The rest of the field session was uneventful, for Regus at least. According to Academy ruling, there was no point to him fighting anyone weaker than someone he had already fought, so the instructor, Rekhard, the very person who Regus had just defeated, couldn't assign him to go against anyone without practically saying that they were stronger than he was. Fortunately, that rule only applied each session in the field, because although it was true that it wasn't a good measure of skill for someone to face a weaker opponent, it was still good practice to face any opponent, especially those with unique abilities that could stretch their adaptation and reaction with new situations. However, it was especially true that it wasn't a good test of skill if the person in question was facing a weaker opponent after just having been exhausted or having expended their power fighting a much stronger person.
So if Rekhard was in charge of his second field session too, then he would be free to assign Hashim to opponents as he wished, if they were doing the same tournament in the second session that the others had been participating in in the first. If not, then they would see how it went.
Until then, or rather, until lunch when presumably another mind would take over, Regus would do as he always did.
So that was exactly what he did. Imperious, silent judging for the rest of the time.
And then it was Xavier's turn.
Xavier didn't have any problems with being in front of a crowd, and even as much as Hashim hated it, he couldn't deny that there was currently no one better than Xavier to control the body. So he got his time. Of course, he had gotten some earlier, but that had been almost an hour ago.
And really, how could you expect someone to go a whole hour without being able to do anything at all except watch someone else do things and make snarky comments?
Corpse does it, and for much more than an hour, Hashim thought in response. He wasn't wrong, not really, but Corpse couldn't be considered a person. To call him such would diminish the meaning of the word. It was like saying that a worm or a dog was a person.
So just because someone doesn't actively participate in life, preferring to spend it watching others when they have the option available to them, that means they're not a person? Hashim countered.
And, well... yes. Yes, it did. What kind of person just sat around all day and allowed everyone else to make their decisions for them? It was stupid. Xavier himself would never settle for that sort of existence. Why stand by and peer through a window at girls when he could be out among them, watching them, talking to them, laughing with them-
Shut it. Hashim demanded. Xavier listened. That last line of thought was mostly intended to annoy Hashim anyway. But in actuality, Xavier didn't want to just sit on the sidelines of his own life. It was difficult, especially since Hashim hated him so much.
He didn't even do anything to deserve it. Sure, he had a bit of an obsession, but it wasn't anything more than the others. Corpse's was with death. Hashim's was with cold, though it was less noticeable than the others. Toon's was with machines and figuring. Just because it was with girls, was it really that much worse?
In fact, Xavier's wasn't anywhere near as bad as Toon's. He didn't strive to understand them, he just did. It wasn't like he was searching their souls or taking them apart to look inside them.
People are different, Hashim thought, then he closed himself off from Xavier.
People are different.
Are they, though?
Xavier considered that as he made his way to the main feast hall with his four lackeys, as well as a few other first years.
Are people really that different from machines? They get into a routine and often stick with that routine. The difference is mostly that machines are made for a certain purpose. That meant that they were better at something than most people were, especially at the beginning.
But given time, who knew how much better the person in question could get? People could practice and improve at things, because they had actual living brains, as well as consciousnesses, and the ability to control themselves, as well as a complete lack of outside influence that let them practice and perfect whatever action they wanted to work on. it was an interesting tradeoff. You had to continually pump in more resources than you needed for a machine, but humans could outgrow any sort of limits that you put on them, whether on purpose or by accident. That being said, you did have to raise them from the time they were born, at which point and for a decade or so after they would be unable to do any but the absolute most basic of work.
It was a strange tradeoff, one that Xavier had always been interested in. Even with animals, there wasn't that same level of awareness, or self. Animals weren't individuals, not like humans. Sure, they had individual families, territories, colonies, whatever the case may be, but they just weren't sentient. They didn't have hopes and dreams. Aside from where their next meal would come from, if one stooped so low as to count that.
You could raise and breed animals for years, decades, centuries, and they would become perfect for the task you trained them to. If you tried to do the same to humans, at least one of them would eventually realize that they had other options and try to revolt. You had to ensure strict discipline and a clear power difference with humans. Even if you were standing in front of a charging bull, if it was trained well enough it would heel at the sight of its master, if it could. But give a human a sword and the strength of a bull and they would slaughter you, believing themselves to be on the side of the greater good.
That was another thing. Where did humans get the idea of greater good from?
Obviously, it had grown and evolved and originated from an individual's parents and other significant influences, mostly during childhood, but even if you traced the lines all the way back, there would be a gaping hole where it all started.
It was like... a book. Like something came along and wrote it into their minds, but then they had been forced to pass it down through word of mouth until it twisted itself in some of the more weathered places. If you tried to copy rain-blurred ink, you would get something deliberately messy. If you tried to copy a beaten-down man, you would become similarly messy.
With a start, Jake found himself in control. And for the first time, he knew what he was doing. He was not useless. He knew his purpose.
Jake let out a long breath, and then he activated his ability.
The world around them fractured, and he found himself in utter darkness.
He gasped, and an inky blackness filled his lungs. Drowning. Not in nothing, for once. Not in impotence. In power. In chaos.
In blood.