X had been pacing back and forth in front of Nioh's room for five days now, his frustration mounting with every step. Torn between the urge to tear the door open and the necessity of respecting Nioh's instructions not to disturb him, he felt his composure slipping. His brother's reckless actions had already landed him in a passive position within his delicate dynamic with the young master, and now this interminable silence was fraying his nerves.
He had been trying to leverage the secret of Nioh's origins to maintain a semblance of control, a precarious ascendance over the boy. But the events of the past few days had made it glaringly obvious—Nioh was an uncontrollable wild card. That attack during the confrontation with Cryo had shaken him to his core. The Absolute Command of the Absolute Monarch. The implications of that power sent a chill through him. Who was this boy, really?
As much as he wanted answers, X's imdiate concern was Nioh's survival. Waves of energy had periodically radiated from the room, but no sound had accompanied them for five long days. He gritted his teeth, silently praying that the cocky devil hadn't killed himself attempting to fuse the biocores.
Marsai approached from down the hall, his expression grim. "Still no sign?"
X shook his head.
"If there's no sign by the end of the day, I'll walk in myself," Marsai said, his tone leaving no room for argunt. "But there's sothing else. News has co in—the heir has been severely injured. He might not make it. We've been ordered to bring the young master back imdiately."
X's eyes widened. "What happened?"
"I haven't been briefed on the details," Marsai replied. "But if we want to arrive in ti, we need to move quickly."
X hesitated, his conflicted emotions bubbling to the surface. After a mont, he sighed and rapped on the door delicately. Knock. Knock.
For a few heartbeats, there was silence. Then, faintly, the sound of footsteps approached from the other side.
The door creaked open, revealing Nioh standing in the fra, his figure striking and otherworldly. His pale skin glistened with moisture, as though he had just erged from a deep, turbulent abyss. His damp hair clung to his forehead, framing eyes that now shimred with an intense golden hue, radiant yet unnervingly cold. His veins, once visibly purple from the fusion process, had receded beneath the surface, leaving faint silver traces that pulsed faintly along his forearms and neck like living circuits.
His physique seed to have undergone a transformation; lean but visibly toned, his muscles carried a tensile strength that felt almost alien. A subtle, golden glow outlined his form, not bright enough to illuminate the dim hallway but enough to make him seem ethereal. Steam rose faintly from his skin, the lingering remnants of energy release, giving the air around him a charged, electric feel.
Nioh's expression was calm, bordering on indifference, though a sharp edge lingered in his gaze. His entire deanor radiated power and control, as if the room he stepped out from had been conquered, and left entirely at his rcy.
Nioh stood there, his damp hair clinging to his forehead, droplets of water trailing down his face. His shirt clung to his fra, still wet, as though he had just stepped out of a storm. His golden eyes burned with an intensity that made X take a step back.
"Yes? What is it?" Nioh asked, his voice calm but laced with annoyance as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.
X hesitated, his mind racing to find the right words. "We've been ordered to bring you back at once."
For a fleeting mont, an emotion flickered in Nioh's eyes—curiosity, perhaps calculation. Then he smirked. "Let's depart in an hour. Marsai, make the arrangents."
"Yes, young master," Marsai replied with a slight bow.
Nioh turned his gaze back to X. "Sir X, you stay," he said, stepping aside and opening the door wider to invite him in.
X followed him in, closing the door behind them. His eyes darted around, landing on the open tal case that had once housed the biocores. His face darkened.
"Young master," X began, his voice tense, "the plan has been derailed. The news of the heir's death has surfaced, and the tiline has been moved forward."
Nioh tilted his head, a faint look of amusent playing on his lips. "I will be introduced at a funeral? My father truly doesn't know the aning of restraint."
"The Monarch can endure," X said, his tone steady despite the implications.
"That's good." Nioh turned his back to X, gesturing to the zipper of his intricate attire. "Help with my clothing."
X stepped forward to assist, but as he drew closer, his eyes locked onto Nioh's bare back. Golden runes etched along his spine, glowing faintly as though alive, pulsing with energy. X froze in place, his voice trembling.
"You fused all two biocores? Impossible. You awakened just two months ago! How can your core be stable enough to handle two fusions?" He paused, his mind racing through the calculations. "Even if you lied about your awakening date, to handle two biocores, you would need at least a 75% synchronization rate... That would an..." His voice trailed off as realization dawned. His troubled gaze t Nioh's knowing smirk.
Nioh gave him a playful wink and turned away, leaving X rooted to the spot, stunned into silence.
Nioh made his way to the backyard, his steps deliberate as he followed the winding garden path. Eventually, he arrived at a small, flat clearing adorned with flowers and humble headstones—a quiet burial ground for Granny Leah and the children she had cared for at the orphanage.
He stood before the graves as he did every day since arriving at this external residence. His golden eyes softened as he gazed at the familiar tombstones.
"Granny," he said softly, "I ca to say goodbye. Soon, I'll have the power to avenge you."
He knelt before her grave, his fingers brushing against the cool stone. "Rest in peace and wait for my good news."
The silence lingered as he relived cherished mories of his childhood under Granny Leah's care.
"Young master! We are ready," X's voice interrupted, breaking the reverie.
Nioh rose to his feet, tying his hair into a high bun as he turned. His expression had shifted—now sharp and purposeful, a sinister grin curling his lips. "Let's go et the Glevs."
Marsai waited at the takeoff zone, her presence as calm and composed as ever. She draped a pristine white fur cape over Nioh's shoulders, the regal garnt an unmistakable symbol of his status.
"Everything is ready, young master," she said, leading him to the ship.
The vessel, while civilian-grade, was luxurious by any standard. Its leather-clad interior exuded comfort and refinent. Nioh settled into a plush seat, accepting the delicate porcelain cup of tea offered to him as the ship's engines humd to life.
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