[At Breakfast]

Emma sat at the long dining table with her chin propped lazily on her palm, eyes half-lidded and unfocused as if the world before her was slightly out of sync. Sleep clung to her like a stubborn veil, refusing to lift no matter how much she blinked or stretched her shoulders.

Her biological clock had already been thrown into disarray. Long hours of travel had done their damage, and the early morning routine that followed had only worsened things. The workout had drained what little energy she had managed to scrape together, and the cold bath that came after it had shocked her body awake without truly waking her mind.

All she wanted now was to crawl back into bed, wrap herself in warmth, and sleep for several more hours without interruption.

But the rules were merciless.

If breakfast was not finished by eight, there would be no food until late afternoon.

So she was here.

Sleep-deprived. Appetite absent. Munching on bread that tasted like nothing.

She chewed slowly, mechanically, as though the act itself was a chore rather than nourishment. The dining hall was quiet in a strange way, not silent, but subdued. Conversations existed in pockets, murmurs drifting through the air, but none of it reached her properly.

"Hey," William said gently, his voice cutting through the haze. "Are you okay?"

Emma turned her head toward him with a fraction of a delay, her silver hair shifting over her shoulder. She nodded once, though even that small movement made her temples throb.

"Yes," she replied, her voice a little hoarse. "Just slightly foggy." She paused, then added honestly, "I am not very fond of traveling for long hours. And following that, the early morning alarm just hit the wrong mark in my head."

She lifted a hand and rubbed the front of her forehead. It felt heavy, like something was pressing from the inside. The lack of sugar in the food was not helping either. Her body felt sluggish, her thoughts dull, as though they were trudging through thick mud.

William watched her closely, concern evident in his eyes. After a moment, he raised his hand.

"Look here," he said.

Emma frowned faintly, confused, but leaned forward slightly. Before she could ask what he meant, she felt his index finger press gently against the center of her forehead.

*Tink.*

The sensation was subtle yet sharp. Something like a spark ran through her mind, clean and precise. Her spine straightened instantly, breath catching for a fraction of a second.

The fog vanished.

The heaviness disappeared as if it had never existed. The sluggishness that weighed down her limbs dissolved, replaced by a crisp clarity that snapped her fully awake. It felt as though she had just drunk a cup of strong tea after a full night of uninterrupted sleep.

Emma blinked once. Then twice.

She inhaled deeply and exhaled, astonished.

"Did that help?" William asked, his tone casual but his eyes searching her face for any sign of discomfort.

She nodded immediately. "Yes. Surely, it did." She rolled her shoulders, testing her body, then rubbed the spot on her forehead where his finger had touched. "I do not feel lethargic anymore."

Her gaze sharpened as curiosity replaced fatigue. "What was it? And why did you not use it on me earlier?"

The morning run flashed through her mind in fragments. Burning lungs, heavy legs, the dull pounding in her skull. She could barely remember what happened during the run itself, or even the moments that followed.

William exhaled softly and leaned back in his chair.

"I just sent a warning signal through your brain," he explained, "alerting it that something is trying to break your mental defenses." He paused, choosing his words carefully. "Consider it an anti-drug. Something that awakens your immunity to prepare for poison."

Emma hummed thoughtfully. "That is not something I knew you could do."

William nodded once. "It is not a very good skill to use on people," he said calmly. "Your mind never demands something without reason. If it is asking for rest, then your body is under stress."

She understood immediately. While it sounded a little dangerous, perhaps even reckless, she could not deny that she had needed it. Especially with whatever kind of training awaited them.

Around them, the other students were either busy eating or chatting among themselves. Laughter erupted from one corner of the hall, while animated discussion filled another.

Despite that, the vast cafeteria felt oddly empty.

Too big. Too quiet.

Given to so few people, it made them seem like outcasts occupying a space never meant for them.

"Have you noticed it?" Emma asked suddenly, her voice clear now. She leaned back slightly, eyes scanning the room. "Someone is always watching us. Except for when we are in the forms."

William nodded without hesitation. "Nothing unexpected. They are likely deciding how to make use of us after the training ends."

Emma rested her elbows on the table and intertwined her fingers. "If by any chance they send you or me to the frontlines," she said slowly, "what should we do?"

William paused mid-chew.

The word lingered in his mind.

Frontlines.

He had heard stories. Tales whispered in hushed tones and told with haunted eyes. Places where fear never slept, where anxiety gnawed at a soldier's sanity day and night. Where falling asleep meant praying you would not be murdered before waking, whether by an enemy or by someone meant to be an ally.

His father had been a soldier once, long before he became a noble.

Because of that, William understood far better than Emma what it meant to stand there, where death was not a possibility but an expectation.

"I am not ready," William said finally. His voice was steady, but honest. "I know it sounds cowardly, but I am not prepared to take that role yet."

Emma did not hesitate.

"Who said anything about being a coward, Will?" she replied at once. "The same goes for me. If they assign me to the first line, I am using my connection to the Tower to get myself away from the Great Hall."

There was no doubt in her tone. This was not something she was making up on the spot. She had already thought it through.

She reached across the table and took his hand, holding it warmly.

"It is not wrong to feel this way," Emma said softly. "Our dream was never to save the world. It was to build a peaceful life for ourselves. Not the world. It is okay to be afraid. It is okay to be selfish. I am not prepared too."

William squeezed her hand gently.

"For that dream though," he said quietly, "I am ready to fight anything that comes in my way." He lifted her hand and kissed her fingers, his gaze unwavering. "For us, I promise I would never back out."

Emma smiled, a soft and genuine expression that reached her eyes. For both of them, everything else came second.

…..

An hour of rest was granted afterward. The students used the time to freshen up and change into the clothes provided by the Great Hall.

The outfit was a single piece, dark grey and body-fitting. It was neither too tight nor too loose, hugging their frames precisely while allowing free movement. Practical. Efficient.

They were instructed to bring their weapons or whatever tools they commonly used for combat exercises.

William stood in his room for a moment, staring at the blade resting nearby.

He was not good with it. Not yet.

His basics were shaky, his movements hesitant. But if he avoided it now, he would never overcome that hesitation. He took the blade with him.

In the central compound, all twelve students had gathered. Their uniforms were identical, their presence evenly spaced.

Guinevere stood before them.

Her posture was rigid, her expression unreadable as she surveyed each student in silence. The air felt heavier under her gaze.

"Today," she called out at last, "we are going to distribute you into teams."

She rested her hands on her waist. "On the battlefield, there is no guarantee you will be supported by familiar faces. The teams I form will not be based on preference. I will judge you and place you where you complement each other best."

Her eyes hardened.

"Do your best during the assessment," she continued. "Otherwise, you will regret it later."

After a brief pause, she turned toward the path ahead.

"If you understand," Guinevere said, "start walking to the bridge. Your test will be held on Island Beta."

Without another word, the students began to move.

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