A meaty hand clapped down on John’s shoulder, almost causing him to sink to his knees. John looked up at its owner. It was one of the teachers, a big and burly man with a neat beard covering half his face. There was a strained smile on his face.

“Why don’t you go back to the tent, sonny? It’s not safe out here,” he said, his massive paws gently pushing John back into the tent.

John strained against the pressure, but it proved useless in front of that unstoppable force. “Sir,” he said whilst taking a few steps back, “what is going on? Why are the clouds like that?”

“That’s not something for you to worry about. Go back inside and let the adults handle it,” the man replied, this time less friendly.

John winced. “Sir, I-“

“This is not the time for backtalk, boy,” the older man snapped. He picked John up by the breastplate and carried him inside. No matter what John said, it was useless. The teacher wouldn’t listen and simply closed the tent flaps. John made for the tent flaps, only to discover that they had been sewn shut.

John sighed, putting a hand against the hard fabric. It was no use. He’d even tried to explain the matter with the marble, but the teacher wouldn’t believe him. It wasn’t like he could actually summon the marble after all, not that it would comply even if he could.

His guts churned with impotent fury and fear, but there was nothing he could do.

The sound of armour rustling finally caused John to turn his head back. He noted that the commotion had caused a few of his comrades to stir in their sleep, some probably having woken up but then gone to sleep again.

He was too busy to feel apologetic, though. There had to be a way out. But he couldn’t run away. That would be stupid. He was alone, surrounded by enemies and with an unfathomably powerful foe on the way.

What did he have? He had himself and his comrades, though he felt that they hardly mattered in the bigger scheme of things. Then, there were the six teachers accompanying them. They were obviously extremely powerful, but his intuition told him that they were far from powerful enough. They wouldn't have been so tense if they were.

Was there anything he could do that they could not?

… Nothing?

At least nothing that could help him at the moment. John dearly regretted not indulging his passing interest in obsolete weaponry more. Perhaps then he could have manufactured bombs, or anything else that could have helped him at this juncture.

Really, guns were the only things he had more than the slightest idea about, but they were useless due to his incapability to manufacture them. Though John also had rudimentary knowledge of primitive chemical weapons, he wouldn’t even consider bringing those into this world, especially not when the risk of friendly fire existed. Or warriors that could, perhaps, find a way to reverse-engineer them.

Nope, he was definitely not going to be the one credited with bringing chemical warfare and rightfully banned weaponry into this world.

The only thing that meaningfully set him apart from his peers, then, was the existence of the marble. Unfortunately, it was busy freaking out and spewing incoherent sounds that vaguely resembled bits and pieces of language.

Thunder rumbled again, this time far closer than before. John frowned as he looked up at the vaguely brown ceiling of the tent. Was it coming already?

Just then, Greg burst through the tent flap. The old man’s robe was marred with a multitude of bloodstains, prompting John to look closer when Greg snapped his fingers. A cold wall of water blasted John's face back, somehow avoiding any of his orifices but still soaking him.

The entire tent rose in a chorus of shocked screams, only to be silenced by a deafening clap by Greg.

The commotion quickly died down when they realised who it was that had awoken them. Greg’s stare quickly made even the noisiest yappers shut up. “We have no time for this, children. Your resting time is over. Get ready, we will leave shortly,” the old man said.

John was fairly sure that they still had some time until the time they had been given would run out. Who was he to complain about moving away from the source of his feeling of invariable doom, though?

Having gone so far as having slept in their armour, the children didn’t have much to prepare. As such, they quickly rose and checked each other’s armours. With Greg's intimidating presence hovering at the entrance, the children didn't bother with anything but the bare necessities.

Greg motioned for them to walk out once he made sure they were done, waiting at the tent flap and personally inspecting every child that walked past him. A few children ahead of John were snatched aside, their armours adjusted fixed with firm hands before being pushed out to join their comrades once again.

The air was thick with tension when John emerged from the tent. The sky was still a roiling mess of inky blots, now interspersed with the occasional lightning bolt. He could see all six teachers assembled around them, their faces not betraying the slightest hint of emotions as they watched them assemble into a marching formation and set off at a brisk pace.

The mood didn’t allow any questions, leaving everyone somewhat clueless as to what was going on. Though no rain fell, their formation was nevertheless interrupted with every rumbling of thunder that washed over them.

‘I never realised that so many are afraid of thunder,’ John thought as he watched Lydia’s and a few other heads he couldn’t identify immediately flinch. 'Well, it's not like that fear is an unjustified one,' his thoughts continued as he watched a distant lightning bolt turn a tree into charred splinters.

The small amusement he felt was overshadowed, however, by the fact that he couldn’t wrap his head around what his teachers were doing. There was no way they could outmarch a storm, even if they started sprinting as fast as they could.

His link to the marble suddenly opened. John's eyes opened wide, a hundred thoughts stewing in his head. The marble was faster than him, however.

“JOHN!”, it screamed in his mind.

This time, John was the one who stumbled. A few helping hands prevented anything more unfortunate, supporting and shoving him until he got into the rhythm again.

‘I expect answers,’ he grumbled when he didn’t have to divert most of his attention to simply keeping up anymore.

“Look, this is no time to act like a drama queen. We’re in deep shit, friend. I don’t know how this happened, but it seems like we have caught the attention of something we shouldn’t have. You and I, we’re going to be fucked if we don't lay low for a while, alright?"

The marble started drifting off in curses before John could reply. “I don’t have a lot of attention to spare right now, so do me a favour and try not to stand out. We should be fine…”

“Unless the planet itself or some other bullshit tries to interfere. I have reason to believe one of the greater entities living here is causing this commotion. Stick with your group and we have a chance of getting out here without being reduced to charred powder, alright?” John felt the connection close again as soon as it said its part.

‘Hey, HEY? What the hell?’ John tried contacting it but was ignored every time. 'You little shit! Dropping a bomb like this on me and then running off? We'll see if you won't regret this!'

John raged on for a while, hurling the most colourful curses his mind could come up with at the mental barrier separating them.

The first of many raindrops bounced off John’s helmet just as he got tired from raging internally. He looked up, looking past the tired faces of his marching comrades.

Belatedly, he realised that not a single teacher had been sent out to fight the beasts. Instead, they kept a hexagon around their charges, vigilantly watching their surroundings.

Now that he thought about it, he hadn't heard any beasts recently, either. The stench of blood was still heavy in the air, though.

The relief over their pursuers' withdrawal John felt, however, was vastly overshadowed by the fact that whatever was coming was scarier than death to those suicidal beasts.

Suddenly, the dread sapping strength from his limbs intensified with a painful clench. John’s step hitched. He stumbled forward, the helmet banging on the pauldron of the child in front of him with a metallic clang.

John fought back against the nausea. Some hands were holding him steady, but otherwise not moving. Looking up when the worst had passed, John noticed that their formation had halted as a whole. All of them were staring up at the sky, where winds and rain intermingled and became a terrifying vortex. It was...descending towards them. John's ears were filled with the sounds of intensifying winds and pattering raindrops.

"Heavenly Seas above..." he heard someone say.

John tore his eyes away from the skies and looked at the teachers, whose expressions had turned into frowns. They were huddling and whispering something at each other whilst throwing the occasional glance upwards. Unfortunately, John was too far away to hear what they were saying.

However, that didn't mean things had to stay that way. John scanned the small pond of heads for familiar faces and quickly found Ronnie, who had craned his neck back to see as much as possible. John pushed his way through the crowd until he reached the young man with nary a grumble or venomous stare. He rapped the other boy's helmet twice, which was enough to break him out of his stupor.

"John? I...no, never mind. Do you know what is going on?", Ronnie said. John almost couldn't hear him through the other sounds pelting his eardrums.

"I don't know. How about we get the others and ask the teachers? They'll probably tell us if there are enough people asking."

Ronnie thought for a moment and then nodded. They then split off to convince the rest of their classmates.

It didn't take long to rally the children into a coherent mass that interrupted the teachers' impromptu meeting.

"It is only fair that you know what is happening," Greg said with just a hint of exasperation. The old man had been chosen as the person to inform them after another short session of hushed whispers. If the faint frown on his face was any indication, he wasn't all too happy about that. "The Heavenly Seas have seen fit to send a messenger. I do not presume to know what they want, but know that it probably has nothing to do with us. What we are going to do is barricade ourselves underground and wait for the storm to pass. Your job will be to watch our surroundings whilst we do so."

The old man made sure that they had all understood him and then made them form a wide circle around the teachers. They were scattered all across the trees and bushes. John had been forced to climb a tree, whilst Ronnie was shoved under a bush. From his vantage point, John could see Jessica's fiery hair stand out against the greenery as she laid in a groove between two massive roots. Ronnie was not too far away either, the boy having been positioned in a particularly thick patch of vegetation. He couldn't spy Lydia from his vantage point, but vaguely remembered her walking towards a section of high grass.

John shook his head. They would be fine. This wasn't the time to suddenly start caring for his fellow classmates.

Instead, he focused on the forest. Sweeping the hair clinging to his face back, John watched out for any suspicious shapes moving around.

The moon stood out brightly among the carpet of stars, illuminating the forest in an ever-changing dance of light and shadow. His breath hitched when he spied upon thousands of critters and animals wildly running into and through the dark sea of branches and leaves. They were, fortunately, keeping a healthy distance from their position. It seemed like these beasts weren't quite as suicidal as their dead cousins, having chosen to avoid their position even if it meant taking a massive detour.

The sound of explosions distracted John from his musings. His head almost whipped back, but he restrained his instincts. The teachers had already informed that their construction wouldn't have to be quite as silent or subtle anymore. Still, it sounded like a miniature war was being carried out behind him. The only sound that was missing were the screams of the dead and the smell of-

Breathe, John breathed in and out. He was even more scatterbrained than normal. It would have been fine on most other days, but he couldn't afford that right now.

The rest of their short stint as guards passed quickly, and soon John carefully stepped over upturned dirt and splintered pieces of trees. They were ushered towards what could only be called the entrance to an underground bunker, descending to their new shelter through an incredibly ornate ladder that John suspected had been lying around in one of the teacher's cores. The inside only strengthened that impression, with the hallway being a perfectly circular tunnel lined with a dull metal. A number of fluorescent stones were embedded in them, providing adequate lighting for their group.

After the last of them had entered, Franziska conjured a hatch and closed the entrance off with a bang. The moment she did so, the walls lit up with a green flowing script that ran across its length. A faint breeze started flowing through the tunnels, solving the problem of air circulation before John could even think of it.

John wasn't given any time to marvel at the most overtly supernatural phenomenon he'd witnessed so far, however. They descended further under their teachers' lead, their footsteps and breaths the only things echoing in the narrow tunnels.

Fortunately, John had no particular problem with tight spaces. He glanced at his classmates, finding them mostly calm as well.

They quickly reached the end of the tunnel, entering a cavern supported by imposing grey pillars. Unlike their previous passage, however, this place was crawling with the green script. John could spy it everywhere he looked, its green glow hard to miss as it rushed to and fro in the dim lighting. When they passed some of the larger sections, he felt like it vaguely resembled Frumentian in the way it looked, but dismissed the budding suspicion just as quickly. If the common writing system had some sort of innate magical power, they definitely wouldn't be teaching children how to read and write.

It's not like a bunch of superpowered children with the ability to essentially create anything they wanted wasn't dangerous enough already.

They reached the centre of the cavern without any other surprises. A cleared-out space of grey stone, there was nothing remarkable to it. No script, no glowing stones except on the curved ceiling. It was only mildly disappointing. John would have loved the chance to study those words further.

After settling down, Franziska and the other two junior teachers separated their students from the big mass they had at some point flowed into. They gave each other enough space to be almost out of earshot of each other and sat them down for impromptu lessons. It was most likely to return them a sense of normalcy after many hours of flight, and John had to admit that it was undeniably effective.

The three elder teachers had vanished at some point. It was hardly unusual, considering their circumstances, but it still sent a small ripple through the children once they realised their absence.

Franziska was doing her best to keep their attention focused on her, but it was an exercise in futility. The children were naturally still respectful - none of them were stupid enough not to be - but everyone could tell that their attention was elsewhere.

Case in point, John was more occupied by analysing the situation than actually listening to her words. Not that he would have minded that, either. Anything was better than stewing with his thoughts.

"...which means that you should absolutely avoid ever-" Franziska froze when a droplet of water landed on her nose.

The entire room stared upwards in synch, looking towards the source of the turbulence. John squinted and averted his eyes once he realised that the glowing stones were too bright to make out the leak's exact position. Instead, he focused on Franziska, who was now placing a bowl right below where her nose used to be.

She silently watched the droplets shattering against its metallic surface. Perhaps sensing John's gaze, she looked up and looked at him with a reassuring smile. John smiled back, hoping that his unease wasn't too obvious.

If she noticed, she didn't let it show. The tall woman stood up, drawing her charges' attention again. "Okay children, that's enough. Let's focus on the lesson again, shall we?"

John and his classmates chorused a "Yes Ma'am." and gathered around her.

Both the bowl and the steady stream of droplets running down from the ceiling had disappeared by the time John thought about them again.

Franziska had just restarted her lesson when Greg and the other two senior teachers burst into the scene. The two men and one woman were soaked from head to toe, leaving a wet trail behind as they strode over.

"Children," the old man said in between heavy breaths, "it is time for an impromptu lesson in spiritual worship. Follow me up, you are all needed." Having said his piece, the old man turned on his heel and motioned them to follow him.

John looked at Ronnie, who shrugged at him. Wondering just how many times they've been interrupted like this so far, he joined the orderly stream of children on their way back up.

"Hey Ronnie," John whispered once they came close. The boy had been somewhat off for quite a while now. "Why are we not using water-repelling clothes? Even I can make clothes that at least won't get soaked every time it rains."

The other boy took a few seconds to respond. His face scrunched up in concentration as they waited for the others to climb up the stairs. "I think it has something to do with respect? I once heard that it is respectful to reject the gift of rain from the Endless Seas above. Never thought it would be literal, though."

'Oh, wonderful,' John thought, it seemed like spirit etiquette was a thing. That, combined with the fact that the teachers were too relaxed for them to immediately launch into a battle. That probably meant that whatever was coming could be reasoned with. The marble had probably meant this when it had told him to stay low-key.

There was a brief stint of chaos when Greg opened the hatch. Lydia and two other girls who were at the forefront were immediately blasted by torrential rain. They bore it with barely a quiet shiver before climbing up the ladder.

John smiled when he could feel the feeling of inexorable doom lessen when he climbed up. If everything went well, they could probably get out of this without any further incident.

He ignored the marble cursing like a madman in the backdrop of his head.