The cafeteria felt different when you were planning to invade another dimension with people who wanted you dead. Every conversation seemed louder, every glance more suspicious, every bite of food potentially your last decent meal before getting eaten by something with too many teeth.

"So we’re really doing this," Jordan said, stabbing his pasta like it had personally offended him. "Teaming up with Blair and her merry band of psychopaths to fight monsters in a death forest."

"That’s reductive," Naomi corrected gently, spreading her notes across the table between our lunch trays. She’d already pulled three different textbooks from her bag and color-coded a preliminary analysis of C-rank forest biome threats. "They’re not all psychopaths. Marcus specializes in earth manipulation, which suggests defensive capabilities. Elena’s illusion work could provide tactical advantages. And Trevor’s enhancement abilities would complement our existing strengths."

"You memorized their team composition already?" Belle asked, looking up from her phone where she’d been scrolling through gate footage for the past twenty minutes.

"I memorized everyone’s abilities during orientation week. Basic strategic preparation." Naomi turned a page in her notebook, revealing charts that mapped every first-year student’s documented powers. "Blair herself remains the primary variable. Her fire manipulation is A-rank, but she tends toward overwhelming force rather than precision applications."

I watched Naomi work, her pen moving across the paper in neat, economical strokes that somehow made sense of the chaos we were walking into. She’d tied her dark hair back in a simple ponytail that exposed the graceful line of her neck, and the afternoon sunlight streaming through the windows caught the gold threads in her regulation uniform. Even planning for potential death, she looked beautiful.

"Earth guy could be useful," I admitted, stealing a piece of Belle’s abandoned garlic bread. "Defensive walls, terrain manipulation. If the forest biome includes unstable ground or vertical elements, having someone who can reshape the environment gives us options."

"Trevor’s the muscle," Belle added, finally putting her phone down. "Pure physical enhancement, no finesse. He hits things until they stop moving. Effective but predictable."

"And Elena?"

"Illusion specialist. Visual distortions, phantom doubles, sensory manipulation." Belle’s expression darkened slightly. "She’s the one who makes people see things that aren’t there. Or stops them from seeing things that are."

The way she said it suggested personal experience. I filed that away for later investigation.

"So we’ve got fire, earth, muscle, and mindfuckery on their side," Jordan summarized. "Against our wave attacks, treasure hunting, combat precognition, and whatever the hell Jace actually does."

Everyone looked at me. I took another bite of stolen bread and chewed thoughtfully.

"I hit things with sticks until they die. Sometimes I shoot energy blasts. Occasionally I make people feel good about themselves." The last part earned me a sharp look from Belle and a small smile from Naomi. "What? I’m a simple man with simple pleasures."

"Your combat scores suggest otherwise," Naomi said, her voice carefully neutral. "The improvement curve indicates abilities beyond basic physical enhancement."

Right. Because admitting I could steal powers, manipulate senses, and extract life force through milk would go over really well in a crowded cafeteria.

"Hard work and good genetics," I said instead. "Plus Vale’s been beating technique into my skull with a metaphorical hammer. Amazing what proper instruction can accomplish."

Belle snorted. "Metaphorical my ass. I’ve seen the bruises."

"Those are training injuries. Character-building experiences. Educational opportunities to learn proper defensive positioning."

"You got thrown through a wall last week."

"And I learned not to stand in front of moving Vale-shaped objects. See? Education."

Naomi’s pen paused over her notes. "He threw you through an actual wall?"

"Training room wall. It was designed to break. Probably. Vale seemed confident about the structural integrity specifications when he peeled me off the floor afterward."

"That’s..." Naomi blinked several times. "That’s not normal training methodology."

"Nothing about Vale is normal," Jordan pointed out. "Remember when he made us run laps while he shot spatial distortions at our feet? ’Agility training,’ he called it. ’Learning to adapt under pressure.’ I thought I was going to die."

"The pressure adaptation worked though," Belle said grudgingly. "Your dodge rate improved by thirty percent after that session."

"My dodge rate improved because I developed a pathological fear of standing still."

We spent the next hour dissecting every piece of available information about C-rank gates, forest biome environments, and potential combat scenarios. Naomi’s organizational skills turned our scattered knowledge into something resembling an actual plan. Belle’s tactical instincts identified weak points and exploitation opportunities. Jordan’s paranoia raised questions nobody else wanted to consider.

I mostly ate and watched Naomi work, which was infinitely more interesting than discussing theoretical monster-fighting strategies.

The way she held her pen, fingers positioned with unconscious precision. The small crease between her eyebrows when she concentrated on particularly complex calculations. The habit she had of touching her bottom lip with the pen tip when she was thinking through a problem.

"You’re staring," she said without looking up from her notes.

"I’m strategically observing our team’s tactical coordinator to assess readiness levels and operational preparedness."

"You’re staring at my mouth."

"That’s where words come from. Very strategically important area for communication assessment purposes."

Belle made a gagging sound. "Get a room, both of you. Some of us are trying to eat."

"Speaking of which," I stood and gathered my tray, which had somehow accumulated the remnants of three separate meals over the course of our planning session. "I should probably check in with Vale about equipment requirements. Make sure we have proper gear authorization for tomorrow."

Naomi looked up, her dark eyes meeting mine with that direct gaze that always made my brain temporarily forget how language worked. "I could come with you. Cross-reference the equipment list against our documented abilities, ensure we’re not missing any critical supplies."

"That sounds very responsible and academically appropriate."

"It does, doesn’t it?"

Belle and Jordan exchanged a look that suggested they weren’t buying our sudden enthusiasm for equipment inventory management.

"Just remember we have squad training at four," Belle called after us as we headed for the exit. "Try to keep your strategic planning session under two hours. Some of us need our combat coordinator functional for actual combat practice."

"We’ll be very focused on mission preparation," I promised.

"I’m sure you will be."