm staying here. He's the one who decided to go. I'm not going to run after him."
Lucinda raised an eyebrow, a smile on her lips. "Wow," she said. "Cold."
"Not at all," Orion shot back, feeling a need to defend himself. "He's my friend. But I won't tolerate his tantrums. He had no reason to leave this camp. It's safer here. We are all working together."
Just then, Marcus's voice boomed across the clearing. "Hey, Orion! Stop chatting and help Thomas and David fish! The more food, the better!"
Orion nodded and walked toward the river, leaving the conversation, and his friend, behind.
---
Ivan found a good pile of dry wood. He carried it back to his small, lonely camp. He sat down on the ground and took out his knife. He picked up a solid, thick branch and started sharpening the end, carving it into a crude spear. He needed a weapon. A real one. Not the flimsy stick he had before.
He worked in silence, the only sound the rhythmic scrape, scrape, scrape of his knife against the wood. The repetitive motion was calming. It let him think.
Then he heard it.
A rustle in the tall grass. Then another. Fast footsteps. Getting closer.
He stood up quickly, grabbing his half-finished spear. He scanned the trees around his small clearing. His heart started to beat faster.
The footsteps came running straight toward him.
A figure burst out of the bushes. It was a student from the academy. His name was Leonardo. In his hand, he held a heavy-looking branch.
He saw Ivan. Then his eyes locked onto the pile of berries next to Ivan's tent.
Leonardo didn't hesitate. He let out a yell and swung his club at Ivan. Ivan reacted just in time, blocking the blow with his own spear. The impact was heavy, jarring his arm all the way to his shoulder.
"Give me your food, Ivan," Leonardo said, his voice raspy and desperate.
Ivan smirk. It was a mask he put on to hide the fact that his heart was pounding. "You guys have a real talent for pissing me off, huh?" he said sarcastically. "Can't even let me be sad in peace."
"Shut up and give me your food, fucker!" Leonardo yelled, swinging again, this time with more force.
"Oh, look who's hungry," Ivan taunted . "If you want it, you have to beg me for it."
The smirk never left his face. He jumped back, creating distance. He made sure to keep his body between Leonardo and his tent. His supplies were in there. His survival was in there.
He got into a fighting stance, his new spear held tight in his hands. He could feel it. That familiar, painful throb starting in his left eye. The power was there, ready to be used. The world was waiting to turn red.
'No,' he thought, 'Not this time.'
'Alright. Leonardo isn't weak, but he's desperate. He's sloppy. I have to beat him without using the [Foresight of Failure]. If I can't even do this... if I can't win a simple fight on my own... then I'm not worthy of being here anyway. I might as well use the firework.'
His inner thoughts were cut short by a big, wild swing from Leonardo, aimed right at his face.