Chapter 7 : Indescribable Emptiness

As they entered, Lucius surveyed for an unallocated area. With the hopes of enjoying a calm dinner, he quickly came to realise the futility of such yearnings, as the mere event of his arrival brought yet another mob of students, who pestered him to answer their questions.

Listening to their words, Lucius could only smile and wave.

One of them yelled, “How good are you at fighting?”

“Why don’t you wait and see for yourself?” Lucius retorted, the prospect of seeing him in action only further exciting the audience. Even if he would have preferred the absence of these third-rate reporters, he did admit to the gratification it granted to his ego. Perhaps, it was because of the same self-importance, though, that he failed to consider that not everyone held him in such an amicable light. Namely, a specific individual known as Tommy, who seated only a couple of tables away, had been listening to what was transpiring with quite the malicious intent.

Maybe, why, don’t wait.

Obsessed, the words of Lucius repeated themselves over and over again in his head. Creating an echo chamber small in size, what would normally serve as a constructional drawback, only lent itself to the increased potency of the recurrent words.

And if there’s one thing apparent about those structures is that, without foreign entities to question or impose their own opinion on it and break its foundation, that it would never end. Now keep in mind that Tommy himself was not without his goons or followers, capable of speech and some degree of common sense; they were technically capable of helping his condition.

However, one thing was clear, all of whom were mentioned shared the common sentiment of his ‘supreme’ intelligence and ability.

When one is dull-witted and acting out of turn, their ignorance is remedied by the consensus of the people around them, but pray tell, what happens when such a consensus does not exist?

When the deterioration of logic is left to fester?

Tommy’s fingernails dug into the palm of his hand. Each syllable of the few words that he held repeated itself in his mind served only as mere stepping stones to madness. Eventually, the force in his fingers drew blood. Quickly uncurling it back into an open palm as he prepared to confront the new student.

“Hand me a paper towel,” he called out. Without even the need to look to his loyal followers, several of them quickly sprung forward, their master’s demand in their hands. Taking a paper towel from one of them, he began to wipe the blood off his hand. Appearance was everything, and he would not be spotted bleeding lest he is perceived as weak.

True to his indifference and confidence, he spared not a single glance of respect to the one who had done him a favour.

“P-perhaps you should go see the nurse?” one of his more feminine followers meekly suggested. Upon flashing her a lookout of the corner of his blue eye, the young girl quickly turned away, hiding her face from his view.

That’s right, Tommy thought. Remember your place. Infatuated with his power over others, a sinister sense of pride was now at the forefront of his mind. With the passing of a few seconds, Tommy tossed away the paper, as the same black phlegm that he had coughed, now mended what wound there was, much to the surprise of the girl who had a full view of his hand.

Thus, without much ado, he would begin his plan. Getting up, Tommy approached Lucius alone, ordering the others to linger with a swift movement of his hand. This upcoming battle was one had to undertake in solitude.

His footsteps were loud and resonant. It attracted attention as the crowd made way for his entrance, intimidated. Lucius turned to see what it was, only to be met with an individual he had seen prior in his classroom, the two now staring eye to eye.

“You must be…. Lucius, correct?”

“Indeed.”

There was a pause as the air in the cafeteria grew thick with tense anticipation. Each person in the room, having taken notice of this event, were now waiting to witness its inevitable conclusion. So far, things were going well, but it would have taken only a brief moment, a single mishap, for it to dissolve into premeditated chaos.

Tommy was unpredictable, but Lucius was a foreign entity, a dent upon the straight line that was the nature and system of the school. So begged the question, what would ensue in the two’s encounter?

“Very well then... Tommy, it is a pleasure to meet you'', Tommy ironically greeted.

It is strange how anticlimactic life can be at times.

Upon hearing this, several of his followers froze in their place. They could not believe what had just transpired.

Did that seriously just happen? was the line of thought that had occupied many of their minds.

The tension unravelled in an instant, realisation of his misstep in words spread like wildfire, much to the amusement of Lucius, who in stride used all of his restraint to avoid facepalming. Only Harux seemed to not realise what had happened, his idle expression unchanging as he stood there scratching his chin.

“How dare you mock me, mongrel!” Tommy yelled, jabbing his finger forward. “You shall quickly learn your place as my inferior, Mortius.”

At this point, a blush had occupied parts of his face, but even so, his spirit had not yielded.

Even to his most dedicated followers, this line of dialogue had come off as needlessly cheesy, the resemblance between Tommy and a cartoon villain seeming less like an uncanny imagination and more like reality. Tommy, aware of this, had enough. He had stood for this insolence for far too long, and he would not let Lucius, much less his mere underlings make a fool out of him.

Tommy, who otherwise would have been composed, and at ease with the workings at hand, now showed far more emotion than otherwise appropriate for his standard, to the point where even his followers held doubts over his dilemma.

Thus he initiated part two of his master plan. If Lucius would not submit, then he would make him.

“In fact, from this point onwards, you shall carry my school bag.” Tommy declared, his eyes flashing with anger.

For him, the act of his bag being taken would have signified submission, a practice dating back centuries with slaves at their masters' behest working laboriously on monuments dedicated to their being or carrying sticks that scraped against their skin to support a palanquin. If Lucius were to take this first step, then it would only lead to his inescapable doom.

As if expecting Lucius to just yank the bag off his back, Tommy did not move, resulting in him just standing there, waiting. It seemed then that an eternity would pass, with what followed being another prolonged silence, aphonic on each attempt to speak up and say something, he instead just kept to himself.

Lucius, in his composure, could not help but feel all of this was a little bit of an overreaction.

D-dammit. Tommy thought, having expected a tad less resilience, he admitted to the slight miscalculation of Lucius’s skills in cunning and charisma. But he had not given up yet. Tommy had learned that sometimes, further incentive needed to be given. And therefore, corresponding to this train of thought, he quickly took off his bag before handing it to Lucius, holding it in the air between them.

“.....”

“Hnn,” Tommy nudged.

“.....”

This did not change anything. The billionaire chose to simply turn and smile at the audience, a large grin on his face both portrayed his amusement and incomprehension, each passing second added to the ridicule Tommy faced.

In quite the predicament, Tommy zoned out.

He had lost his cool and, in a moment of stupidity, had messed up his words, causing him to look like a fool in front of everyone. In addition to this, Lucius had not given in to his demands and did not show any signs of faltering. In short, everything was going wrong.

Still, a glimmer of hope remained.

If Lucius wouldn’t fall, what about that elvish mongrel? That was right, the highlight of the figure seen out of the corner of his eye, a quick and systematic analysis was conducted. Messy hair combined with his lazy stance meant that he was most likely a grunt, capable only of violence and clownery, one easily vulnerable to words as smooth as silk and charms as prominent as his.

“And you there, your name is Harux, correct?” Tommy questioned, his finger now pointing towards the elf. “You shall be my subordinate as well from now on.”

“Huh? Why?” Harux said in a disinterested tone, yawning as if he had just awakened from a nap.

Oops.

“I-Isn’t that obvious? You’re inferior to me.” Tommy said, his eyes still on Lucius.

“Well, you wouldn’t know unless you actually fight me, would you?” Harux challenged his eyes, now full of excitement as he adjusted his posture as if to prepare for a battle.

His current plan in tatters, Tommy and his acolytes realised that no matter what they did, in the current situation, neither Harux nor Lucius would cave into their demands. That and possibly, just possibly, that Tommy had lost his marbles.

And as such, Tommy decided that the most logical course of action was a ‘tactical retreat’.

“Hmph, there is no need to fight a mongrel like you. The difference in power is obvious.” Tommy declared, though not before swinging his right arm to the side as a military leader would. The signal transferred, his gang of cronies followed him as he performed a graceful 180 turn back to his table.

Well, at least it’s over. Lucius thought, rolling his eyes. He made his way to the food stand, where a young, enthusiastic cook handed him a plate filled with vegetables and fish.

It was a satisfying meal, if anything, one befitting more of a lower class, he thought to himself as he made his way through consuming it, adding the note that it also at least served a nutritional purpose.

Harux, though, you would have supposed from his reaction, was having the equivalent of the time of his life condensed within one small plate, or more like three. Being the great consumer of food that he was, Harux was, to put it frank, not one with very high standards. A positive attribute that more should attest to, Morgana, inspired by his pleasure, forced herself to recall starving Crilandese children and consequently was now enjoying herself more, though to a much lesser degree.

Be that as it may, she would have never revealed her distaste regardless.

All the while, Tommy and his gang, who were still present in the room, albeit at a distant corner, spied on them. Their minds no doubt in the midst of conspiring a ploy to punish Lucius for “humiliating” Tommy.

With an exaggerated sigh, Lucius wrought his will for what was to come.

Though at least, even if only for a short period of time, Lucius and his friends were left in peace, with the occasional wayward glance from the former towards his newly acquainted hooligan verifying as much.

And just as Lucius had made an effort to verify the conditions of his new predicament, the same would have been said for Tommy. His shoulders hunched, and his will depleted, his ears were now the audience to a hubbub of laughter and shouting. Try as the latter may overtake the former in strength and sound, it proved futile. Contemptuous and deriding, all along the cafeteria were the indelectable noise of insolent fools, ones who, in their moment of emotional dominance over their ‘oppressor', opted for the one advantage they had over Tommy.

Numbers. Countless in sheer size and quantity, it seemed that their advantage proved insurmountable, as his own goons, befuddled at the current state of affairs, could do nought but propose dull, slow-witted plans.

At the nadir of his school life, Tommy was now drowning in an indescribable emptiness.