Happenings on the Field Trip [6] - Hours before Chaos

Just as he was about to take off his uniform to free himself from the tight clothing, someone tapped on his tent. Opening it, Quill was confronted by Silas, holding a teapot in one hand and two small glasses in the other.

'...Was he following me?'

If Silas had been following him, Quill hadn't noticed, possibly because Silas had drunk a potion that reduced his presence.

Silas's potions worked on certain rules; he could make any potion as long as he had the right ingredients. The only things he was able to enhance were the traits humans naturally possessed, be it speed, strength, stealth, anything.

"I, uh, wanted to have a chat," Silas began, his tone unusually hesitant as he noticed Quill's guarded expression. "About... well, everything, I guess. I'm sure you already sensed something was off about me."

'Well, that's an understatement,' Quill thought, maintaining his composure.

Without a word, Quill gestured with his hand for Silas to enter the tent.

The tent was spacious, like all the tents, and the ground wasn't simply a hard surface. Instead, it had a nice, comfy carpet, making both of them sit on the ground comfortably.

A heavy silence settled between them as Silas poured the tea into two glasses. "...I thought having traditional tea together might ease the atmosphere, you know, like how powerful people do in meetings," Silas chuckled, attempting to break the ice.

Quill managed a small smile, reaching out for one of the glasses. The tea was steaming, a soft greenish color, very inviting to drink.

"So?" Quill started, his cup still in his hand, watching as Silas drank his own.

"So... got any questions?"

'So he wants me to lead the conversation, ...very well.'

"Why did you approach me at all?" Quill asked directly, his tone firm.

"Straight to the point, huh?" Silas responded, taking a deep breath. "Let's just say I have a complicated past with people like you."

"People like me?" Quill echoed, his eyebrows furrowing.

Silas let out a small laugh, though there was no humor in it. "This is exactly what I don't understand about you. You act as if you don't know your own past. No... you act as if your past doesn't exist. ...Well, I guess that is something we have in common."

Quill's gaze hardened. "Just answer my question, please."

"Sure. You asked what kind of people? The kind that used their own hierarchical power to squash others, to use them for their own purposes, showing no sympathy or empathy."

"What did I do to earn that judgment?"

"That is the big question, isn't it?" Silas said, his eyes narrowing. "Let's just say you took away something—no, someone precious to me."

'So it is something personal... but what does he mean by "took away"? Did I, no, did Quill kill someone?'

 Quill's thoughts drifted back to the ominous video he had received on the first day.

It was from an unknown source, something a student shouldn't be able to send. Someone with authority over the school's security, perhaps, but there was no way Silas had that kind of connection.

'...Unless he found someone with a grudge against Quill... or not even Quill, against the Nocturnes in general,' he considered.

It was a possibility, but a far-fetched one.

Besides, the video was taken by someone female.

"Are you talking about a boy with white hair?" Quill asked, his voice low.

"Ha, so you do remember," Silas said, his tone cold and collected.

"...Who is that?"

"Hahaha, isn't that a cruel thing to say? Forgetting the one you are responsible for murdering," Silas replied, his eyes boring into Quill's.

'That confirms it,' Quill thought, feeling a cold knot form in his stomach.

Quill's eyes narrowed as he pieced together the fragments of the conversation. "Does that mean you're the one who sent me the video?" he asked.

Silas's response, however, only deepened Quill's confusion. "I'm not sure I'm following what you mean. What video?" Silas's expression was genuine, his brown eyes reflecting sincere bewilderment.

Quill studied Silas intently, searching for any sign of deceit. 'Why would he deny it now? At this point, any facades are unnecessary,' he thought, frustration bubbling beneath the surface.

"Never mind," Quill muttered, his voice tinged with resignation.

Silas shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly, as if the tension in the tent was inconsequential. "Alright, if you say so," he replied, taking another sip from his tea, the steam curling lazily in the air.

"Your tea is getting cold," Silas said, his voice carrying an unsettling calm.

Quill blinked, realizing he had completely forgotten about the warm glass in his hand. He brought it to his lips, the steam curling into his face.

Just as the rim touched his mouth, a thought struck him like lightning.

Quill abruptly lowered the glass, placing it back on the ground with deliberate care. Silas's eyes widened, a flicker of confusion crossing his features.

"What is in that tea?" Quill demanded, his voice turning icy. The sudden shift in tone caught Silas off guard, sending a shiver down his spine.

"What? Don't like Yasmin tea?" Silas tried to keep his voice steady, but the undercurrent of nervosity was evident.

"Shut the hell up, and tell me what you put in that damn tea." Quill's red eyes locked onto Silas's brown ones, blazing with a barely restrained fury.

He looked like a predator ready to pounce on its prey.

Silas had never seen this side of Quill before, and it left him momentarily paralyzed.

Silas slowly began to stand up, trying to mask his growing panic.

Quill raised his hand, and threads shot out from every corner, attaching themselves around the tent, creating a web that left Silas with minimal space to move.

With a flick of his wrist, Quill deactivated [Camouflage], making the threads visible.

Silas's attempt to maintain his composure faltered. "What do you think you're doing, Quill?" he stammered, his voice betraying his panic. 

He instinctively reached for his pocket, fingers brushing against the cool glass of a potion vial.

"Don't," Quill growled, his voice dripping with menace. "Pull out one of those damn potions, and you'll find out exactly what I think of it."

The threat was enough to make Silas stop in his tracks and sit back down, his face pale.

Silas suddenly screamed, "HELP!"

"We're isolated; nobody will hea—" Quill's words were cut off as the tent door was sliced open with a swift, precise motion.

Standing in the entrance was a young female student with white hair floating around her like a halo. Her dark blue eyes scanned the scene, and in her hand, she held a spear flickering with pure light.

With a swift motion, she lunged forward, slicing through Quill's threads as if they were made of air.

The speed and precision of her attack left Quill momentarily stunned.

His mind was racing, but his body couldn't keep up.

He realized with a sinking feeling that there was no way to win this confrontation safely.

Pointing her spear at Quill, the girl spoke, her voice as cold as ice.

Her dark blue eyes were as threatening as Quill's own.

Her presence exuded a chilling aura, contrasting with Quill's seething anger.

"Drink it," she commanded, her voice unwavering.

Quill knew he was trapped. Weiss Licht was a formidable opponent, and she blocked the only exit. Even if he managed to create another path, she would pierce him before he could escape.

And now, with Silas free, the odds were even more stacked against him.

But at that moment, Quill's anger flared, driven by a deep-seated hatred.

He wanted to tear them both apart for dredging up memories he had desperately tried to bury.

"I said drink it," Weiss repeated, her voice growing more menacing as she pressed the spear closer, the tip just inches from Quill's head.

'Calm down, calm down, calm down,' Quill repeated to himself, trying to reign in his rage.

He reached for the glass, his hand trembling slightly, and brought it to his lips, pouring the contents into his mouth.

He drank the entire glass, the liquid burning its way down his throat.

The rage within him surged, his blood boiling, his veins pulsating with fury.

Every fiber of his being was consumed by a hatred that wasn't Quill Nocturnes—it was the wrath of Elias Rosental.

Quill's red eyes locked onto Weiss's dark blue ones, his gaze burning with intensity. "You'd better hope whatever you gave me kills me," he hissed, his voice dripping with venom.

The sheer force of his words sent a wave of unease through both Silas and Weiss.

It wasn't a display of power, ability, or affinity; it was pure, unadulterated bloodlust.

Elias felt his trait [Clear Minded] fighting against the overwhelming rage, but it was futile.

The hatred of Elias Rosental was too strong to be subdued.

"Because if I wake up, I will kill you, both of you," he vowed, his eyes boring into Weiss's, leaving no room for doubt or escape from the grim promise etched in his voice.

As the world started to fade, Quill's gaze remained fixed on the white-haired girl. His body slowly gave out, and he collapsed to the ground, the darkness swallowing him whole.

/||\

Seeing Quill Nocturne's body lying unconscious on the carpet, Weiss dismissed her spear of pure light, her expression unchanging.

"What the hell was that pressure?!" Silas gasped, struggling to steady his breath.

The intensity of Quill's presence had left him rattled. It wasn't just the anger Quill displayed—it was something deeper, something primal.

"It felt like more than just anger," Silas muttered, glancing at Weiss's dark blue eyes, now cold and lifeless. "Like he was furious about more than just what happened here."

Weiss ignored his remark. "How long until he wakes up?" she demanded, her voice icy.

Silas hesitated, choosing his words carefully. "Well, technically, he won't wake up without the antidote."

Weiss's gaze sharpened. "Technically?"

Silas swallowed hard, feeling the weight of her stare. "He's in a deep sleep, experiencing what his mind perceives as a happy dream. Unless he realizes it's a dream and chooses to wake up, he won't regain consciousness."

"Why a happy dream?" Weiss's tone was skeptical.

"Well," Silas began, nervously, "if it were a nightmare, he might try to escape it. But in a perfect dream, why would anyone want to leave? Who wants to face the reality that their happiness is fake?"

Weiss remained silent, considering his words. She walked over to Quill's limp body, lifting him effortlessly and slinging him over her shoulder.

"His tent's isolation works to our advantage," Silas remarked. "It'll make it easier for you to take him without being seen."

"Handle the teachers," Weiss instructed curtly. "If they ask why we're in the forest, lie. I don't care what you say."

"I know, I know," Silas replied, a hint of frustration in his voice. He understood the stakes—they couldn't afford any teacher discovering their true activities.

"Hey," Silas called after her, his voice tinged with genuine concern. "Don't kill him. That would cause more problems than it would solve. The Nocturne family wouldn't take it lightly."

Weiss didn't respond, her expression unreadable.

She exited the tent, carrying Quill's unconscious form into the darkened forest.

The shadows seemed to swallow them, leaving Silas alone to contemplate the dangerous path they were treading.

/||\

The fire glowed warmly in the dense darkness, casting flickering shadows that created a cozy, almost enchanting atmosphere.

"Oh, there he is, sitting over there!" a high voice called out.

A petite girl with bright brown shoulder-length hair, Ana, appeared, followed closely by a boy with voluminous, messy blonde hair, Oliver.

Violeta sprinted toward the figure with dark brown tousled hair and glowing purple eyes that seemed to pierce the night.

"Emrys, where did you go?" Oliver asked.

Emrys turned his head toward Oliver and asked, "Huh? Oh, there you guys are. I swear, next time you all want to go somewhere, at least tell me." He puffed, trying to play off his surprise.

"What are you talking about?" Violeta snapped, folding her arms. "You were the one who disappeared without a word."

"What?" Emrys looked genuinely confused as the others took a seat on the grass beside him, basking in the warmth of the bonfire.

"I was literally here," he explained. "I closed my eyes for just a few minutes, and when I opened them, you all were gone."

"Are you kidding me? Did you hit your head somewhe—"

"Well, I guess it doesn't really matter," Oliver interrupted, attempting to defuse the rising tension. Violeta rolled her eyes in soft anger, a sense of déjà vu washing over her.

"Haha, maybe my body was sleepwalking," Emrys joked. "I was tired, I admit. But after my power nap, I feel like I could take down a whole army."

"Yeah, sure," Violeta laughed, the tension easing.

"Hey, Anastasia, everything alright?" Emrys asked, noticing her anxious expression.

"H-Huh...? Oh... Yeah, it's just... I feel a bit eerie," Ana replied, her voice tinged with unease.

"Well, with the possibility of a Reaper lurking behind the bushes, I can understand what you mean," Oliver added, glancing nervously over his shoulder.

Ana remained silent, her worry evident.

"Don't worry," Emrys said reassuringly, his comforting smile returning. "If there were any nearby danger, the professors would have already taken care of it."

The crackling fire continued to glow, casting a warm light on the group as they settled in, the earlier tension dissipating into the night.