SSS Talent: From Trash to Tyrant

Several hours had passed since breakfast.

By now, it was already afternoon. The train had left Velkaris far behind a long time ago, thousands of kilometers away from the city. It had crossed forests, low mountains, and a great river where massive shapes could be seen moving beneath the water, dark monsters following the current far below the bridge.

The train did not stop at any city along the way.

It had been designed for this route, for this destination, and nothing else.

At some point, the temperature outside began to drop.

Cynthia, who had been watching through the window for a while, leaned slightly forward.

”Look, Trafalgar. Snow. It seems we reached the place they mentioned.”

Trafalgar was sitting beside her with a book in his hands. He had been reading until she spoke. It was a novel from an author of this world, something he had picked up mostly because he had time, and because once they reached Aurevane, relaxing would probably become much harder.

He lowered the book and followed Cynthia’s attention.

Outside, the scenery had changed completely.

A vast plain of snow stretched across the land, broken only by distant mountains and scattered black shapes of rock half-buried beneath white. The train had already begun slowing down. At first, snow fell gently past the windows, thin enough to see through. Bit by bit, the wind grew stronger, the flakes thickened, and mist began swallowing the landscape until there was almost nothing left beyond the glass.

”It looks like we reached the area they said would delay us,” Trafalgar said, closing the book lightly over one finger to keep his place. ”I wonder how long it will really take.”

Cynthia no longer seemed interested in the view.

The storm outside had grown heavier, snow rushing sideways with enough force to make the window look like a wall of white motion. There was fog mixed into it too, so dense that the world beyond the train disappeared almost completely.

”The temperature outside must be awful,” Cynthia said.

”Probably,” Trafalgar replied. ”But you were in Euclid.”

”I don’t think it’s the same. Euclid was fine, within reason.”

Her face warmed slightly after saying that.

The memory came too easily. Euclid’s snow, the gardens, and Trafalgar handing her his jacket when he noticed she was cold. Cynthia stopped there and said nothing more.

Trafalgar noticed the pause, but did not comment.

He returned to his book.

The story itself was not bad. A little strange in places, but interesting enough. He had learned that novels from this world had a different sense of pacing, probably because people here thought about age, travel, and danger differently. What seemed absurdly long on Earth was sometimes normal here. What seemed dramatic to others often felt like a regular Tuesday to him.

Still, it was a good distraction.

Or it had been.

The train began to move more than before.

Not enough to be dangerous, but enough that the carriage no longer felt perfectly smooth. The floor trembled under his feet in small uneven pulses, and every now and then a stronger gust of wind pushed against the outer barriers hard enough to make the entire car shift.

Trafalgar lifted his eyes from the page.

He knew the train was safe. Selara had helped with its creation, and for all her chaos, she was not incompetent. But he had to admit that feeling the car shudder like that while surrounded by snow and fog was not exactly comforting.

The train slowed again.

At this point, it probably was not even moving at a fifth of its top speed.

The door of the wagon opened, and the same staff woman from earlier entered with the same professional expression as before. She held herself well despite the shaking beneath her feet.

”Dear passengers,” she said, her voice clear enough to reach the few who remained in the car, ”the snowstorm we are currently crossing has proven stronger than expected. We are traveling at the optimal speed to ensure passenger safety while maintaining the route. We apologize for the inconvenience. If you require anything, please call for the staff.”

Selara, who had apparently returned from the restaurant at some point and was occupying a seat as if she owned the whole train, raised her head.

”Will there be a delay?”

”Unfortunately, yes, Director Selara.” The woman dipped her head slightly. ”Current projections estimate that we will leave the snowstorm in eight to ten hours.”

Selara made a small face, though not an especially worried one.

”Thank you for informing us.”

The staff woman gave a polite bow and left the car.

The wagon was almost empty now.

Selara rose soon after and wandered out again, probably back to the restaurant or to annoy some poor member of the staff. Most of the other students were somewhere else in the train, walking around, resting, eating, or exploring the areas they were allowed to enter.

That left Trafalgar and Cynthia alone in the wagon.

”Well,” Trafalgar said, glancing toward the white wall beyond the window, ”I suppose we are sleeping peacefully on the train tonight.”

Cynthia did not answer immediately.

He looked at her properly this time.

She seemed tense.

Not the normal kind of alertness she carried in unfamiliar places. Her hands had tightened over her knees, and although the curtain near the window was still open, she had stopped looking outside. Trafalgar had seen her take the academy train many times. The line between Velkaris and the academy never bothered her. She used it normally, without any issue.

So this was not the train itself.

”Are you alright?” he asked.

Cynthia looked at him, and for once she did not try very hard to hide it.

”Not really,” she said. ”I’m scared.”

Trafalgar shifted slightly toward her.

”The train’s movement?”

She shook her head.

”No. It’s the storm. Storms terrify me.”

Trafalgar looked toward the window, then reached over and pulled the curtain shut.

”You could have closed this if it scared you.”

Cynthia stared at the curtain as if she had completely forgotten it existed.

Maybe she had.

Even with the window covered, her shoulders did not ease much. The train kept trembling through the storm, and the wind hit hard enough that the sound carried faintly through the walls.

Trafalgar closed the book and placed it beside him.

He stood, moved from his seat, and sat next to her instead.

He did not say anything.

He simply made the gesture.

Cynthia clearly had not expected it. She stayed rigid for a breath, as if trying to decide whether to pretend she did not need it. Then the train shook again, a little harder than before, and she leaned her head against his shoulder.

Her voice came quieter after that.

”Do you remember when I told you my mother used a bow, and that’s why I use one too?”

Trafalgar looked ahead, keeping still so she would not feel him shift away.

”Yes. I also remember apologizing for bringing up something delicate.”

Cynthia’s fingers tightened slightly over the fabric of her skirt.

”Yes. And I told you it was fine.” She breathed in, slower this time, though the storm still moved around them like a living thing outside the train. ”It has something to do with why I’m scared now.”