I raised my hand toward the door and imagined it opening slowly. As the door opened outward, a white beam of light shone through the growing gap.

  There were voices of astonishment behind me. I knew they were celebrating the fact that they were finally getting out of the cave.

  Suddenly, there was a loud, sharp noise. The doors fell from their hinges and were falling toward us. Screams emanated as the situation suddenly worsened.

  We were squished by the giant, heavy doors in an instant.

  …

  There were a few concerns I had about haphazardly enforcing a visualization on the door.

  One was that I didn’t know what was on the other side. Two, I didn’t know if they swung open toward or away from us, or slid away from each other, or if it was raised or lowered. Maybe there was some drawbridge mechanism on the other side.

  Even if I could exert an infinitely growing force on the door, how could I predict the way it broke? Would I be able to react fast enough to prevent anyone from getting hurt by the falling debris?

  There’s also the fact that I have no idea what lies on the other side of the doors. If I knew, I’d feel more certain that I can imagine it opening.

  In short, it was simply too risky, and I didn’t want to be the cause of someone’s death because I thought, “fuck it, let’s just hope it goes well.”

  The room was still well-lit from the balls of light I had provided, illuminating the room. However, I felt they’d extinguish soon. It could be because my train of thought was about to shift onto investigating the door.

  I looked toward one of my glowing orbs and imagined it being put out. There were sounds of panic, even a shout, but nothing too serious.

  I stopped concentrating on the rest, and they disappeared. A split second later, someone conjured a flame, providing light. I heard some shouting, but it was not my concern. We’re safe now; they just needed to stay still while I investigated.

  I produced a ball of light, and instead of it shining outward in all directions, I focused it into a cone-shaped ray, acting similar to a flashlight, and pointed it toward the floor near the door. The reason for this was simple: I was looking for traces of the bottom of the door scraping against the floor.

  There were none, however, that told me little. I realized that if a door this big was constructed to swing, the thing scratching against the floor might pose a bigger risk than I imagined. Perhaps it wouldn’t open at all because of how much pressure it was exerting on the floor.

  I pointed my ball flashlight toward the bottom of the door and the floor itself to see if there was a gap. It was a little hard to see, even if I brought my head toward the floor, so I produced a sheet of paper and tried sliding it under the door.

  It stopped.

  I tried forcing it, but the sheeting simply bent upward. I repeated this on multiple sections of the door. No gaps. It was seamless.

  When I got up, my focus was on the gap between the double doors. It was small enough that I could barely fit a bit of my fingernail through the gap. I didn’t want to try peeking through the gap, just to potentially risk losing my eyes from something emerging through the gap.

  That might be paranoia talking. I simply saw no point in putting my face that close to the door.

  I made a long hum, frustrated that I didn’t find anything useful.

  At most, I proved the doesn’t swing open toward us.

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  Is there really nothing we can do? At least anything that won’t pose a serious risk to our lives?

  I looked at the paper drawing depicting someone pushing against the door with an absurdly large hand. Looking at it confused me more when this was supposedly a serious answer from Mr. Blonde.

  I pocketed the drawing and produced a different sheet of paper with the giant door in isometric view, with a large space behind it and the crowd of students near the front. I wanted to know if there was anything behind the door before committing to opening it. Then I moved to hand the sheet and clipboard to Mr. Blonde, only to see him engaged in conversation with Mr. Bleach.

  I waited for him to finish before handing him the paper with the isometric view of the large door, pointing to the space behind it as my way of telling him to draw anything relevant to our situation there.

  He took the clipboard and started drawing.

  I turned around, not wanting to make him uncomfortable while he exercised his artistic talents. People tend to be self-conscious about things they’re good at when being observed, making them perform worse than the talent they usually showcase.

  That’s when I noticed a majority of the students were looking at me, giving a range of expressions.

  Uh…

  The sight of all of their eyes on me was unnerving. I’ve gotten used to being the focus of audiences for public speaking to some extent, but that usually works if I know it’s coming. This happened out of nowhere.

  Although it was pointless for me to speak, I’ve never felt more nervous than I have in my previous life.

  Thankfully, the patient was there to divert their attention, speaking some words before moving their gaze away from me. I’ll need to thank that man for saving me from that situation.

  After a few minutes of idling, visualizing more potential constructs and applications of my power, Mr. Blonde finally finished and handed me a finished drawing. On the other side of the giant door, the Italian Gangster was waiting on the other side with a group of people around him in identical outfits. They weren’t anything like the school uniforms that every student I saw wore. It looked more like specialized clothing, perhaps a soldier or officer uniform.

  So, help is on the other side.

  I’m glad I held off on opening the door earlier. I would’ve accidentally killed more than the people in this room.

  Is there seriously nothing on our end that could be done to open the door? So we just go back? I mean, that underground room felt sufficient enough for us to weather out the storm.

  I heard some voices speaking. Students were looking at the door in puzzlement. Their expressions reminded me of how they looked when my classmates somehow saw the storm in the sky through the school’s walls. An expression that told me they sensed something on the other side of the giant grey door.

  Alarms rang in my head. I felt my heart beating faster as I fearfully anticipated whatever was on the other side of the door.

  The storm isn’t waiting for us, right?

  I looked around, gauging the reactions of every person I set my eyes on. There was a mix of astonishment, fear, and dread on their faces, but also happiness and relief. What’s going on?

  I looked to the teachers, and they looked composed as ever while staring at the door. Mr. Blonde and Mr. Bleach were smiling.

  Am I overreacting?

  It’s clear to me that everyone here was capable of sensing magical phenomena. Back at 4th period, everyone looked scared seeing the storm through the walls. Here, expressions were conflicting, but it mostly felt positive. Perhaps it was a shock that they’re witnessing something unbelievable, I just didn’t know what. My eyes settled on the door, unsure of what to make of everyone’s expressions.

  Wait… did the gap get wider?

  The gap between the double doors that was barely big enough to fit a fingernail through its crevice suddenly looked bigger, just enough to fit the tip of my pinkie through it.

  I stared intensely at the gap.

  There was no mistake; it was getting wider.

  The opening of the door was accompanied by an odd creaking noise, but it didn’t bother me. We were finally getting out of this cramped room!

  It opened all the way. Light from outside poured into the tiny room. The moment the doors stopped, everyone ran out, ignoring the shouts and commands of the line leaders. I ended up being pushed around and bumping into some students, with those bumping into me saying “Akoa” before continuing onward.

  So ‘Akoa’ means sorry, or apologies.

  Eventually, the room had emptied, and I was finally able to get a proper look at what was on the other side of the door.

  The doorway led into another tunnel, with the sky, trees, and clouds only being a short distance away. Above the tunnel floor was the Italian Gangster, floating above. I guessed he was startled by the sudden group bursting through the door and elevated himself on reflex. To the sides were the uniformed people Mr. Blonde had shown in his drawing. Now that I got a good look at them, their outfits seemed to be more than a uniform. It was tactical gear, meant to act as armor and hold whatever utilities they needed on the field.

  I walked past them slowly, not wanting to alert their combat senses. My intuition told me their clothes weren’t for show, but a symbol, a declaration of elite status.

  I caught up to the crowd that had gathered at the end of the tunnel. Everyone was looking up in the same direction toward the sky.

  The storm in the sky was still present.