Trinity led Lumian and Shirley to the apartnt room provided by the Vanguard for him. She swipes a keycard against a sleek panel beside the door, and with a faint hum, the entrance slides open. She gestures for Lumian and Shirley to step inside, her movents were sharp and efficient, betraying none of the irritation and obvious anxiousness simring beneath her composed exterior.
Lumian crossed the threshold first, his worn shoes echoed faintly on the polished floor, and stopped short as his eyes took in the space before him. He hadn’t known what to expect, but it certainly wasn’t this.
The room or rather, the suite was a vision of luxury he’d only glimpsed in the flickering fras of old movies or the worn pages of magazines. It was a far cry from the damp, cluttered Lair he’d called ho.
The apartnt sprawled before him was fully furnished with sleek, modern pieces that gleam under soft, recessed lighting. A plush gray sofa sits against one wall, while a low glass table reflected the ambient glow.
The floor was a smooth, dark hardwood, warm beneath his feet, and the air carried a faint, clean scent like citrus and steel. But it was the window that truly captured his attention: a massive pane of glass stretching from floor to ceiling, framing a glittering expanse of the city beyond.
It was a view that speaks of power, of possibility, and for a mont, Lumian felt sothing stir in his chest, a hunger he had long suppressed.
He grins, a slow, lazy curve of his lips, and drops into one of the chairs with a theatrical flourish. The cushion molds to his fra, cradling him in a way that’s almost absurdly comfortable, and he lets out a low, appreciative hum.
Across the room, Trinity watched him, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. Her jaw is set, teeth gritted, and her eyes narrow as if she’s fighting so internal battle.
With a flick of her wrist, she tosses a keycard toward him, not the one she’d used to open the door, but another, its surface was engraved with a faint, iridescent pattern. Lumian snatches it from the air with a casual grace, turning it over in his fingers as he studies it.
"This is yours," Trinity says, her voice clipped. "It’ll get you into most of the Vanguard Tower’s facilities. Not the restricted zones, obviously those are off-limits until you’ve earned the clearance. Don’t lose it."
Lumian tilts his head, still examining the card.
"You’ll get your Hero ID tomorrow," she replies, her tone softening slightly, though it’s clear she’s forcing the patience. "Your rank will be on it. Just a formality, really. After what you showed earlier..." She pauses, her lips pressing into a thin line as if the words taste bitter. "You’re already on par with so of our top-tier heroes. Maybe even beyond."
He raises an eyebrow, leaning back in the chair with an air of nonchalance that seems to grate on her. "High praise."
"Don’t get used to it," she snaps. "Rest up. Tomorrow’s a long day. Most of it will be you giving a full report on what happened when you disappeared. Every detail. No holding back."
Before Lumian could respond, Shirley stepped forward, her fra bristling with indignation. "My master reports to no one," she says, her voice sharp and unwavering. "No one stands above him."
Trinity’s gaze shifts to Shirley, cold and unyielding. "Your ’master’ is a hero of Vanguard now. He’ll follow protocol, just like the rest of us. That’s how this works."
Shirley opens her mouth to retort, her cheeks flushing with defiance, but Lumian raises a hand, silencing her. He ets Trinity’s stare, his expression calm but edged with sothing unreadable. "I’ve heard everything you’ve said," he tells her. "I’ll think about it."
Trinity blinks, caught off guard. ’Think about it?’ she thinks, her irritation flaring. ’How arrogant. Who does this bastard think he is?’ Her fingers twitch at her sides, but she keeps her face neutral, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a reaction.
As if sensing her thoughts, Lumian’s lips quirk into a smirk. "One more question," he says, his tone deceptively light.
She resists the urge to roll her eyes. "Go ahead."
He gestures vaguely around the room, his gaze lingering on the window, the furniture, the sheer opulence of it all. "Why this? A place like this, prepared for on such short notice. Not every new hero gets treatnt like this, I’m guessing. So why ?"
Trinity’s frown deepens, and for a mont, she hesitates. "There’s no reason," she says finally, her voice flat. "The Vanguard takes care of its heroes. That’s all there is to it."
She turns on her heel, her movents stiff with barely concealed frustration. "I’ll see you tomorrow," she calls over her shoulder as she strides toward the door. It slides shut behind her with a soft hiss, but Lumian felt that if it had been a traditional door, she’d have slamd it hard enough to rattle the fra.
He leaned back, exhaling slowly. "I’ll deal with her tomorrow," he mutters, more to himself than to Shirley. "Right now, I just need to wash off the day and sleep. The fight with Nodens took more out of than I’d like to admit."
Standing, he shrugs off his jacket, then his shirt, letting them fall to the floor in a careless heap. His pants followed, and within monts, he was standing stark naked in the middle of the room, utterly unselfconscious. Shirley’s face flushed a deep crimson, and she spun around, her hands flying up to shield her eyes.
Lumian notices and chuckles, a low, rumbling sound. "You should freshen up too," he says as he strides toward the bathroom. "Get the day’s gri off. It’ll do you good."
"Y-yes, Master," Shirley stamrs, still facing away. "I’ll... I’ll go after you."
The bathroom is as lavish as the rest of the suite, with a rainfall shower enclosed in glass and tiles that gleam like polished obsidian. Lumian steps under the stream, letting the hot water wash over him, washing away the sweat and blood of the day. His mind, though, refuses to quiet.
Nodens lood large in his thoughts, the creature’s inhuman presence, its guttural voice rasping the word "Herald." Not human, but Herald. The distinction gnaws at him. If Nodens was a herald, and so was he. Then whose god’s herald was he? And why had it sought him out?
His thoughts drifted to Trinity. Her hostility had been imdiate, almost personal, and it also seed like she’d known about Nodens—or at least seed to.
That report she wanted... Was it ignorance driving her, or calculation? Did she truly not know what had happened, or was she testing him, trying to gauge how much ’he’ knew? Either way, tomorrow would reveal more. He’d make sure of it.
Finishing his shower, he steps out, not bothering with a towel. Water drips from his hair, trailing down his back as he walks back into the main room, still naked. Shirley, waited by the bathroom door, let out a small yelp and bolted inside, clutching a towel that was far too small to cover her properly. Lumian smirks but says nothing, crossing to the window instead.
The city sprawls before him, a living painting of light and shadow. He stood there, bare and unashad, taking it in. "Soon," he murmurs, his voice low and resolute, "all of this will be mine. But first, I’ll reshape it. Mold it into sothing worthy."
He drags a chair over, its legs scraping faintly against the floor, and sinks into it. The view held him, its endless possibilities lulling his mind toward sleep. His eyelids grew heavy, his breathing slowed , and just as the darkness began to claim him, he felt it—a moist, wet warmth against his lower body.
Reviews
All reviews (0)