"Oh Hunter...what will you try to reach for now?"
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The night was unequivocally calm, and had passed with a surprising quiet.
He saw a Galewing landing far from his location upon one of the landing pads below.
He sighed, “That's another one. I wonder when those two will arrive..."
He had his hands inside his pockets, thinking of that scientist and his attendant for that operation in Albion.
He wore an outfit that could be deemed as all black, the most unique aspect being the long coat he wore, the bird mask akin to a plague doctor, and the top hat. He was eccentric in terms of this fashion choice of his, but it was something he could call his own.
His gaze glanced upon the panoramic view of the outside world from his office’s window, from a high point. Nestled in a lonely part of the world was where his location was. If the building he was in could be described with tones, it would be technological, sleek, fantastical, yet it wasn't militaristic. This was not some military base, it was something more.
His head then turned towards the person behind him, the one he was truly familiar with.
“You know, I didn't actually think you're going to see me again.”
That voice bore a hint of interest, of slight surprise. Indeed, it was expected. He was chosen decades ago, and has since retired from that position. Ever since the clearing of that Veil in Kharnam when they first met, and ever since his story was over, he had been freed of that grander purpose, and forged a legacy by himself without guidance.
“You could've talked to anyone else, yet you chose me, during this time of all places,” he said, leaning his body against his desk with arms crossed as he faced her, “So answer me this, why are you here?”
With any other tone, he could be deemed as someone that was upset, or angry. But he wasn't. He was just plainly curious, perhaps a bit annoyed or bewildered, but mostly curious.
“Is it not allowed for me to visit a close friend of mine?” The person he spoke to adorned that tone of wisdom, of someone far older. She was called by many names, but mainly the Sage would suffice. She smiled at him as she said those words.
He raised an eyebrow, or rather his mask expressed something of equivalent. “...Sophia, I don't think we could be deemed as close friends, we rarely spend time together nowadays.”
“How sad,” she teased, “You may deem me as a mere acquaintance, or just a distant partner now, but I do have a history with your family. Hence my words, Nigel.”
He sighed, “Yes, I’m aware of that. But why are you here?”
Sophia’s smile softened, her gaze carrying an unreadable depth that Nigel had always found both frustrating and intriguing. She took a slow step forward, the hem of her clothes trailing along the polished floor, whispering as it moved.
“I would like to request for your patience, Nigel,” she murmured, tilting her head. “I’m trying my best in cushioning the words I’m about to say, there's always a purpose to my cryptic words.”
Nigel’s eyes narrowed behind the beak of his mask, arms still folded across his chest. “I’m not one for your games, Sophia. Not anymore,” he said, turning his gaze to the room around them, “I’ve moved away from that life, of unfolding the story. If you want my help, say it plainly.”
Sophia studied him for a moment, her expression turning almost sombre. “War is coming. I came to you because I trust you can sense it as well…even if you’ve tried to ignore it. The Veil Storm is only the beginning.”
Nigel managed to draw interest, hearing those words, “And my purpose here is what?”
She smiled again, an enigmatic warmth flickering in her eyes. “This isn’t about purpose, Nigel. It’s about necessity.”
That word hung heavy in the air between them. Nigel could feel the weight of it pressing on his chest, stirring an ache he thought he’d buried long ago. That guilt, of necessity, of something that must be done, to be uncovered.
His fingers clenched slightly at his sides, and he took a step away from the desk, pacing toward the window. Outside, the distant Galewing had stilled, its passengers disembarking, small figures against the vastness of the landscape.
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Sophia’s voice floated behind him, soft yet insistent. “Currently, there is someone I need you to help in bringing down. Someone that would be of great threat to one of your children, and more. Even without any sort of grander purpose, this should be something you want to know.”
Nigel stilled, his posture tense. “Elaborate.”
“That someone is an Apostle,” Sophia replied, her tone becoming much more serious, “They’re not something the ordinary forces can handle. No armies, no strategies will be enough. This requires a…particular touch.”
Nigel turned to face her, studying her with a wary expression. “My strength, you mean.”
“Yes,” she answered simply. “Your strength, your knowledge, your willingness to step into the unknown. The forces at play are complex, and if left alone, who knows what will happen?”
For a long moment, Nigel said nothing. His gaze flicked back to the Galewing, then to the quiet solitude of this bastion he’s now deeply ingrained in. He had earned this position as a commander, the Head of Operations in Aegis. Yet there was something in her words that resonated, like an echo from the past, reminding him of who he had once been.
“So, let’s say I agree,” he said slowly, feeling the weight of each word. “What exactly do you need me to do?”
Sophia’s eyes gleamed, a small, satisfied smile playing at the corner of her lips. “For now, all I ask is that you be present. Go to that Veil your son and his friends have been sent to, watch, wait. When it begins, you will know what to do. You always have.”
He shook his head, a bitter smile hidden behind his mask. “You’re asking me to walk into a storm with nothing but a cryptic promise that I’ll ‘know what to do.’ You really haven’t changed, Sophia.”
“Perhaps not,” she replied, unruffled. “But I have always trusted your instincts, Nigel. And so, I ask for that trust in return.”
The silence stretched between them, filled with the ghosts of old alliances and faded promises. He could sense that this wasn’t just another task—it was a calling. At least he had the experience, he wouldn't be so prepared to face it if he didn't know her the first time.
Finally, he exhaled, the sound soft and resigned. “Very well. I trust Adrian to be able to hold on at least, with that gift I gave him. I can't guarantee my punctual arrival, but I’ll try.”
Sophia’s smile was faint, almost wistful. “I know it isn’t easy to ask this of you, especially after all you’ve done to move on, but thank you. I shall warn you however that this is not just another battle, it's something more."
He gave a low chuckle, glancing out the window one last time. "Yeah, I had my suspicions. It's to protect that girl too, isn't it?"
She inclined her head, acknowledging his point with a small, amused nod. “Perhaps. But do try to not pry into a Sage's secrets again, won’t you?”
Nigel didn’t reply. Instead, he let the silence answer for him—a silence thick with acceptance, a faint bitterness, and perhaps, just the faintest hint of anticipation. He didn't need to turn around again, he knew she was gone. But nonetheless, those words resonated within him.
Then, the soft whirring of an automatic door sliced through the silence. A blonde woman entered, her light blue eyes sharp and observant. She wore a tailored suit, her movements precise and controlled, yet each step was firm enough to announce her presence.
Nigel glanced over his shoulder, his gaze settling on her as she halted just a few feet from his desk. She was the Head of Administration in Aegis and an old ally, a close friend of his, almost like a sibling.
“Here’s the most recent report,” she said, her voice crisp, professional. “So far, 25% of the lower-priority Veils have been targeted for clearing by the students we’ve brought into the fray.”
She extended a sleek, holographic data-slate toward him, and he crossed the room to take it from her hands. The soft blue glow of the hologram illuminated his mask, casting faint, ethereal reflections on its dark surface as he scanned through the data.
For a moment, the room was filled only with the quiet hum of the device as Nigel reviewed the numbers, percentages, status updates—mundane details, perhaps, but each one a reminder of the delicate balance they were trying to maintain.
Finally, he looked up, his eyes unreadable behind the mask. “Annie,” he murmured, a softness in his tone that caught her off-guard, “do you ever think we’ll experience something like our old life again?”
She blinked, momentarily surprised by the question. Her polished demeanour faltered for just a second, the faintest flicker of something more vulnerable appearing in her gaze before she quickly masked it.
“Our old life,” she echoed, a faint, almost wistful smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “I try not to think about it too often. But…sometimes, yes. I wonder if we’re just waiting for history to repeat itself.”
He held her gaze, a silent understanding passing between them. The data-slate still hovered between them, but now it seemed almost trivial, an afterthought against the backdrop of their shared memories—the battles, the strange alliances, the ever-present spectre of purpose that had once driven them.
“Do you think that’s what this is?” he asked, glancing at the report as if it might hold some answer. “The Veil clearings, the possibility of an encroaching war. Are we just trying to recreate something we can’t let go of?”
Annie’s smile faded, replaced by a look of quiet resignation. “Perhaps. Or maybe we’re just…hedging our bets. Making sure we’re ready, in case the past comes knocking again.”
Nigel studied her, the quiet strength in her posture, the faint tension in her expression. She had changed, just as he had, but some part of her was still that same person he’d known from before. Still holding the same flame, even if it had dimmed.
He looked down at the data-slate once more, scrolling absently through the reports, as if they could somehow tell him what lay ahead. He felt the weight of Sophia’s words still lingering in his mind, echoing against this new question.
“We can’t live in the past, Nigel,” Annie said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “But…if the past finds us again, we’ll be ready this time. Won’t we?”
He nodded slowly, the smallest movement, but filled with a heavy resolve. “Yes. We will.”
And as he handed the data-slate back to her, a sense of calm settled over him—an understanding that, no matter what came next, no matter what they were trying to reach for, they shall be prepared to face it.