"Guys, stop!" Toby yelled, waving his wooden staff so frantically it nearly whacked Bob in the nose.
"This way, we will never come to a decision! If we keep arguing, we will be here for eternity!"
The arguing immediately ceased. They all looked at the young healer.
"He's right," Marcus said, adjusting his collar as if he were standing in a boardroom rather than a maze. "We need a chain of command. A single voice to make the final calls."
"Agreed," Bob nodded, hugging his frying pan. "But who?"
"Of course it should be me! I have experience leading a team of forty!" Marcus puffed out his chest. "Even though the company was always operating at a massive loss for completely unknown reasons, it definitely wasn't because I was incompetent!"
"No, I should be the leader! I told you, I have the best instincts!" Bob argued.
"No, it should be me! My analysis says that if you select me, I have a fifty percent chance of selecting the right path here!" Arthur countered.
"No, it should be me!"
Instead of ending, the argument simply started again. The logic was exactly the same; only the volume had increased.
In the distance, Ian facepalmed so hard he nearly bruised his forehead.
"How about we do it the democratic way?" Toby suggested brightly. "We hold an election. Right here, right now. Each of us will give a short speech on why we should be selected as the party leader, and then we all vote."
Ian stared at the poisonous healer in disbelief. He didn't expect the kid to give a relatively decent suggestion. At the same time, he knew it was probably the most dangerous idea yet.
After all, the leadership wasn't exactly a prize in this situation. These idiots just didn't realize the severity of the situation.
The leader got to make the decisions, sure, but they also inherited all the blame. A successful leader got a pat on the back, and a failing leader a sword in their back.
So for now, Ian didn't want to touch the leadership position with a ten foot pole.
"Excellent idea!" Marcus exclaimed, clearly already picturing his face on a motivational poster. "I'll go first. Ahem. Fellow survivors. When I took over the regional sales division..."
Ian let out a long sigh. It was going to be a very, very long election season at this rate.
He wondered how far the other teams had reached by now. They were probably fighting epic monsters, finding treasure, or at least dying with some dignity. Meanwhile, they were currently stuck at the first turn, hosting a local election.
For the next fifteen minutes, Ian was subjected to the most surreal political debate in the history of humanity.
Marcus spoke first, utilizing wild hand gestures to emphasize his corporate buzzwords.
"...And that is why, if elected, I will bring our survival chances to a stage never seen before!"
"My turn!" Toby chimed in, waving his staff dangerously close to Marcus, who actively dodged it like it was a live grenade.
One after another, the four men gave their speeches, ending with Bob, who passionately delivered a slogan: "Vote Bob for a peaceful tomorrow!"
"Ian, it's your turn," Bob called out.
"I'll pass," Ian said without missing a beat.
"You can't pass!" Marcus frowned, putting his hands on his hips like a disappointed middle school teacher. "This is a democratic process! You have to take part."
Ian looked at the four expectant faces staring at him. He let out a sigh. If they wanted a speech, he would give them a speech.
A speech so completely devoid of hope, ambition, or usefulness that it would permanently cement him as the most untouchable member of the group.
He needed to make it crystal clear that they couldn't rely on him, ensuring they would think twice before using him as a scout or a meat shield which required faith in the shield.
He stepped forward, awkwardly adjusting his broken arm.
"I am an F-Rank member of the team, probably the lowest ranked amongst all," Ian declared flatly. "I have zero combat stats. My right arm is shattered, meaning I cannot lift anything heavier than a small pebble. My class weapon is a literal deck of paper playing cards."
He paused, making sure they were hanging onto every word.
"If we encounter a monster, I will not fight it. I will run. If the monster is faster than me, I will actively try to trip one of you so I can get away."
The four men stared at him, absolutely speechless.
"I have zero leadership qualities, a terrible sense of direction, and if you make me the leader, I guarantee we will all die a horrible, painful death,"
Ian finished smoothly. "Thank you for your time. Please vote for me."
Ian stepped back, looking incredibly satisfied. It was an incredible speech for his goals. There was absolutely no way anyone with a functioning brain would put their life in his hands after that.
"A very... interesting presentation," Arthur mumbled awkwardly, adjusting his glasses.
He didn't know if Ian was employing some sort of high-level reverse psychology, or if he was simply a sociopath. Either way, Arthur felt a little scared of him.
"Now, how shall we conduct the ballot?" Arthur asked. "We don't have paper."
"How about we write the name of the person we are voting for on the ground?" Bob suggested. "We can use our fingers or nearby rocks. It should be easy enough, considering our floor is literally made of dirt."
"That sounds good enough," Marcus nodded. "In that case, let's all face outward in a circle so we can't see each other's choice. We carve the names, and on the count of three, we turn around and tally the votes."
"I have no problems with this suggestion," Arthur agreed.
"I'm fine with it as well," Toby chirped.
"Me too," Bob said.
Soon, the method of voting was finalized, and everyone scrambled to find a sharp little rock.
Even Ian was no exception, since he had been dragged into this democratic process. He picked up a small stone with his good left hand and took his place in the outward-facing circle, staring at the ground.
"Start writing your votes!" Bob exclaimed, immediately dropping to his knees and aggressively scratching at the ground.
The others did the same, the sound of scraping stones filling the place, accompanied by last-minute requests for votes from the candidates.
Ian crouched down and cast his vote. He decided to vote for the person who came across as the most normal here.
It was the swordsman, Marcus. Sure, the guy was also a mess, and yes, he had been foaming at the mouth with poison just ten minutes ago, but he still felt like the most rational choice.
Once he completely rid himself of the poison after-effects, he was going to be the only actual warrior-class person in this entire circus.
He could definitely take the lead. Ian carved the name into the dirt, fully believing that the others were going to apply a similar logic.
As long as Marcus received just one more vote aside from his, he would win, and Ian could go back to quietly hiding in the back.
At least that's what he thought…