Boxes bit into forearms as the four of them trudged along the gravel path cutting behind the horticulture sheds. The campus smelled of sap and charcoal; somewhere ahead, a bonfire cracked like knuckles. Crickets tuned up in the weeds, and the dusk light went copper on the greenhouse glass—soft, watchful, a hush before dark.

"Man, why are we stuck carrying these fucking boxes?" Fredric wondered, visibly unsatisfied.

"Well, you are a man, right?" Amy asked with a stoic expression.

"Yeah, but the two of you are contractors. Why do me and Zeke always get the short end of the stick when it comes to anything?!" Fredric aggressively wondered.

"Because you're useless to us when it comes to anything else," Amy bluntly stated.

"Coldhearted bitch!" Fredric growled.

"Grumpy camper," Amy said, imitating his tone in a stoic manner.

Zeke tried to swallow the laugh and failed—he burst out cackling so hard the cartons wobbled, nearly slipping from his grip. Pebbles rattled under his boots as he steadied himself, shoulders shaking with the kind of laughter that leaves your ribs sore and your eyes bright.

"Man, if someone told me that Fredric could get this agitated the first time we met, I wouldn't have believed them," Zeke said, laughing through tears.

"Was he that different?" Amy inquired with a surprised expression.

Fredric pushed ahead a few steps, jaw set, making a point of not being part of the conversation. The trail cut through wild grass toward a ring of benches—smoke now visible, lifting like a gray ribbon into early evening.

"Yeah, way different," Zeke explained. "If I were to summarize, the expression: "Coldhearted bitch," would be a perfect way to describe him."

"Pot calling the kettle black, huh?" Amy asked.

"I guess," Zeke smiled.

"So how did you meet?" She asked.

"He," Zeke paused. "He saved my life," Zeke cleared his throat. "Back then I was in a really bad place. So, I tried killing myself," Zeke nervously laughed with a slightly sad expression.

"In what way?" Amy wondered.

"Old fashioned?" Zeke replied, visibly confused by her question.

"So, he's a good guy after all," Amy sighed.

"He's a bit of a snob," Zeke grumpily replied. "But he's there for me when it counts."

They crested a small rise: a circle of stones, the baby fire licking at kindling; a stack of skewers and enamel mugs waiting on a folding table; the student plots beyond, tilled earth dark as chocolate under the last jog of sunlight. Heat from the flames brushed their shins, and the boxes thumped down beside the picnic crates with a relief that felt like a small victory—brief, bright, gone.

Suddenly, their conversation was interrupted by the president yelling from the distance.

"Hey guy's, hurry it up! The fire's already started, lets get this camping trip going!" She called out.

"Camping," Fredric scoffed. "We're literally on school grounds," he remarked.

"There's gotta be some excitement and wonder somewhere within your heart," the president remarked.

"I'm sorry I don't wag my tail while going to the bathroom," Fredric remarked.

Immediately the school president tensed up, her eyes glowing, burning with rage. Sparks snapped in the fire like punctuation; a gust shouldered through the trees and set the pennants flapping over the garden beds.

"Relax Melanie! There's no use of getting angry at him." Amy stared blankly into Fredric's eyes. "He's just one of those people who do nothing but nag, even when they actually enjoy themselves."

"Yeah right," Fredric smirked. "Like I'd enjoy spending my free time with two green thumb lesbians."

The slap cracked through the clearing—sharp, clean—ricocheting from trunk to trunk until the forest swallowed it. When the sound died, Melanie stood before Fredric, tears spilling from puffy red eyes, breath hitching like a snagged thread.

"Well, if that's how you feel, you're welcome to leave!" she shouted.

"You know I could have easily dodged that," Fredric smirked, staring at her with his serpentine eyes as his red, swollen cheek knit itself smooth again.

"I'm glad you didn't, you fucking bastard," Melanie scoffed, turning on her heel and running into the trees.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

"What was that about?" Fredric wondered.

"Are you dumb?" Zeke asked.

"He's dumb, no question there," Amy sighed.

"It was just a joke," Fredric explained, frowning slightly.

"Might have been me, but, well, I didn't see her laugh," Amy remarked. "you should go find her and apologize."

"Do I have to?" Fredric shook his head.

"You do!" Zeke retorted firmly, locking eyes with Fredric.

"Fine," Fredric scoffed.

In a flash he vanished into a streak of golden light and cut through the forest, branches shivering in his wake. He bounded from trunk to trunk, a blur through fern-damp shadows, until a pond opened in a quiet hollow—moon-rippled, cold enough to nip bone. Melanie sat at the bank with her feet in the water, toes worrying the current.

"Feels good, doesn't it?" Fredric asked, emerging behind her back.

"Why are you here?" Melanie asked, squinting her eyes.

"Surprised to see me?" Fredric wondered.

"No, if anything, it's predictable that you're here," Melanie stated.

"So, why do you think I'm here?" Fredric sat down next to her, gravel crunching under his heel.

"To apologize," Melanie said in shaking tone. "Because Amy forced you."

"Partially," Fredric retorted.

"And the other part?" Melanie wondered.

"I think, what I said was wrong." Fredric said, his tone turning soft and quiet. "You're definitely a heterosexual." he stated bluntly.

"Gee, thanks," Melanie laughed nervously.

"I'm sorry for being a dick." Fredric sighed.

"It's fine," Melanie closed her eyes.

"It's not," Fredric grunted.

"It's not," Melanie repeated, frantically moving her feet trying to calm down.

"You're rather blunt today," Fredric smirked.

"Say, Fredric," She called out to him. "Why did you agree to join the gardening club, when you had the option to join the combat club?" Melanie wondered.

"I already to told you, I wanted to eat vegetables." Fredric sighed.

"Are you selling them?" Melanie mumbled.

"No, why would I?" Fredric wondered.

"Because, it's what anyone with even the slightest bit of common sense would do." Melanie explained, in an annoyed tone.

"Yeah, well, I'm not a big fan of common sense," Fredric explained. "Me and Zeke just eat them."

"Alright then," Melanie swallowed. "Haven't you ever wondered why it was only me an Amy in the club before you two joined?" she asked.

"I assumed it was because no one else could match your vibe," Fredric remarked.

"I guess you're right," Melanie laughed. "Have you heard of the mana herb?" she asked.

"It's an urban legend about a plant capable of drastically increasing the amount of mana residing inside of a contractor," Fredric stated. "Why do you ask?"

"Because me and Amy managed to cultivate it," Melanie explained. "A while back we traded with some Imp villagers for a supposed root of this mana herb. It was no good for them either way because they can't collect or store mana within their bodies. During the next several months, we were able to cultivate the herb. We tried it out, and it turned out it works. We sold the herb and with the money we got from selling it, we were able to afford to establish the gardening club. After that, a bunch of people attempted to get their hands on it. Countless people tried to join the club for that reason, but I never allowed them to. Honestly, there were times when I thought that I should just let them have the herb but Amy protested every time. That was until you two came." She explained.

"Yeah, well the thing is," Fredric paused. "I'm strong enough without the herb," he laughed.

"I knew you'd say that," Melanie rested her head on Fredric shoulder.

"What are you doing?" he mumbled.

"Let me stay like this for a while. You owe me at least that much," Melanie smirked closing her eyes.

Eventually, night settled in. By the time Fredric and Melanie came back, Zeke and Amy had finished cooking—grease hissing on the grill, buns warming at the edges of the grate. They gathered close to the fire and ate burgers and sausages, laughter rising with the sparks. Fredric kept his usual snob's tilt to the chin, yet even he seemed a little lighter than usual, as if the smoke had singed away a layer of gloom. The flames painted everyone in copper and ember-red, a small republic of warmth in the wide, cooling dark.

They traded gripes about classes and small loves, then darker rumors—how gangs were creeping even past the academy gates, how several students were said to have been attacked. Zeke watched the fire, guilt tightening his face, wishing the news bent a different way.

"I will do it," Zeke thought "I will change this rotten world for the better. One step at a time." He clenched his fist.

He stared into the blaze until the pupils of his eyes swallowed it whole. The flames danced, threw lurching shadows around the ring of stones—then, for a blink, the heart of the fire flashed blue. Peering deeper, he saw it: an ominous beast sleeping somewhere inside the heat, lifting its head to open its eyes and stare back through the burning. The night seemed to pull tighter around the pit, like breath held at the edge of a name.

"You seem strange, is everything okay?" Amy asked.

"Huh?" Zeke paused. A single tear ran down his right cheek; he wiped it away before anyone could see. "Yeah, I'm fine," he remarked.

"Hey, get up, I want to show you something," Melanie remarked.

They set off beneath the boughs, the path a thread of pale dust between trunks. Zeke heard an array of footfalls—his, theirs, an echoing chorus of older steps folded into the forest. Wind slid through needles and leaves, calling and beckoning from all sides, singing his graces in a tongue of creak and hush. The trees thinned; ahead, a clearing tipped into a one-sided slope—the lip of a cliff that overlooked the city like a balcony in a ruined theater.

The moon shined brightly over them, bathing the ridge in its magnificent glow.

Zeke stopped, the hair on his arms lifting as somewhere in the dark a distant cough hitched into a gasp, then faded like a thread snapped clean.

A panoramic view of the city opened up—a grid of hundreds of thousands of buildings soldered together by necessity, a communion of survival. As darkness crept in, artificial lights rose to meet it, swathing the avenues in neon comfort. In the far distance stood a massive celestial tower, the pillar on which the "real" city was founded. And everything below—here, where they stood—was the underside: the unwanted dregs that great heights pretended not to see.

"To think I would be the one to be dragged down into the hell I wished upon them," Zeke thought looking at the vista.

"'Yo', Was it?" Fredric smirked.

"This is where we met," Zeke remarked.

"On this very day," Fredric added.

A year had passed since the two first crossed paths, yet under the moon the memory felt new—yesterday laid over today like a phantom skin. The city exhaled light; the cliff drank it in; time braided itself into a single, bright strand.

Zeke studied the lifeless sprawl and felt something vivid catch in his chest—a contagious ambition taking root, threading itself deep where fear could not reach.

"I will change this rotten world, no matter what it takes."

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