Solaris POV
People are not born equal.
As a princess, I should not be thinking this, let alone admitting it. If I said it aloud in a formal address, there would be outrage from regional councils, moral lectures from allied states, and polite condemnation wrapped in diplomatic smiles.
However, precisely because I am a princess, I can say it clearly.
Strip away titles for a moment. Forget royalty, nobility, and peasants.
Even then, inequality remains.
Talent varies. Bodies differ. Some minds grasp things instantly, while others struggle no matter how long they try. Reflexes, beauty, health, discipline. These are not evenly distributed, and no amount of pretending has ever changed that.
I am born above them.
Beautiful. Healthy. Quick to learn. Quick to adapt. My tutors noticed it early.
My instructors did not need to repeat themselves.
Concepts settled into place the first time I touched them.
When I trained, my body responded as if it had been waiting all along.
This is not my arrogance nor narcissism. It is just facts.
I am perfect.
Pefection however, attracts attention and attracts predators.
In a world full of flaws, something unblemished invites hands that want to touch it, smear it, claim it.
They crowd close, smiling too much, speaking too softly. Praise spills from their mouths in excess, dripping with expectation.
They want to claim a fragment of me on what they lack and call it learning.
I despise it.
They cling as if my existence is an invitation. As if I were handed everything without effort.
As if perfection simply happened.
They do not see the hours of effort, the repetition. They do not see the nights spent refining movements until my muscles shook, or the endless scrutiny where a single mistake meant starting over.
They look at my crown and decide the rest must have come easily.
That assumption insults me more than open hatred ever could.
I did not begin as perfect.
I became this through effort, through refusal to settle, through work that would have broken those who now smile and reach for me.
When they try to attach themselves to my success, when they speak as if my position erased my labor, it makes my stomach turn.
They are not drawn to me.
They are drawn to what they think I represent.
I am perfect, and I refuse to let them stain it.
That was why the sight of them caught my attention.
A random nobody and the heir of the Drakemont duke, sitting beside me as if the space were neutral ground. I expected the usual performance. Flattery wrapped in restraint. Careful words meant to hook my interest and pull favors loose.
None came.
They did not speak to me. They did not even look at me.
The audacity of it made my thoughts sharpen.
I am not petty enough to take offense at someone who does not openly revere me.
In fact, I prefer distance. Reverence rots into expectation too easily. Still, this felt different. This nobody sat there as if ignorance were armor, as if pretending not to notice me would somehow make me curious.
Did he truly think I was that shallow?
I reconsidered.
Perhaps I was assuming intent where there was none. Perhaps he simply understood his place and chose silence as manners. Perhaps he approached me to consider them as an available option, nothing more.
Then that changes things.
Heather's voice cut through the air.
"One minute left."
I looked back at the bench.
At the strange boy who had not tried to taint me.
The answer had already settled.
I stood and walked towards them.
"May I join your group?" I asked.
He rose at once and offered his hand.
"Yes," he said. "I look forward to working with you, Princess."
I took it.
______________________________
Matt POV
Bingo.
Just as expected, she took the bait.
I could almost feel the wave of relief coming off the redhead beside me. He did not say anything, yet his shoulders finally loosened.
"As much as I want to do introductions, I think we should report to Sir Heather first. What do you two think?" I asked.
Both of them just nodded.
The three of us headed back toward the rest of the class. As we moved, I felt a sharp stare digging into my back.
Our not-so-friendly resident princess was watching us. Assessing our worth most likely.
That was fine.
Getting her attention alone was already a win. How I was supposed to get even a sip of her blood later was a problem for future me.
Once everyone had gathered, Heather stepped forward.
"Good. Everyone is here."
He scanned the groups once, then spoke again.
"First things first., Miss Rank One, I need you to dismiss your last teammate to even out the playing field."
Her previous teammate turned out to be Maku.
Finster reacted instantly. "Hold on. That makes no sense. He works best with us. You are breaking up a functional team."
Heather turned his gaze on him.
Finster deflated immediately, posture collapsing like a punctured balloon. I had to look away before I laughed.
"Maku will be reassigned to Team Nagi and Cwal," Heather said.
That caught my attention.
What kind of unbalanced monstrosity was that?
In terms of raw capability and skill alone, that team could steamroll half the campus without breaking a sweat.
Heather continued, unfazed.
"The activity is simple. Capture the point."
He gestured toward the track field.
"Each team will be assigned a circular base. That will be your point. Your objective is to protect your own base while capturing others."
He paused, letting it sink in.
"A base is captured by standing within its circle for sixty seconds. Two students reduce the time to thirty seconds. Three reduce it to fifteen. A capture can only occur if no opposing students are standing inside the circle."
Murmurs spread through the class.
"The entire track field is your venue. The numbered circles mark potential bases. Assignments will be given once the activity begins."
He folded his arms.
"How you approach capturing bases is up to you. No intent to permanently injure. No killing. That applies to opponents and teammates alike."
That last part earned a few nervous laughs.
"You earn three points for protecting your original base and one point for each additional base captured."
Heather glanced at the time.
"You have thirty minutes to discuss strategy."
The field erupted almost instantly.
Voices stacked over each other, arguments already starting, people clustering like this was a market.
I turned back to my team and clapped my hands once.
"Alright then. Any plans?"
Kenth opened his mouth like something was about to come out.
"Yes?" I urged him to continue.
His jaw worked around it for a second, then he closed it again and looked away, eyes drifting toward the field as if answers might be written on the grass.
Solaris, on the other hand, met both our gazes head-on.
"Win," she said calmly.
I pinched the bridge of my nose and exhaled.
Right. Of course. I had somehow forgotten that I had assembled the loner dream team.
"Very helpful, Princess," I said sarcastically.
"Still, we need something resembling a plan if we want to function as a group."
Neither of them objected, which I took as permission to keep going.
"Let's start with roles and specialties. I'll go first."
"I'm close to mid-range. Dogfighting, mostly. I rely on erratic bursts of controlled explosions for damage and mobility. Hit, displace, hit again."
I tapped the ring on my finger and murmured.
"Laedingr."
Light spilled out, sharp and bright for half a second before collapsing inward. The glow folded into shape, forming a pair of pitch-black gloves. The surface looked half metallic, half leather. From the wrist ran a compressed armguard, wrapped in coiled chains that clinked softly as they settled.
I flexed my fingers. The chains responded, sliding loose and lifting into the air like cautious snakes.
"And since Sir Heather never restricted looms, this is fair game."
One of the chains snapped forward at my command, then faltered, wobbling before dropping back against the armguard. I gave a small shrug.
"It compensates for my weak thrum construction. I can bind, pull, propel myself, grab targets. Control is still shaky, so I would not lean on it too hard."
The chains twitched again and compressed back into armguard form.
I already knew their capabilities from the novel, but it would be weird not to ask, so I looked between them.
"How about you two?"
Solaris answered first.
She brought out her staff from her storage and rested it against the bench.
Frost crept along its length the moment her fingers wrapped around it, delicate and sharp like etched glass.
"Ice magic," she said. "Long range."
That was it.
Kenth spoke next.
He touched his earring. The glow folded into shape and solidified as a regal handgun.
The metal carried a deep red sheen, layered with faint crimson scales. The barrel flared into the shape of a dragon's open maw, teeth forming the muzzle. Along the top sat a scope shaped like a slit pupil.
"Fire magic," he said quietly. "Mid to long range."
"Even mutes have more expression than these two," I thought.
Thirty minutes suddenly felt very short.
I glanced back at the field, already imagining how fast everything would go wrong, then turned back to them.
"Alright, that settles it. I will be the playmaker for now. You are free to disagree if you see a better move." I proclaimed.