The tall, boyish girl had a commanding presence that drew the attention of the entire group. Her voice rang out with authority, “Listen up, everyone! We will all give ourselves names since we’ve all been called numbers up to this point.” Her eyes swept over the group, her determination clear as she took charge without hesitation.
433's mind churned at her words. ‘Names? Aren’t our numbers already names?’ he thought to himself. The concept seemed strange to him—numbers were all they had ever known. But he quickly dismissed the thought, sensing that this exercise was about more than just labels. He turned his attention back to the girl as she continued speaking.
“Please stand in a line in front of me,” she ordered. Without a second thought, everyone fell into line, as if her authority was something they had long been conditioned to follow. 433 found himself standing somewhere in the middle, observing the others as they silently obeyed. There was no hesitation in their movements, only the reflexive obedience that had been drilled into them through years of training.
She started assigning names to the children at the front of the line, basing each name on whatever power or trait the child displayed. It was clear she had a method, a strategy, naming each child with a word that symbolized their abilities—something that gave them an identity beyond their number.
When she finally reached 433, she paused, studying him with sharp, assessing eyes. “What’s your power?” she asked, her tone straightforward and almost impatient.
433's mind went blank for a moment. His throat tightened as he searched for an answer he didn’t have. “I-I don’t know,” he stammered, the uncertainty in his voice betraying his frustration and confusion.
She clicked her tongue in annoyance, a hint of impatience flashing in her eyes. “Tch, I'll skip you for now then,” she said dismissively, her gaze already moving past him. There was no sympathy or understanding in her tone—only the cold practicality of someone focused on a task.
She continued down the line, asking each child the same question. As they answered, she would nod thoughtfully before bestowing a name that reflected their abilities. To the child who could control fire, she gave the name "Blaze," and to the one who could move objects with his mind, she called "Shift." Each name resonated with the child it was given to, as though they were being granted a new identity that would define them in this harsh new reality.
433 stood silently, his mind buzzing with questions. ‘What’s my power? Do I even have one?’ He couldn’t help but wonder if he was the only one who had yet to discover what made him special, what would set him apart in this world where only the strongest survived. For now, he remained 433—just a number.
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“I’m called Vera, and my power is Command Manipulation,” she declared, her voice carrying a weight that made every word seem inescapable. There was a sharp edge to her tone, one that left little room for argument. Her eyes swept over the other children, assessing them with a gaze that seemed to penetrate their very souls. At ten years old, Vera stood as the oldest of the group, her presence radiating an air of maturity and authority that set her apart.
As she looked over the line of children, Vera's expression hardened slightly when her gaze landed on 433. A flicker of frustration crossed her face, though she quickly masked it. ‘433 is going to be a nuisance,’ she thought, her mind already calculating the challenges his uncertainty might bring to their cohesion as a unit. Yet, she dismissed the thought just as quickly, knowing that she needed to stay focused on the task at hand.
“I’ll nominate myself as the leader,” she continued, her voice even stronger, infused with that commanding tone that seemed to resonate through the room. “Are there any objections?” Her eyes narrowed slightly, daring anyone to challenge her, the underlying power of her Command Manipulation pulsing subtly through her words.
The room fell into a tense silence. Some of the younger children shifted nervously on their feet, avoiding her gaze, while others looked at her with a mixture of awe and submission. Just as Vera began to feel a swell of satisfaction at the apparent lack of opposition, a boy stepped forward from the line, his expression resolute.
“I object!” he exclaimed, his voice steady and clear. The other children turned their heads, surprised by his boldness. He was slightly shorter than Vera but had an undeniable presence. "I won’t follow someone who only commands without considering the strengths of the rest of us.”
Vera raised an eyebrow, surprised by his audacity but intrigued by his confidence. The tension in the room shifted as the other children murmured among themselves, curious about the challenge that had just been thrown down. ‘He thinks he can compete with me?’ she thought, a mixture of annoyance and respect rising within her. Flint’s power was indeed formidable, capable of creating unique combinations that could surpass standard elemental manipulation.
“Very well, if you believe you are fit to lead,” she replied, her tone cold but with an underlying respect for his bravery. “What do you propose we do instead?”
Flint took a step forward, his eyes glinting with determination. “We should work together, not under a single leader but as a team. Each of us has unique powers, and by mixing our abilities, we can create even more powerful effects. For example, I can combine earth and water to create mud or fire and air to form scorching winds. Together, we can learn how to harness our strengths and support one another instead of just blindly following orders.”
The other children exchanged glances, the murmurs growing louder as they considered his words. The tension in the air shifted again, this time filled with the possibility of a different kind of unity, one that embraced their strengths rather than suppressing them.