chapter 6: The cil president

  “…The president? The president of your school?” I asked, my brow furrowed. “Why would she want to see me?”

  Cire sighed, rubbiemples as if the weight of the situation ressing down on her. “With everything that’s been happening, someone had to take charge. The teachers were too scared, and the principal… well, he didn’t make it.”

  I swallowed. The reality of the apocalypse was brutal.

  “I see,” I muttered. “And she wants to see me because…?”

  “How should I know?” Cire crossed her arms, giving me a pointed look. “Go ask her yourself. But knowing her, she probably wants to decide what to do with you. She doesn’t like unknown variables.”

  There was an unspoken warning ione.

  “I don’t even know if I want to stay here,” I admitted, voig a thought that had been gnawing at the bay mind.

  Cire raised an eyebrow. “And where would you go?”

  I had no answer for that. She sighed again and waved me off. “Just go already. I have things to do.”

  Cire pointed me toward the ter of the gymnasium, where a rge table had bee up. Five people sat around it, deep in discussion, their serious expressions barely shiftie the stant background noise of the room. Lay was among them.

  I approached cautiously. “Hey, I believe you wao talk to me?”

  A girl sitting at the head of the table turo face me. Her icy blue hair framed a sharp, calg face, and her gaze pinned me in pce like a khrough paper. She exuded fidence, authority—she wasn’t just in charge. She was and itself.

  She studied me for a sed before speaking. “…And you are?”

  ht. I hadn’t introduced myself.

  I let out a nervous chuckle. “Haha, right. I’m a friend of Cire—”

  “The suicide bht. I was waiting for you.”

  I blinked. “…The what now?”

  She ignored my fusion and leaned ba her chair, fingers interlocked. “Lay here refused to say much about you. Said we should ask you ourselves.” She oward the redhead, who gave me a slight, unreadable smile. “My name is Cra. I’m the president of the student cil.”

  She tilted her head slightly, gaze scrutinizing. “So, suicide boy, my first question for you is: do you pn to stay here?”

  I hesitated, then nodded. “I guess so. I don’t really have anywhere else to go, and Cire is here.”

  Cra’s lips quirked upward, though it wasly a friendly smile. “Hmm. Sed question: why should I use our resources to proteeone who isn’t even a student?”

  Dired to the point. I respected that.

  “Because I help you,” I said firmly. “I think my ability would be useful in making this pce stronger.”

  She studied me for a long moment before nodding. “Fine. You have oo prove it. Show results, or we’ll reevaluate your pce here.”

  That was… blunt. But fair.

  She didn’t even ask what my ability was, which surprised me. But then again, maybe she uood that throwing around ability names carelessly wasn’t wise in a world where power determined survival.

  Lay stepped up beside me as Cra turned back to her discussion with the others.

  “She may seem cold, but she’s a capable leader,” Lay murmured.

  I g her. “Yeah. At least she wasn’t wrong about anything.”

  A pause. “What about you? What will you do now?”

  Lay hesitated, her expression flicted.

  “…I don’t know.”

  That admissio heavier than it should have.

  She shifted, her fingers gripping her dress. “I ’t go bay apartment. It’s too dangerous, and I’d be alone. My family is in France, and there’s no way I’m reag them right now.” She exhaled slowly. “So I guess… I’ll stay.”

  Her voice was steady, but there was something uain in her eyes. Was this really the best choice?

  “…If you stay here, what do you want to do?” I asked.

  She bli me, as if the question hadn’t occurred to her. “I… don’t know,” she admitted. “Survive, I guess?”

  I nodded. “The’s figure it out together.”

  I held out my hand.

  For a moment, she just stared at it. Then, slowly, she took it, her grip firm.

  “…Yeah,” she said. “If it’s with you, I’m sure we .”

  ---------

  I approached Cire, watg her work with quiet fasation. Something about her ability drew me in—perhaps because f ons wasn’t so different from what I hoped to do with my own power. Creation, in its purest form.

  She was w on a spear, her movements precise, rhythmic, almost hypnotic. Each strike of the hammer sent a cascade of sparks flying, illuminating her focused expression. She wasn’t just making something—she was crafting, moldial into a on with an artistry that went beyond simple skill.

  I watched, pletely absorbed, as she struck the bde at just the right points, refining its edge. The way she worked… it was almost like she was dang with the metal, coaxing it into shape rather than f it.

  --- Three hours ter ---

  Ting! Ting! Ting!

  Cire exhaled, stepping baire her work. A glimmer of pride flickered across her face. “Whew, this one looks great. I think it’s my best yet.”

  “You really did a great job on this one.”

  “KYAAAAAA!!!”

  The spear cttered to the ground as she whirled around, eyes wide in shock. Her hand clutched her chest as if she’d nearly had a heart attack.

  “You! Elian, how many times have I told you not to sneak up on me like that?!”

  I winced. “Uh… sorry?”

  She let out a long sigh, pig up the on with a grumble. “How long have you been standing there?”

  I scratched the bay head. “That’s a good question… No idea.”

  She shot me a gre, but before she could unto another scolding, I spoke up. “More importantly, you teach me how to bee a bcksmith?”

  Cire paused, tilting her head. “You want to learn? Why? Does it have something to do with your ability?”

  I nodded. “Yup.”

  She studied me for a moment, sidering. “Hmm… I guess I . But some parts of f will be impossible for you since you don’t have my ability.”

  “That doesn’t matter. Let’s focus on what I do.”

  I had oo prove myself. Somehow, I felt this was the key to unlog my potential.

  I grabbed a hammer and positioned myself at the anvil, trying to replicate what I had seen Cire do earlier. I focused, mimig the rhythm, the movement, the force behind each strike.

  Ting. Ting. Ting.

  Not bad. I was only hammering the anvil for now, but I felt… good about it.

  Cire watched, arms crossed. “You… you’ve never fed anything before?”

  “Nope.”

  “And your ability isn’t reted to bcksmithing?”

  “Not directly, at least.”

  She didn’t say anything for a moment. Her expression was unreadable.

  “…Is everything okay?” I asked.

  She exhaled slowly. “Yeah. I think it’s possible. You have a natural talent for this.”

  I blinked. “Seriously?”

  She nodded. “But there’s a problem. Some teiques rely entirely on my ability, like geing the precise heat needed for tempering.”

  I thought about it for a sed before smirking. “That shouldn’t be an issue.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “How so?”

  I lifted my right hand, summoning a small flicker of phoenix fme along my fiips. “If it’s just heat, I manage.”

  Cire’s eyes widened slightly, impressed despite herself. “Huh. You might actually pull this off.”

  I grinned. “Let’s find out.”