The opportunity to fight the storm would be a perfect excuse to further experiment with my power. I’ve acquired a little combat experience, fighting an overwhelming battle against Electric Blue. Although I’ve nearly died to Water Assailant and the old man.
Yet for some reason, I felt my heart thumping hard against my chest. My limbs felt weaker, almost on the verge of freezing. It became harder to breathe, and I started breathing harder as if I was gasping for air, something I’m all too familiar with, given my history of asthma attacks.
Why am I feeling like this?
My legs gave out, and I collapsed.
I thought after my reincarnation, I would never feel like this again.
“Nolval!”
I heard someone shout my alias, and saw my summoner running to me with the Blonde girl accompanying him, with the nurse coming to my position seconds later.
The nurse placed her hands on my chest and back, then my forehead. From the spots she touched, I’m guessing she was diagnosing my condition.
My summoner spoke syllables with a tone of concern, and the nurse replied. The Blonde girl nervously watched the exchange, staring between me, my summoner, and the nurse. I guessed she believed her presence to be awkward, and judging by her silence, couldn’t give any meaningful input. I wouldn’t blame her. This would be my first panic attack since my reincarnation.
When my breathing finally calmed, I got up before returning to where I had sat earlier.
My sheet was still the same as I had left it, with the accompanying paper weight.
I review the assortment of characters and boxes on the paper before putting it down again, knowing how fruitless it’d be trying to read it.
This would only work if I gave my sincere input, but I don’t even know what it’s asking. Is abstaining an option? I don’t want to sign any of this when I can’t read.
My best bet was to check if any of the students refused to sign. When I moved to check, a few students had already gotten up and handed their papers to the clerk. So I moved to see those who still had their papers.
Not all of them were filled out. Some were still in the process of being written. Some students breezed through answering them as if it were a simple survey, and others answered them with complex expressions, scrutinizing the paper as if it were evidence at a crime scene. That, or they’re just wracking their brain, trying to come up with a sufficient answer for a complex question. Either way, the sights of both didn’t help.
Everyone’s written characters and handwriting looked different from each other. I was banking on at least one of them being multiple choice with a fill-in-the-blank style prompt, but that was wishful- no, idiotic thinking.
I’ll just abstain from signing on the off chance it’s asking for a commitment of unknown duration.
I returned to where I had left my sheet, only for it to have disappeared. The rock I used as a paperweight was still there.
Meh. If someone else can use it, let them. Not my problem as long as they don’t use my name.
I decided to pass the time by creating and fidgeting with whatever small objects came to mind. Ball and jacks, a spinning top, different polyhedrons with identically-shaped faces on each side that I memorized, basically anything with simple geometry. I’d experiment with creating fidget toys with moving parts later.
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
It wasn’t until I heard the teachers’ loud voices and students getting up that I got up and joined everyone gathered around the fountain.
…
Maybe I should’ve asked Mr. Blonde to draw something explaining this situation. Even if just a snippet.
I saw students dividing themselves into 3 groups. One formed the Italian Gangster, another Mr. Bleach, and the last with the nurse. Among the students I saw in the 3 groups, I saw Fireboy and Snow White Igloo around the gangster, and Electric Blue and Brown-haired boy near Mr. Bleach. Everyone else seemed to be gathered in a crowd around Mr. Blonde and the patient. I decided to stick with the disorganized crowd, as I saw my summoner there.
Every adult in charge talked to their respective group of students. When the other 3 finished, they headed off toward the storm, taking the brick path the statue was facing.
Wait, what? I thought we were supposed to be evacuating!
I turned toward Mr. Blonde, who was quietly listening to whatever the patient had to say.
What in this world did you bring us out here for?
…
Moments later, we were brought to a warehouse building with a bunch of differently sized crates. A person dressed in a green uniform similar to the one I saw when we exited the tunnel spoke as we toured around the crates. It was a woman with shoulder-length, brownish ash blonde hair and sapphire-like eyes. She knelt to open one of the small crates to reveal its contents. It looked like dried meat wrapped in paper to keep its slices separate.
She did this with a few more crates, revealing grain, wheels of cheese, nuts, and dried fruits. I’m guessing these are foods that can be stored without refrigeration and have relatively long shelf lives. I’ll need to figure out refrigeration, especially electrical refrigerators. Sure, I could make as much snow or ice as I need to fit the shape of a fridge or freezer, but being able to do that artificially could help me make money in the future as this world’s inventor of the fridge.
Students took the crates, bringing them outside the building. I opened a crate to check its contents, confirming it was food, before bringing it toward where everyone was headed.
The Brownish Ash Blonde woman was gathering a bunch of people in front of the warehouse’s entrance, getting them to form a line. Almost everyone in line was holding a small wooden crate, its length barely longer than most people’s shoulder lengths.
One of the students took the small crate of the person closest to them and set it near the crates of food, taking 3 glass jars and scooping them into the grains, nuts, and dried fruits, filling them up, and putting them back in the small crate, before placing a slice of meat and a wheel of cheese, then giving it back to the person. Soon, others followed and performed the same routine, giving out the same rations.
So that’s what we’re doing.
My summoner looked at me as he stood next to a person holding a small crate, and pointed to the warehouse, and I followed his unspoken command, running into the building to quickly retrieve the necessary goods.
Soon, one line became multiple, with some students disturbing food to the people in line, and others going back and forth to retrieve crates of meat, cheese, grain, nuts, and dried fruits. I let my summoner handle giving the rations, since he could converse with the people we’re handing out food to.
I had to help carry food crates back to some students’ partners, as they struggled to carry back some food crates that they were capable of carrying by themselves earlier. Perhaps they’re getting fatigued with the sheer influx of people needing food.
Although we did our best to keep up, some showing more enthusiasm and effort than others, the crowd only grew as our warehouse supply dwindled. The building’s size was comparable to an airplane hangar for a propeller plane, maybe a small private jet, and yet we were going through a crate about every 3 minutes.
I looked at the storm still lingering in the sky.
Suddenly, a ring pulsed outward from the storm. If you blinked, you’d miss it. It came and went in less than a second.
That’s new.
Seconds later, a loud crashing noise came from the warehouse. Everyone was startled. There were yelps from the people lined up to get food. I even saw some students dropping the crates they were in the process of carrying.
After the cries of panic, a few students quickly composed themselves, conjuring their respective elements, ready to fight the potential ambush. They slowly got closer, all aimed at the smoke crater in the food warehouse.
A wind student blew away the smoke and dust floating around, revealing what had crashed into the warehouse.
It was Ms. Grey, lying at the bottom of the newly formed crater, unconscious.
