Chapter 86: Sometimes You Just Choose

( Sophie Trohan’s POV )

I had always trusted my senses.

They were good before my Awakening.

Afterward, they became considerably better.

I could hear conversations through walls if I focused hard enough, notice small movements in darkness, feel subtle changes in air pressure before storms, and follow footprints that most people would walk directly over without noticing.

Which was why I found the forest personally offensive.

"This tree again."

The boy beside me stopped walking.

"You’re sure?"

"Very."

He looked around at the fog-covered trees surrounding us.

"They all look similar."

I pointed toward the trunk.

A small lightning-shaped mark had been carved into the bark.

"I made that."

He stared at it.

Then sighed.

"Oh."

Thirty-six people groaned almost simultaneously behind us.

I couldn’t blame them.

We had been walking for twenty-three minutes.

According to every reasonable sense of distance, we should have traveled at least two kilometers.

According to the tree in front of me, we had apparently traveled nowhere.

Wonderful.

Fog covered the forest in every direction.

Not ordinary fog either.

That would have been too considerate.

It was thick enough that the trees twenty meters away looked like shadows, yet somehow thin enough that my Perception kept detecting things beyond them.

Footsteps to the east.

Nothing there.

Running water to the north.

Nothing there either.

A narrow road directly ahead.

Gone three minutes later.

I closed my eyes and rubbed my forehead.

"The Hermit is cheating."

Someone behind me laughed.

"Can the person who created the exam cheat?"

"Yes."

"How?"

"By doing this."

That earned a few more laughs.

Good.

At least people were still laughing.

That mattered more than I wanted to admit.

Thirty-six classmates had been dropped into an unknown forest less than half an hour ago, with no equipment, no professors, and an objective telling us to reach some Citadel before dawn.

People were nervous.

Some were hiding it better than others.

One girl near the back had been gripping her own sleeve since we arrived.

Another boy kept turning around every few seconds as if expecting something to appear behind him.

I noticed things like that.

Unfortunately, noticing them made me want to help everyone.

Which was becoming a problem.

"Maybe we should split up," someone suggested.

"No."

The answer left my mouth immediately.

Everyone looked toward me.

I blinked.

That had been fast.

Good.

Probably.

Ten minutes earlier, I would have asked what everyone thought.

Actually, I had.

That had resulted in twelve minutes of arguing about which direction the Citadel might be.

One person thought south.

Three believed east.

Someone insisted we should follow the sun despite the fact that the sun was barely visible.

Another student wanted to climb a tree.

Nobody agreed on anything.

Including whether climbing the tree was useful.

I had eventually listened to all of them.

That had been my mistake.

"Nobody separates," I repeated.

A B-potential boy near the center raised his hand slightly.

"What if we divide into groups but stay connected with ropes?"

I almost said, ’What does everyone think?’

The words reached the edge of my tongue.

I stopped them.

"No."

He frowned.

"But if..."

"If this forest can make thirty-seven people walk in a circle without any of us realizing, I’m not testing whether it can make ropes disappear too."

He considered that.

Then nodded.

"Fair."

Relief crossed the faces of several nearby students.

That surprised me.

I looked around at Class Three.

Thirty-seven students including me.

No SS potential.

Three S.

Fourteen A.

Nineteen B.

Yesterday, several people had been worried about those numbers.

I had heard them.

’Class Three doesn’t even have an SS.’

’Class One and Two are stronger.’

’Why did we get this distribution?’

None of those complaints mattered now.

Fog did not care about Potential.

Neither did getting lost.

A scream came from behind us.

I spun instantly.

Ice formed across my fingers.

Three creatures dropped from the branches.

Long bodies.

Thin limbs.

Far too many legs.

Of course.

"Formation!"

People moved.

Mostly.

Two students panicked and backed directly into one another.

One of our S-potential fighters reacted faster.

Fire erupted from his hands.

The first creature caught fire before it landed.

The second leaped toward the center of the group.

Lightning gathered around my arm.

I released it.

The bolt struck the creature in midair.

It hit the ground smoking.

The smell was terrible.

The third monster vanished into the fog.

"Don’t chase it!"

Too late.

A boy had already taken three steps after it.

He froze at my voice.

Good.

Then the creature attacked from our left.

Fast.

Much faster than I expected.

Someone shouted.

A B-potential student was struck before anyone could reach him.

For half a second, his body blurred.

Then he disappeared.

Eliminated.

Silence followed.

The monster died less than two seconds later beneath three spells.

But I barely noticed.

I stared at the empty place where the student had stood.

One.

We had already lost one person.

He had been walking three meters away from everyone else.

Because we had stretched the formation.

Because different people kept trying to check different directions.

Because I hadn’t wanted to tell anyone no strongly enough.

My stomach tightened.

"Everyone closer."

Nobody argued.

They moved.

Immediately.

I hated how much easier that was.

***

The first hour taught me something I hadn’t expected.

Leadership involved disappointing people.

I disliked that.

A lot.

One student wanted to investigate a stream.

"No."

"But there might be a road..."

"We’re not leaving the group for a maybe."

He looked disappointed.

I felt guilty.

We kept walking.

Someone else wanted to rest.

"Five minutes."

"Can we make it ten?"

"Five."

I felt guilty again.

Three people believed the Citadel was west.

Another group believed north.

I listened to both explanations.

The western argument made sense.

The northern one also made sense.

Wonderful.

Everyone eventually looked toward me.

Waiting.

I hated that.

"North."

One of the students frowned.

"I still think west is better."

"I know."

That seemed to surprise him.

I continued.

"But we’re going north."

He opened his mouth.

Then stopped.

"Alright."

That was it.

No argument.

No anger.

Just acceptance.

I watched everyone start moving again.

Apparently people didn’t always want endless choices.

Sometimes they wanted someone else to make one.

That realization was deeply concerning.

Mostly because I understood why.

If I chose wrong, they could blame me.

Comforting.

For them.

Terrifying for me.

The fog finally began thinning sometime later.

I saw the tower before anyone else did.

A dark structure rising above the trees.

"There."

Everyone followed my finger.

Someone sighed with relief.

"Finally."

I understood the feeling.

We approached carefully.

Because if the last hour had taught me anything, it was that anything convenient deserved suspicion.

Nothing attacked us.

That somehow made me more suspicious.

The tower door opened easily.

Even worse.

Inside, we found stairs.

Tables.

Observation equipment.

And maps.

Actual maps.

For one shameful second, I considered hugging one.

I resisted.

A class leader had standards.

Probably.

We spread the maps across a large table.

One showed the entire region.

Five areas had been marked.

A fortress in the north.

A ruined city toward the west.

An underground temple.

A battlefield infirmary toward the east.

And our forest.

At the center...

The Citadel.

"Wait."

I leaned closer.

Routes connected each region.

A girl beside me pointed toward the markings.

"Those must be the other classes."

"Probably."

Another student frowned.

"Why would they give us all this?"

I looked around the room.

That was a good question.

No weapons.

No food supply.

Nothing immediately valuable.

Maps covered every wall.

Observation lenses pointed toward distant regions.

Signal equipment sat beside the windows.

Information.

"Because this is what we were given."

Everyone looked toward me.

I blinked.

That had sounded surprisingly confident.

A boy frowned.

"What do you mean?"

"The other starting areas probably have different resources."

I pointed toward our forest.

"We have information."

That made sense.

Too much sense.

The Hermit was annoying.

A golden light floated on the upper floor.

We climbed toward it.

A disk hovered above a pedestal.

The moment I approached, words appeared.

---

GUARDIAN SEAL LOCATED

CLASS THREE GUARDIAN SEAL

---

"That looks important," someone said.

"Very observant."

A few people laughed.

I touched the seal.

Golden light surrounded my fingers.

The disk disappeared.

Another message appeared.

---

CLASS THREE GUARDIAN SEAL ACQUIRED

Guardian Seals: 3/5

---

Three.

I stared at the number.

Two classes had already found theirs.

Good.

At least we weren’t behind.

Then another message appeared.

---

THE CITADEL REQUIRES ALL FIVE GUARDIAN SEALS.

ONE SEAL HAS BEEN ASSIGNED TO EACH CLASS.

---

The room became quiet.

Someone cursed softly.

"If another class gets eliminated, we’re done?"

"Probably."

"That’s unfair."

I looked back toward the map.

Five classes.

Five regions.

Five different resources.

"No."

The boy looked toward me.

"It’s deliberate."

"How is that better?"

"It isn’t."

A few people smiled.

I pointed toward the regions.

"The fortress probably has weapons."

Someone nodded.

"Class Two?"

"Most likely."

Then the city.

"Food. Transportation. Maybe civilians or supplies."

The temple was harder.

Mana resources?

Artifacts?

I wasn’t sure.

The battlefield infirmary was obvious.

Medicine.

Healers.

Then us.

Information.

A strange feeling settled over me.

"We aren’t supposed to beat each other."

Someone frowned.

"Isn’t this class competition?"

"Yes."

"Then..."

"Not entirely."

I looked toward the five regions again.

"We need each other."

That was the trick.

We were competing.

But none of us could actually succeed alone.

Annoyingly clever.

"Can the lenses see the other regions?"

That started another round of activity.

We quickly discovered they could.

The magical observation lenses weren’t personal artifacts, so the examination allowed them.

One showed the northern fortress.

Tiny figures were already leaving through the southern gate.

"Class Two?"

"Probably."

Good.

Whoever their leader was, they had decided not to remain inside the fortress.

James.

Of course.

Another lens showed the ruined city.

Too far away to see details clearly.

Then I moved toward the eastern lens.

Smoke.

Lots of it.

My expression changed.

"What?"

Someone noticed.

I adjusted the lens.

A large group of monsters moved through the eastern region.

Not hundreds.

Dozens.

But large ones.

Very large.

And fast.

A girl beside me whispered, "Which class started there?"

We checked the map.

The infirmary.

Class Five.

Alash Vortex.

I returned to the lens.

Tiny figures were leaving the building.

Slowly.

Much too slowly.

Then I understood why.

They weren’t alone.

"Are those... people?"

Someone leaned closer.

They were carrying wounded civilians.

Stretchers.

People supported between students.

More were walking beside them.

A lot more.

Someone behind me frowned.

"Why are they taking them?"

I didn’t answer immediately.

The question wasn’t difficult.

I had seen Alash yesterday.

Silver hair.

Blue eyes.

Pillow.

He hadn’t looked particularly heroic.

Or intimidating.

Mostly sleepy.

But his Title was Aegis Healer.

And there were wounded people.

Of course he was taking them.

"He’s a healer," I said quietly.

The student beside me frowned.

"But they’re illusions."

"Maybe."

"That’s going to slow his entire class."

"Yes."

That part worried me.

Another student looked through the lens.

"The monsters are going to catch them."

My stomach tightened.

"Should we help?"

Everyone looked toward me.

Of course they did.

I stared at the map.

There it was again.

A decision.

Our path toward the Citadel was southwest.

Class Five was east.

Going directly toward them would cost at least forty minutes.

Probably more.

The monster group was already moving quickly.

Could we reach them?

Maybe.

Could we reach them before the monsters?

Probably not.

What if we tried and failed?

Then both classes lost time.

What if I said no?

And watched them get eliminated?

Wonderful.

I hated this exam.

"Can we signal them?"

Several students immediately checked the tower’s communication equipment.

Nothing.

The signal crystals refused to activate.

Of course.

Someone looked toward me.

"What do we do?"

I looked through the lens one last time.

Class Five kept moving.

Slow.

Organized.

Too slow.

"We can’t reach them before the monsters."

Several faces fell.

One student lowered his head.

I understood.

I didn’t like saying it either.

Then I looked back toward the map.

"But we can still help."

Heads lifted.

I pointed toward the route west of the infirmary.

"Here."

A river crossed Class Five’s likely route.

One of the map notes caught my attention.

BRIDGE COLLAPSED

"If they continue toward the Citadel, they’ll reach this river."

An Earth mage leaned closer.

"And?"

"The bridge is destroyed."

His expression changed.

"They won’t know."

"No."

If they reached the crossing with wounded civilians and no bridge, they could lose an hour.

Maybe more.

Unless...

"Our route passes close to it."

The Earth mage understood first.

"We repair it."

I nodded.

"We repair it."

Someone smiled.

"That’s helping."

"It is also preventing another class from failing and taking us with them."

His smile widened.

"Of course."

I looked around.

Thirty-five classmates remained.

Some nervous.

Some tired.

Some still carrying the tension from getting lost in the forest.

All waiting.

Normally, I would have asked.

’Does everyone agree?’

’Any objections?’

’Does anyone have a better idea?’

I didn’t.

"We leave in three minutes."

Someone blinked.

"Three?"

"Three."

No vote.

No debate.

"Earth mages, check what you’ll need to repair the bridge. Anyone with Water, come with them in case the river is worse than the map suggests. Everyone else, take whatever maps and supplies we can carry without slowing down."

People immediately moved.

No argument.

No confusion.

Just movement.

I stood there for a moment.

That felt...

Good.

Strange.

But good.

Maybe leadership wasn’t about having all the answers.

Maybe it wasn’t even about making everyone agree with you.

Sometimes you listened.

Sometimes you changed your mind.

Sometimes someone else had the better idea.

And sometimes, you had enough information.

So you chose.

Even if someone disliked it.

I smiled slightly.

Maybe leadership wasn’t completely terrible.

Then I looked toward the door.

Beyond it, the fog still covered the forest.

My smile disappeared.

Right.

The forest.

Someone passed beside me.

"You alright?"

"Perfect."

"You don’t look perfect."

"We’re going back into the fog."

He considered that.

"Fair."

I grabbed one of the maps.

"Everyone ready?"

A collection of voices answered.

Mostly yes.

Good enough.

We descended from the tower and returned to the forest.

The fog swallowed the path almost immediately.

I stopped at the edge of the trees.

Thirty-five people waited behind me.

My people.

That still felt strange.

But not as strange as before.

I looked toward the direction of the river.

"Stay close."

Everyone moved nearer.

"If you hear something, tell me. If you see something, tell me. If you disagree with the route, tell me."

A few people exchanged glances.

Then I added:

"But once I choose, we move."

Silence.

Then the Earth mage smiled.

"Understood, Leader."

I grimaced slightly.

Still getting used to that.

"Let’s go."

And this time, when the forest offered three different paths five minutes later, I listened to everyone’s observations.

Then chose one.

No vote.

No twelve-minute argument.

Just a decision.

Maybe the Mirage Hermit wasn’t cheating.

I thought about the repeating trees.

No.

He was definitely cheating.