NOVEL NEXT Chapter 45: North Celestial Station
Lumina strode ahead, her steps quick and decisive. Only the crimson which lingered upon her cheeks gave away her otherwise calm nature, but the turmoil within her still roiled on. Nyxander followed along behind, quickly moving his own pace up to hers as he continued to torment her mercilessly. She was determined, though, and soon she found herself at the edge of the glade where her underlings waited for her return.
The group, in tune with the stoic demeanor of their leader, was quite obviously taken aback by her being out of character. They betrayed concern across their faces as they hastened to her, their voices latticing in a din of questions: "Young miss, is something wrong?" "Did you find the cause of the disturbance?" "Are you injured? Did something happen?" "Why is your face red?"
Their eyes searched all over her, as if she may show signs of assault or injury. It was enough for her to reassert her commanding presence and dispel their curiosities to stop further embarrassing her, and with a sharp humming noise, she cleared her throat. Sidestepping, she revealed Nyxander behind her.
They fell silent as the sudden sight of him arrested them. Their gazes fastened on him, appreciation fluttering across their eyes. His goodly presence struck theirs, tanged with envy. Nyxander shifted reflexively at the burning intent of their gazes meeting his, then gave a quick, sharp smile, raising his hand in greeting as he walked toward them.
"Hello, I'm Nyxander-your boss's fiancé," he said brazenly, extending his hand for an unwanted handshake with each of them.
The cool demeanor of Lumina broke, and her eyes widened. "Stop that, or I'll leave you behind. And stop using the word 'fiancé'," she ordered icily, cold as the winter breeze that cut all his drama.
Turning to her subordinates, she straightened her posture, her voice regaining its icy authority. "Everyone, prepare yourselves. We're resuming our journey."
At her command, the group promptly returned to their seats inside the Aether Glide. Nyxander found a seat near the edge of the bench opposite Lumina. He sat casually, his elbows resting on his knees, his chin propped against his hands, and his piercing gaze fixed unwaveringly on her.
She felt the weight of his stare and her composure slipped, looking away to find distraction in the surroundings of the vehicle. The soft humming of the Aether Glide reached her ears as it started to move, its skis barely touching the ground while it carried them westward, away from the Nihilith clan.
Meanwhile, on a mountain not far away from the scene, Vacuros stood quiet, his piercing gaze following the Aether Glide until it vanished on the horizon. Taking a deep breath, he called upon the skill he had mastered through weeks of painful practice.
"Lexis Severance: Void Disruption," he growled, his voice low and grave.
The space around him seemed to ripple, fracturing like a shattered mirror as he sliced through the space surrounding him, severing the delicate threads that wove the fabric of the void. Torn fabric of the void around him shifted and parted, rendering him invisible. Thus invisible, he started running, his feet silent in the disrupted space. There was a limit to the technique-eight hours-but that would do for now.
Inside the Aether Glide, Nyxander's eyes strayed for a moment as a soft noise beside him drew his attention. He turned to the passenger beside him, a young man whose virtual system panel had just appeared, glowing softly in the confined space.
[Name: Beorn – Vassal of the Goddess of Water]
Race: Celestial Race – Immortal
Age: 19 years
Stage: Ascendant Realm
[Celestial Core: Immortal Core (20/45) ↓20]
[Bloodline: XXXX]
[Weapon: Sword (Goddess of Water Artifact: Bestowed to her vassal)]
[Techniques: Aqua Compression Blade]
Nyxander's eyes narrowed slightly as he remembered how Lumina had told him these system panels were visible only to their users. He tried to act as if nothing was out of the ordinary, peering sideways to view the glowing text so as not to arouse Beorn's suspicion.
Beorn noticed Nyxander looking his way and smiled. "Hi, my name is Beorn," he said with a warm nod.
"My name is Zion," Nyxander said, cool and smooth. He had decided he would continue to use the alias he'd first given to Lumina. He thought change would bring suspicion, and the little he knew of the Celestial Race and how they might interlink with the system panels meant he chose to keep his real identity concealed.
Nyxander's gaze swirled through the dim interior of the Aether Glide, tracing the smooth, metallic contours of the walls. The soft hum of machinery mixed with the whispers of the wind outside. Then, in a moment, there was a voice in his mind-a telepathic whisper so keen it felt like a thread stitched directly into his thoughts.
"Master Wild," came the deep, mechanical tone of Nullpoint, the sentient suit interwoven within the very essence of Nyxander. It was ever there, both a friend and an overstanding shadow.
The thoughts of Nyxander sharpened. "What's wrong, Nullpoint?" he returned, speaking mentally with a tone of calm curiosity.
"It's a reminder, Master," Nullpoint returned, the words cutting through the mental silence like the edge of a blade. "Your essentia energy is leaking, and it's beginning to link with nearby systems."
Nyxander blinked, grasping the implication. "Ah, right. Insulate every bit of energy from linking," he ordered with firm mental tone, yet steady.
With quick precision, Nullpoint did so. A subtle shift coursed through Nyxander's being: a faint tightening of invisible threads as the essentia energy was locked down. What did surprise Nyxander, though, was that Beorn's glowing virtual panel, which had been forced on earlier, flickered once before shutting off abruptly.
Beorn's eyes widened in confusion. "Hmm," he murmured-a low sound of puzzlement escaped his throat. "Why is it acting strangely today?" His brows furrowed, but after a moment, he dismissed the anomaly with a casual shrug.
Nyxander's gaze fell away, his head dropping slightly as he thought once more about Nullpoint. "Seal off 30% of my strength," he ordered silently. In the telepathic plane, his voice was measured in authority, like a king doled out edicts from a throne of darkness.
"As you will, Master," Nullpoint said as it always had, its tone unchanged. Nyxander felt the shift at once: a subtle suppression, like a weight laid on his core. His strength, so wild and great, was now confined, hidden deep beneath strata of control.
The Aether Glide hummed onward, the landscape outside turning as they came upon an awesome sight: a great hill whose slopes were rugged and imposing, carved by the relentless hand of time. The vehicle then swerved sharply, tracing a wide arc around the base of the hill.
Moments later, as the hill faded behind them, a towering wall emerged, stretching endlessly across the horizon like a sentinel guarding an ancient secret. Its surface shimmered faintly, betraying the use of rare and resilient materials. In its center stood an enormous gate, its design intricate yet unyielding, a masterpiece of both artistry and defense.
Beyond the wall, another huge hill appeared, towering over its front counterpart. The wall seemed to fit just right between the two hills, as if nature had conspired to protect it. The sight of the rough hills contrasting with the precision of the architecture of the wall was a view to see.
As Aether Glide approached closer, words of bold, gold luster little by little condensed above the gate. Glimmering in the sunset, it marked identity and strength:
'North Celestial Station.'
The title pulsed with vigor as if the soil knew its overlord. The passengers within the Aether Glide stared straight ahead, each lost in silent contemplation as they journeyed home after a long adventure.
The Aether Glide began to slow, its hum softening as it neared the towering gate. The gate responded like a watchful guardian, groaning open with deliberate grace. It was as if a father extended his arms to welcome his child home, the creaking hinges echoing a solemn embrace. The Aether Glide glided forward with measured purpose, passing through the monumental threshold and into the embrace of the station's inner sanctum.
Not far from the gate, a large structure rose to greet them,a building of stoic design, its silhouette carved against the backdrop of the waning sun. The Aether Glide advanced toward it, finally halting within a designated bay. Its skis descended slowly, allowing the vehicle to settle from its levitation, the motion a gentle exhale after a long journey.
With a soft hiss, the door slid open, inviting the passengers to step out. Lumina moved with her usual composed grace, her every step commanding respect. Nyxander stayed close by her side, his stride casual yet vigilant, his gaze flicking around the station's interior with curious wonder.
As they exited the Aether Glide, another team came into view, emerging from a similar vehicle on the opposite side of the bay. The air grew taut as the two groups faced one another. At the helm of the approaching team stood a young man, his stature commanding and his presence sharp as a blade. His gaze fell upon Lumina, lingering for a moment before shifting to Nyxander, scrutinizing him with a searing intensity.
For a fleeting moment, the air between the two leaders crackled with unspoken tension. The young man's eyes burned with a silent fury, though his demeanor remained composed, the rage beneath his calm exterior like molten lava just beneath the crust.
Lumina's expression remained unchanged, her gaze as cold and unyielding as winter's first frost. She met his glare head-on, her demeanor imperious and unmoving, a fortress against the storm of emotion swirling in his eyes.
Nyxander, unaware of the history or emotions playing out before him, stood in the middle of it all, swiveling his gaze between the two leaders and their teams. His eyes darted from face to face, searching for answers in their expressions, but all he found was tension so thick it could suffocate the air itself. He frowned slightly, his curiosity piqued but his understanding limited, leaving him adrift in a sea of unspoken history.