040 Team Ups - Part 1 - Mirai ‘s POV

  I had no idea Mark could look so disappointed.

  We were walking down the hallway toward our cssroom, the echo of our footsteps filling the empty space. Most of the other students had already filtered into their own rooms, leaving the hallways oddly quiet.

  Mark's expression was hard to read—his brow slightly furrowed, his mouth set in a thin line. Not angry. Not annoyed. Just… resigned.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked, brushing my shoulder lightly against his arm.

  Mark sighed. “It’s nothing.”

  “Liar.” I smiled. “Come on, tell me.”

  He hesitated, his hand brushing against the strap of his bag. “It’s this team-up.”

  I frowned. “We didn’t really have a choice.”

  “I know,” Mark said, gncing toward the row of cssroom doors as we passed them. “That’s not the problem.”

  “Then what is?”

  Mark’s mouth tightened. “It’s Karl.”

  I blinked. “Karl?”

  Mark gave me a look, the kind that said you already know the answer.

  “Oh,” I said. “…The team-building activity?”

  Mark nodded. “Yeah.”

  I ughed. “What, you think he’s going to make us do something horrible?”

  “Yes.” Mark’s tone was ft.

  I rolled my eyes. “Come on. He agreed to cooperate. That’s progress.”

  “That’s what worries me,” Mark muttered.

  I smiled. He wasn’t wrong to be wary—Karl agreeing to something without putting up a fight was suspicious. Still, I was trying to be optimistic. If Karl was willing to work with us, maybe things would go smoothly.

  …Or maybe it would completely backfire.

  “Besides,” I said, nudging Mark’s arm again. “If it’s something awful, we’ll just team up against him.”

  Mark’s mouth twitched. “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And you think that’ll work?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Mark finally smiled, just a little.

  I grinned back. “See? Problem solved.”

  Mark’s smile faded as we approached the cssroom door. “Unless Karl’s idea of team-building involves murder.”

  “Then we’ll just have to beat the sense out of him,” I said, pushing open the door.

  Mark sighed. “Great. That’s encouraging.”

  But he didn’t stop following me.

  We entered the cssroom, and Mark went to his usual corner near the back without a word. I followed him with my eyes for a moment before dragging my own seat to him. The cssroom was still filling up, students talking in low voices and swapping gossip before css officially started.

  Anna slid into the seat next to me, practically vibrating with excitement.

  “Did you see the new rankings?” she asked, leaning in.

  I blinked. “New rankings?”

  Anna pulled out her smartphone and shoved it in front of my face. “Look!”

  The screen dispyed the test inner-css rankings, which shifted every week depending on performance and evaluation by the professors. The Master oversaw the entire system, but the individual professors contributed their own points based on performance in css and combat. It was a cutthroat system, and it reflected the unspoken hierarchy among the students.

  Karl had dropped two ranks.Anna had risen one rank.Mark had dropped three ranks.Elena and Ron had each dropped a rank.

  And sitting smugly at rank one…

  “Greg?” I frowned. “How is Greg at number one?”

  “Exactly!” Anna hissed. “He was absent for the entire first week! How did he even do that?! It’s like magic!”

  Right on cue, Greg entered the cssroom—wearing a paper crown. He spread his arms wide and spun dramatically as he walked down the aisle between the desks.

  “Bow before your king!” Greg sang, his voice echoing across the cssroom.

  “Oh god,” I muttered, rubbing my temple.

  “Long live the king!” Clint called out sarcastically from the back of the room.

  Greg turned toward him, grinning. “Why, thank you, loyal subject.”

  Lo, sitting two seats over, fred her nostrils. “How the hell did you get to rank one?”

  Greg leaned on the back of her chair, his grin widening. “Oh, I don’t mind sharing my secret to success.”

  “Please enlighten us,” Anna deadpanned.

  Greg straightened, raising a single finger like he was making a grand procmation. “I simply paid Master Reina with the merit points I earned from Professor Merrick’s extracurricurs to give me perfect points and retroactively fill in my attendance for the first week.”

  There was a beat of silence.

  “…You what?” Lo demanded. “We can do that?”

  Greg beamed. “My farming merit points strategy worked so well! The system allows it, after all.”

  Clint rubbed the back of his head. “How is that even possible when we’re barely getting any merit points to begin with?”

  Greg’s grin turned sharp. “That’s because you guys are doing it wrong.”

  Anna scowled. “That’s ridiculous. Merit points aren’t supposed to be easy to farm.”

  “Oh, they’re not,” Greg said smugly. “But the loopholes are there if you know how to look for them.”

  Mark, still sitting by the window, finally looked up from his notebook. “You bribed the system.”

  Greg’s eyes twinkled. “Legally.”

  “That’s still bribery.”

  “And yet,” Greg said, tilting his paper crown, “the system accepted it.”

  Karl, sitting a row away, scoffed. “Figures.”

  Greg fshed him a grin. “Don’t hate the pyer, hate the game.”

  “You are the game,” Karl muttered darkly.

  Greg ughed, dropped into his seat, and crossed his legs on the desk. “Come on, you all just need to be more creative.”

  Anna gred at him. “Or the professors need to close the loopholes.”

  Greg shrugged. “If they close them, I’ll just find new ones.”

  I sighed. “Greg, you can’t just game the system forever.”

  Greg’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Why not?”

  I opened my mouth to respond—but then the cssroom door swung open.

  Professor Merrick walked in, his clipboard tucked under one arm. His eyes swept across the room with that usual unreadable gaze, the type that seemed to peel back yers of your mind without giving anything away in return. The chatter died almost instantly.

  Greg sat up straighter, adjusting his paper crown with a little smirk.

  Professor Merrick’s eyes drifted toward him for half a second before he started walking toward the bckboard. He picked up a piece of chalk and began writing in clean, sharp strokes.

  TEAMS

  “Like I said st time,” Professor Merrick began, his voice as crisp and cold as ever, “it is permitted to take advantage of the system, provided you do not obstruct or viote any regutions, policies, or ethical barriers.”

  Greg’s smirk deepened. He crossed his arms behind his head like he was sitting on a throne.

  “That means,” Professor Merrick continued, “if you find a loophole and exploit it within the framework of the system, it’s fair game.”

  I heard Anna mutter, ‘Of course it is.’

  “However,” Merrick’s eyes fshed dangerously, “don’t think that means the system is incapable of adapting.”

  Greg’s smile twitched.

  Merrick finished writing the word TEAMS and underlined it with a swift, sharp line. He turned to face the css.

  “Settle down,” he said. “We’ll begin.”

  The room shuffled as everyone straightened in their seats. I could feel the tension crackling beneath the surface. Merrick’s csses were never simple, and whatever he had pnned today was probably going to leave us regretting our life choices.

  “We’ve discussed strategy. We’ve discussed individual performance.” Merrick’s gaze swept across the room, lingering briefly on Mark, then Karl, then Greg. “Now we’re going to talk about team dynamics.”

  I felt a small weight settle in my chest. Team dynamics. Right.

  “In a controlled environment, your individual strength is measured by the system,” Merrick continued. “But out in the field, strength alone won’t save you. Coordination will.”

  He tapped the chalk against the bckboard.

  “So, we’re doing team exercises?” Anna asked, resting her chin on her hand.

  “Correct,” Merrick replied. “But not just any team exercises.”

  Professor Merrick turned back to the bckboard and began writing beneath TEAMS in neat, sharp strokes:

  Team A: Mark, Mirai, KarlTeam B: John, Peter, Iris, GinaTeam C: Elena, Fiona, Greg, Matt, AnnaTeam D: Ron, Hannah, Tom, Sarah, Clint, Lo

  I stared at the board, my eyes narrowing at the combination under Team A.

  “Wait… you’ve got to be kidding me,” I muttered.

  Beside me, Mark's expression remained neutral, but I could tell from the slight tension in his shoulders that he wasn’t thrilled either.

  Karl, on the other hand, scoffed loudly from across the room.

  “Well, isn’t this cozy,” Karl drawled, slouching back in his chair.

  Greg, sitting on the other side of the room, whistled. “Oof. That’s rough, buddy.”

  “Remember our little exercise this recent weekend?” Merrick’s chalk clicked against the board as he turned toward us. “The teams were configured based on the results of the tournament.”

  That expined the weird combinations.

  “The tournament-structured sparring match had three segments,” Merrick continued. “Each segment tested different aspects of team coordination, strategy, and adaptability.”

  Anna raised her hand. “What were the criteria for winning?”

  Merrick’s gaze sharpened. “That depended on the segment.”

  “And what happened if a team lost?”

  Merrick’s smile was faint and not at all comforting. “Losing carried certain… consequences.”

  A low murmur spread through the room.

  “The ranking adjustments,” I realized aloud.

  Merrick nodded. “The higher the rank, the fewer members on the team. Team A, for example, has three members.” He gestured toward the board. “Team D, at the lowest ranking, has six.”

  A ripple of understanding spread through the css.

  “That’s not exactly fair,” Clint muttered.

  “It wasn’t about fairness,” Merrick said. “It was about adaptation. High-ranked teams had to rely on precision and coordination. Lower-ranked teams had the benefit of numbers—but they needed to manage that advantage effectively.”

  Greg’s eyes gleamed. “That’s pretty cutthroat.”

  Merrick’s gaze slid toward Greg. “Naturally.”

  “So,” Greg continued, his grin widening, “you’re saying it was possible to sabotage higher-ranked teams and make it harder for them to operate with fewer members?”

  Merrick didn’t answer. His smile was slight and dangerous.

  Greg chuckled. “Nice.”

  I gnced toward Mark. His brow was furrowed slightly, his hand resting against his chin. I could practically hear the gears turning in his head.

  Anna leaned closer, her voice low. “So Team A’s basically got the worst odds, huh?”

  I sighed. “Yep.”

  “We get it,” Karl said, voice cutting through the room. “We’re the high-ranked targets. What else is new?”

  “You sound confident,” Merrick said.

  Karl’s eyes sharpened. “I’m not worried.”

  “That makes one of us,” Mark muttered under his breath.

  Karl’s gaze slid toward Mark. His smile didn’t reach his eyes.

  Merrick ignored them both. “The configuration was designed to reflect real-world conflict,” he said. “Success in the field rarely comes from individual strength alone. Even the strongest ESPers cannot survive alone. You need to trust your team.”

  Trust. Right.

  “Your first match as a team will be tomorrow,” Merrick said. “You have the rest of the day to pn your strategy. Dismissed.”

  The css erupted into conversation as Merrick turned toward the door.

  Anna turned toward me. “So… what’s the pn?”

  “Survive,” I muttered. “Wait, we aren’t on the same team!”

  Across the room, Karl’s gaze lingered on Mark. His scowl deepened as Mark stood and calmly adjusted his uniform.

  Greg stretched, yawning. “Well, this’ll be fun.”

  “That’s one word for it,” Mark said ftly.

  “Rex,” Greg said, fshing a smile. “You’ve got Mirai. And Karl. And… y’know, the power of friendship or whatever.”

  Karl’s scowl deepened.

  Mark sighed. “We’re so screwed.”

  Just as the chatter in the room was dying down, the door swung open again. Professor Merrick strode back in, this time carrying a neat stack of papers under one arm.

  The room quieted almost immediately. That was the effect Merrick had—he didn’t demand attention; it simply gravitated toward him.

  “Now that we’ve settled the matter of teams,” Merrick said, pcing the stack of papers on his desk with a sharp cp, “let’s move on to the next order of business. But before that, I have something to add. In the spirit of transparency, I believe it’s time to reveal a certain… arrangement.”

  A murmur passed through the room.

  “I mentioned earlier that John Craig was allowed to choose his team.” Merrick’s gaze slid toward John, who sat with his arms crossed and head tilted slightly down. “That was not a random privilege. It was earned.”

  I blinked. Earned?

  “John performed exceptionally during the tournament,” Merrick continued. “Despite… the complications that a certain student caused, I’ve decided to give him the opportunity to choose his team from a pool of selected candidates between Teams B and C.”

  That was… enlightening.

  John had said he already knew his team—but I didn’t think it was because of that.

  “Interesting,” Greg said, his grin sharp. “So you’re saying John had insider privileges?”

  Merrick’s smile sharpened. “I am saying that John was rewarded for his strategic performance.”

  Greg chuckled. “Semantics.”

  John shrugged, his expression unreadable. “It’s not that deep,” he said. “It just means you aren’t the only one who knows how to game the system… In my case, I got myself the opportunity to pick my team.”

  Peter, sitting a seat away from John, raised an eyebrow. “You picked me?”

  John gave a single nod. “You’re reliable.”

  Peter looked faintly surprised—but pleased.

  Greg leaned back in his chair. “Man, and here I thought you didn’t care about social dynamics.”

  John’s eyes slid toward Greg. His expression remained bnk. “I don’t.”

  “Could’ve fooled me,” Greg muttered, eyes glittering.

  Merrick ignored the exchange and lifted his hand. The stack of papers on his desk rose into the air in perfect formation, then fanned out across the room. With a flick of his fingers, the papers darted toward each desk, nding in front of each student with crisp precision.

  “Whoa,” Anna whispered beside me.

  I grabbed my sheet before it could slide off the desk. It was a multi-page handout—equations, complex graphs, and what looked suspiciously like physics problems that were way above my pay grade.

  “Since you’re all going to be working in teams, I’ve prepared some… colborative exercises,” Merrick said.

  Greg groaned. “With Math and Physics? Does that make sense?”

  Merrick smiled thinly. “Consider it an early team-building activity.”

  “Didn’t Karl already promise us one of those?” Mark muttered.

  Karl, sitting at the opposite end of the room, shot Mark a cold look.

  Merrick began pacing at the front of the cssroom. “Mathematics and physics form the backbone of strategic combat. Understanding trajectory, velocity, and force is not optional—it’s a necessity. Improper calcution leads to failure. Failure leads to death.”

  A heavy silence settled over the room.

  “Lovely,” Anna muttered.

  Merrick tapped the bckboard with his knuckles. “The handouts contain a mix of individual and group problems. You will be graded both individually and as a team.”

  Greg propped his chin on one hand. “This sounds like a scam.”

  “It is not a scam,” Merrick said. “It is preparation.”

  Elena flipped through her handout, her brow furrowing. “This is combat math.”

  “Correct.” Merrick’s gaze sharpened. “Projectile arcs. Kinetic force. ESP augmentation. Energy expenditure.”

  Greg made a face. “I miss Master Reina already. Boring.”