A first-class room inside the dormitory was extraordinary. It was a privilege given only to individuals the military deed to have imnse potential.
The requirent to even be considered for one was an A-grade talent at minimum or had a talent that made him as valuable as those with such high grades. Those who possessed such a rank were either future legends in the making or already had skills that could change the tide of battle. Continue your adventure at My Virtual Library Empire
Raymond's sharp eyes flickered toward Arthur once again, reassessing him in a new light. There was sothing unreadable about the young man's posture, his gaze steady, unshaken.
'Impressive. But Donald is bound to break him...'
Without another word, Raymond handed the key to Donald, who took it with a nod before motioning for Arthur to follow.
Arthur remained silent as they walked through the long hallways of the dormitory. The floors were polished, reflecting the harsh white light of the overhead lamps. So soldiers passed by, so sparing Arthur curious glances, others not even acknowledging his presence.
Arriving at a heavy steel door, Donald stopped and inserted the key into the panel. With a chanical beep, the lock disengaged, and the door slid open with a soft hiss.
Donald stepped aside. "This will be your room."
Arthur stepped inside, his sharp gaze sweeping across the space.
"The building we're in is the dormitory," Donald continued. "This room is considered the best accommodation available. Only three other people have been assigned rooms of this caliber. You are now the fourth."
Arthur nodded in understanding. He didn't ask who the other three were. That was information he could gather later.
Donald gave him a small smirk. "I'll let you settle in. You can either rest or log into Armageddon—your choice. But tomorrow will be a busy day. Expect soone to co for you early in the morning. Get enough rest."
With that, Donald turned and exited the room, leaving Arthur standing alone in the entryway as the door slid shut behind him.
The silence was almost eerie.
Arthur took a slow breath and stepped forward, his footsteps echoing against the smooth flooring. The room was large, it had a long hallway that led into an open living space, furnished with modern decor.
A massive television screen was mounted against the far wall, flanked by black shelving. The sofas were plush.
The kitchen was an open design, seamlessly connected to the living area. Stainless steel appliances glead under soft, ambient lighting. A large fridge stood in the corner, stocked with supplies, while an assortnt of cooking equipnt rested neatly on the counters.
Anyone else would have marveled at such luxury.
Arthur, however, barely spared it a glance.
He knew better than to believe any of this was given freely. He was in the enemy's den, surrounded by people who didn't see him as a person, but as an asset. A tool.
And tools were only valued so long as they were useful.
Sinking into the sofa, Arthur exhaled slowly, resting his elbows on his knees. His fingers instinctively drumd against his leg, a habit ford from restless thinking.
He had to be careful. Every move he made from this point on had to be calculated. There was a 99% chance this room was being monitored. Caras, microphones, you na it.
The military wasn't stupid. They wouldn't bring him here and then let him roam free without supervision. They would obviously want to try to get any kind of additional information to use against that person.
Arthur leaned back, tilting his head to stare at the ceiling.
He had to find out where they took Charlotte.
His jaw clenched slightly. That was his priority. Everything else—the military's agenda, their gas, their hidden motives—ca second.
He would play along for now.
And when the ti ca—when he had everything he needed—he would make his move. And once that happens, nothing on the planet will stop him from eradicating every single person involved in that sche.
...
Arthur closed his eyes for a few minutes, before opening them and standing up from the sofa.
He then logged into Armageddon, and the familiar sensation wrapped around him. The scent of damp earth and leaves filled his lungs as he stood beneath the thick canopy of trees. He was back. And, as expected, Adam was still there.
The lieutenant hadn't moved far. He leaned casually against the base of a tree, arms crossed over his chest, one boot resting against the bark. He looked like he had been waiting, patient and confident, that Arthur would be back soon enough.
Arthur t his eyes, his own expression unreadable. Gone was the smirk, the playful amusent he often carried in Armageddon. He was different now—more aware, more cautious.
Adam noticed the change imdiately. A slow smile curled on his lips. "Ah, there it is. That look."
Arthur didn't respond.
Adam pushed himself off the tree, brushing off imaginary dust from his sleeve. "You're not as much of a mystery as you think, Fateless. Not anymore."
Arthur let out a short breath, neither amused nor irritated. He simply watched Adam with the patience of a hunter. "Alright," he said, his tone flat. "What do you want from ? I assu you already know what happened?"
Adam's smirk widened just a fraction. "Of course. We don't let things like this go unnoticed."
Arthur nodded, as if expecting that answer. "Then let's not waste ti. What do you want?"
Adam studied him, eyes flickering over his stance, his expression, the tension in his shoulders. He took his ti answering. "You agreed to work with us," he finally said. "But agreeing isn't enough. Trust isn't built on words."
Arthur raised an eyebrow. "Trust?"
Adam chuckled. "Well, trust might be too strong of a word. But let's say… credibility. You'll need to prove that you're not just playing along, but that you're serious."
Arthur's gaze darkened slightly. "And how do I do that?"
Adam spread his arms slightly, as if presenting the obvious. "Simple."
Reviews
All reviews (0)