NOVEL NEXT Chapter 74: The guest arrived
As Nyxander stepped inside, the familiar din of a bustling eatery greeted him. The air was thick with the scent of roasted meats, spiced broths, and freshly baked bread. Conversations overlapped, mingling with the clinking of cups and the occasional burst of laughter.
Yet, as they strided further in, an undeniable shift occurred. One by one, patrons turned their heads, their chatter gradually dimming to a whisper. Eyes lingered on them, expressions ranging from curiosity to mild apprehension.
Nyxander remained unfazed, his steps steady as he approached a table with five empty chairs. Behind him, Kal, Bako, and Bili followed, their movements less fluid, their heads swiveling cautiously as beads of sweat formed on their brows.
Nyxander pulled out a chair and sat down, radiating an air of absolute composure. The others quickly followed suit, though their backs remained slightly stiff, their instincts on high alert.
A man with a scarf draped around his shoulders, presumably a server, approached them, balancing a tray under his left arm. "What can I get you?" he asked, his tone polite but wary.
Nyxander leaned back slightly. "Serve us three plates of your best meal."
Kal blinked in confusion. "But Boss, we are four."
Nyxander's gaze remained fixed ahead. "Don't worry. I'm not hungry." His voice was firm, leaving no room for further discussion. He then lifted his head slightly, eyes meeting the server's. "Do as I said."
The server hesitated for a second before nodding. "Alright." With that, he turned and walked away, disappearing into the kitchen.
Meanwhile, the weight of the other patrons' stares still lingered around them like an unspoken challenge. Conversations, though resuming, were now tinged with an undercurrent of tension, as if the entire room were bracing for something yet to unfold.
Nyxander, ever composed, leaned back in his chair, his fingers lightly tapping against the table. A faint smirk ghosted his lips. He knew their presence had disrupted the usual rhythm of the Mountain Astro Station, and soon, the real game would begin.
The once hushed restaurant gradually returned to its usual lively rhythm, the clatter of cups and bowls merging with the murmur of countless overlapping conversations. The aroma of freshly spiced broth intertwined with the sharp scent of wine, creating a thick atmosphere of indulgence.
A moment later, the server returned, balancing a large wooden tray with the practiced ease of one accustomed to a life of swift service. Upon it rested three steaming bowls of rich meat soup, the surface glistening with a thin layer of fragrant oil, and three filled cups of deep red wine. He moved with care, placing each portion in front of Kal, then Bili and Bako, before retreating into the sea of movement around them.
Without hesitation, Bili and Bako dug into their meals, their hunger overpowering any sense of caution. Kal followed suit, scooping a spoonful of tender meat from his bowl, but Nyxander, as usual, merely observed. His sharp gaze drifted lazily over his subordinates before something in the surrounding air caught his attention, an exchange of words from a nearby table.
Across to his right, five men sat huddled around a table, their conversation carrying the weight of unspoken tension.
"Seems like something big is going on. The cost of goods has shot up, and it's all because of the trouble with travel between the Celestial Astro Headquarters and the North Astro Station," one of the men muttered, his voice laced with frustration.
"Yeah, I heard rumors that the headquarters is tangled in some sort of conspiracy. No one knows for sure what's happening," another added, shaking his head.
"And in just four weeks, we'll all be forced down to the headquarters. This place won't be able to support us anymore," the first man continued, his words carrying an uneasy finality.
"Speaking of that, the North Astro Station is about to get extremely busy… dealing with something only their officials seem to understand," another chimed in, his voice dropping to a near whisper.
Nyxander listened in silence, his interest piqued. He enjoyed gathering knowledge this way, through the whispers of the unsuspecting. But just as he settled into his quiet amusement, his instincts flared like a storm warning.
In a split second, he tilted his head ever so slightly to the left. A thick, rectangular black shield, its surface carved with intricate molten iron designs, came hurtling past his right ear, missing him by mere inches. The air whistled sharply as the shield continued its deadly trajectory, slicing through the space just above Nyxander's right shoulder and heading straight toward Kal.
Kal, who had just lifted his spoonful of meat soup to his mouth, froze as his instincts screamed at him. The spoon clattered from his grip, but in the same moment, his right hand shot out. With an iron-clad grip, he caught the incoming shield midair. The force behind the throw sent tremors through his arm, his muscles tightening under the impact.
Rather than absorbing the full brunt of the blow, Kal redirected its momentum, angling the shield downward. With a loud CRACK, it crashed into the wooden table across from them, splintering it into a mess of shattered planks. The shield, now partially embedded in the stone floor, stood upright like a gravestone marking the sudden shift in atmosphere.
Nyxander rose to his feet, his movement slow, deliberate, like a beast uncoiling itself before the hunt. His sharp eyes flickered toward the direction from which the attack had come.
The restaurant, which just moments ago had been alive with chatter and laughter, fell into an eerie, suffocating silence. Conversations died mid-sentence, hands gripping cups froze in mid-air, and the once lively space became a vacuum of sheer tension.
A heavy presence descended upon the room, thick as storm clouds before a downpour. Every pair of eyes turned toward the unfolding scene, their expressions a mixture of fear, anticipation, and disbelief.
Nyxander did not speak. He merely stood there, an imposing figure against the stunned backdrop. The air around him pulsed with something intriguing.