The knocking on the door intensified as Klint rolled out of bed, still groggy and asleep. Fortunately, his sleep had been rather peaceful and free of the classic dreams that tormented him every night.
As soon as he opened the door he found Arte in front of him, holding his white card high in his hand.
Without speaking, Arte cocked his head in agreement. To then head towards the sliding door that led to the corridor. Klint smiled as he entered the bathroom. His reaction was almost identical to Jeanne's, she had never seen something so luxurious.
He stopped in front of the sink carved into the block of white stone and decorated with some golden reflections set in the material. The silver metal of the faucet lit up under the soft artificial light from the ceiling. Klint turned on the water and took off his shirt, his build was reflected in the mirror and Klint observed himself for a few minutes. His musculature was definitely above average for such a young boy but the most disturbing detail was the enormous number of scars on his back and abdomen. They were thick and darker than his pale skin, the largest extending from his sternum to his elbow, tapering towards his forearm. They weren't always present and Klint knew it, that's why he couldn't understand their existence, when he had used the frequency he could be sure he hadn't seen them and he was sure that the others hadn't noticed either. After washing himself with cold water he felt his face without his glasses.
He didn't like his face; in his opinion, there was something sinister about it, and its sharp features didn't help to change his opinion.
He picked up the black card from his trouser pocket and sprinted out of the room, noticing Jeanne and Arte on his right, who had continued to wait for him.
Klint didn't respond, just smiled and raised his hand, smiling back.
The two walked along the corridor completely illuminated by sunlight, unlike those in which he had been, the corridor of the dormitory had windows, being at a lower level.
The black card showed Klint the path, as he passed bluish lights lit up on the floor, making him understand which path to follow.
He replied smiling. Lance Klint needed little sleep to be operational in the morning, but that didn't save him from being an uncoordinated automaton after waking up.
Jeanne smiled noticing his hair, he had done everything he could to fix it but nothing, it was tangled everywhere but it still suited him.
She joked, smiling so much that she half-closed her eyes.
The corridor was reaching the end and Klint had noticed that two options had appeared on the black card, an arrow to his right read "ARMORY" while on the left "TRAINING ROOM". The boy smiled with joy when he discovered that there was room for training, he hadn't moved for a few days and he felt too numb, so the thought of being able to move some weights and run immediately made him remember his job.
Without distracting himself, he turned right entering a narrow black corridor illuminated by bluish lights. After a few minutes of walking, they glimpsed a glass door, judging by the crack next to it, it was understandable that it was the door to the armory.
Both Jeanne and Klint had difficulty getting in, both wanting to let the other through first, only ending up getting tangled up in front of the lock
As soon as the door opened, disappearing into the wall, a violent gust of wind hit Klint, throwing him down the corridor like a rag doll.
Lance was now on the ground, trembling slightly and drooling but still trying in every way to make a gesture with his thumb to Jeanne, to reassure her. For her part, however, Jeanne was too shocked to speak and turned her head left and right, looking at poor Klint and the figure that had emerged from the smoke of the armory with his hands clasped in prayer, desperate in the attempt to apologize.
The man dressed in white spoke alternating a timid tone with desperate cries, trying to make sure that Klint had not been shattered.
Klint had finally stood up, raising his thumbs to reassure the two, but the trickle of blood flowing from his mouth was certainly not reassuring. After clarifying the “Small” incident the figure invited them to enter.
The walls of the armory were a mix of black and blue, blending into various asymmetrical lines. The floor, however, was the usual white that he had come to know in the NOIR facility.
The room was tremendously spacious and filled with shelves and cabinets. In the center of the room, a machine made up of ropes, pulleys, and wires held a large turbine steady, connected to fuel, and enclosed within a solid iron structure. Klint guessed that it must be the engine the boy who had tossed him down the corridor was talking about.
He was a rather young boy, like Maliard, but with sharper features, thin lips, sharp eyes, and a mature look very in contrast to his current behavior. Maverick was dressed in a long white coat, with one sleeve torn, probably due to the wind generated by the engine. Klint was rather amazed by the size of his forearms, tremendously shaped and full of scars.
Under his coat, the iron reflection could be seen every time he swayed among the shelves looking for some instruments. The reflection was caused by the black armor he wore under his long robe. He looked very heavy with all those black trappings but Maverick didn't seem shaken by it.
Jeanne gasped as she felt the cold touch of the measuring tape encircling her shoulders, then quickly moving to her arm and abdomen.
Without even being able to say a word, Klint felt grabbed by the shoulder and squeezed, almost felt by the plastic material of the glove. Maverick smiled with satisfaction after almost traumatizing them both.
Maverick continued talking while fiddling with a panel on the sides of the room.
Suddenly the walls began to close inwards, revealing an immense array of weapons hanging from the new walls, completely white and decorated with some greenish rhomboid geometric pattern.
The equipment displayed on the walls was of all kinds, from pistols, rifles, grenades, knives of all kinds, spears, and even chainsaws.
With a surprisingly athletic gesture, he jumped off the not-so-secure stool and handed the envelope to Jeanne.
Once the knot was untied, you could glimpse the shape of a picture frame, completely gilded and decorated with white wings on the upper end.
They both looked at the “Weapon” with a surprised and unsure face. Jeanne was completely entranced by the sight of the frame, but it was due to her artistic side, rather than the fact that it was a weapon that Maverick was very proud of.
The frame rotated on one of the pivots at the corners, folding back on itself and elongating one end, changing into a shape similar to an ornamental sword, tapering along the tip and sharpening on only one side.
He said happily as he handed him another envelope, this time in shades closer to grey.
Klint, curious, extracted the contents delicately, noting that it was quite heavy, but not enough to make it difficult for him to hold.
In his firm grip, he held the wooden butt of a heavy platinum white revolver, the black wood inlaid with a delicate golden circle blending with the metal of the weapon's body. The fluted barrel decorated with a disconnected series of black wires also folded downwards, sealing the 8-hole black drum in its firm position.
He explained, mimicking the gesture of reloading.
He said as he stood up
The huge dark red room revealed itself before their eyes. Golden lines accompanied the contours of the red and swollen walls as if they were muffled.
A very long series of displays and showcases showed their contents: Fingers, clothes, fragments of blades, and even bullets.
He exclaimed running towards the display case.
The black bracelet, resting softly on the reddish pillow, was wriggling desperately, reacting to the Frequency of someone in the room.
Klint began to get closer, with each step he could hear the buzzing of the glass increasing. The bracelet was shaking furiously, almost hopping within the little space that the display allowed it.
NOIR knew what Lachesis was: a curse, something so sinister and diabolical that was labeled by the second Commander of the Organization as ruination in his truest form. Maverick was one of the few that managed to get a glimpse of its full power.
Klint touched the case and the bracelet clung to him, breaking the glass and tightening onto his arm. The inscriptions on the black surface of the relic began to rotate furiously. Along with those characters he managed to read “Klint” followed by a senseless series of other names “Damian”, and "Bluette" and then moving on to “JAck”. Finally, the characters settled down leaving only the surname.
An icy chill flowed down his vertebrae, leaving him shaken. The room had disappeared and he found himself enveloped in fog, the same fog as that time in the clearing.
A delicate breath caressed his earlobe followed by an imperceptible whisper.
With a start he opened his eyes, a few minutes had passed since his contact with Lachesis but that dream seemed to have lasted hours. Maverick grabbed his shoulders, shaking him and groping him, trying to make sure he was okay. He forcefully took his arm, examining it without touching the thin black bracelet on his right wrist.
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Maverick turned to Klint as his watch was sending a signal to Monica. A system common to all Noir members, a multifunction watch capable of communicating and sending signals remotely.
Jeanne listened in silence with her head down, covering her mouth with the back of her hand.
Unlike the weapon I gave you, Lachesis does not use projectiles or has any methods of creating them...It synchronizes your frequency with the barrel of the weapon to detonate the shot. The consequences of the recoil are disastrous in any case. and if I used too much energy, by forcing the connection... your arm could jump together with the weapon.> Maverick continued with his explanation, he had taken Klint by the shoulders and looked sternly at him, he was completely different from the careless and nice boy from before. It was clear in his eyes that he would do anything to stop Klint from abusing Lachesis.
Klint was speechless, he glanced at the bracelet on his arm, he could swear he saw a sinister light hovering around that absurd piece of black iron.
With a flick of his fingers, the bracelet seemed to melt, flowing down Klint's hand like water. All the molten mass accumulated in the palm of his hand, solidifying into a heavy block of black metal that vaguely resembled a gun. The wide and square barrel, longer than that of Supplicium, must have been around 40 centimeters, the butt divided into 2 parts and curved, to allow the boy to grip it. Gaps through the barrel and receiver gave off a bleak dark vapor along with an even bleaker purplish glow.
The weapon gave off a tremendously sinister air, enough to make the air in the room freeze.
Monica burst into the armory, taking in the scene before her eyes. Klint, the boy she had found surrounded by the corpses of supernatural creatures, was holding her sister's weapon.
His gaze showed neither anger nor sadness but fear and terror. He sprinted towards Klint, taking his hand, Lachesis disappeared, returning to being a bracelet.
Taking her shoulders, Klint nodded seriously. He wasn't stupid and he could understand how infamous that artifact was to the people who had seen it in action.
Klint didn't need to ask questions about it, he knew well why it was better for Malliard to remain in the dark.
Both Klint and Jeanne blushed, remembering the chat the night before. Between personal tastes and hobbies, they had said everything. Klint had even talked about his poor social experiences and the same was true for Jeanne.
Unexpectedly a figure, covered in a long black and red coat was standing there. The red and blond quiff this time was not covered by the hat and his thick set of long hair and disheveled. The black sweater matched the rest of his outfit perfectly and brought out the natural red in her eyes.
Klint thought, remembering how he had called Jeanne in his note.
Before Monica could even continue her discussion with Ross, Klint grabbed her by the back of the neck, squeezing slightly
The scene went on for a few minutes while Klint tried in every way to make her understand that her habit was embarrassing, but she persisted in not understanding why it was embarrassing or wrong.
Jeanne said shyly, joining the bickering between Net and Klint.
He replied, smiling and putting a gray plastic card out of the inside pocket of his coat.
Monica jumped at Klint from behind him, climbing onto his shoulders, swinging him like a swing.
Klint replied sarcastically as he gently grabbed Monica off his shoulders.
She said, getting up from the ground.
On the gray ticket was written everything you needed to know for the mission: "Departure: 10.45 from the first port of Dielmon - estimated arrival at 12.10 at district IV - base located on Fifth Boulevard, apartment 593, room 2 - the rest of information is contained in the second black brick of the fireplace."
Klint read the note several times in his room while chewing on some dried meat. He was too focused on his studies and absolutely couldn't distract himself. Klint was physically and even mentally mature, but when it came to Hel and Frequencies, he was like a baby in kindergarten.
He leafed through all the texts that Lucas and Net had lent him. As he read he tried to channel that strange feeling in his fingers to train himself and the results were quite surprising. Shocks, almost as if they were pure electricity, flowed through his arms, passing through his muscles and invigorating his gaze.
His eyes and brain carried double the load at double the speed, his mind processing information at an incredible rate. In 2 hours he had already finished almost all the texts they had recommended to him until he picked up a small notebook full of scribbles and notes.
He flipped through it quickly, realizing it was one of Lucas' diaries.
“Meta abilities work through the manipulation of the frequency of one's own body or the surrounding environment, allowing the creation of unique and distinct phenomena for each individual.” Klint read every word carefully, voraciously devouring every notion from that dirty handwriting.
“Meta abilities are just like muscles or the mind, they can be honed and increased but if overused they can lead to serious damage, which is why some drugs are being developed to prevent Metas from overloading themselves”
Klint could well understand why, he had noticed how Malliard's arm had been burned from using his ability or how his migraine had gotten worse.
“Following many testimonies, I am convinced that Meta Skills originate in the Amygdala and are directly related to the emotional-mental state of the owner.”
The pages looked torn and damaged, and the notebook was certainly very old, but the pen and ink sketches made it clear that something must have stressed Lucas a lot about it.
“Following my experiment with August, I came to the proof that Meta abilities are a reflection of a person's traumas and experiences, they are corruptions of the mind that lodge in the subconscious and some cases seem to have a direct relationship to various disorders psychics, ironically and often, Metas know the name of their ability almost instinctively, even if they have never used it."
The rest of the notebook was just a cataloging of various types of skills, from manipulation of a certain frequency to complete manipulation of one's frequency. However, Klint had not read anything about an ability like he's capable of creating discrepancies and interference in other people's frequencies. If we wanted to imagine the frequency as a Wave, then Klint could be the destructive or constructive wave of that Frequency. His case was a special one, but his lack of culture on the subject didn't make him think about it for long.
Jeanne had just woken up, the clouds blocking the light from entering the room, leaving a thin dim light. Her golden frame gave off a soft light from inside her velvet case.
She fell while trying to get out of bed, seeing that in her sleep she had wrapped herself in the fragrant white sheets without realizing it.
She rolled across the room holding his knee, which for the second time had hit something. Jeanne stood up, hastily opening the closet and checking the time. It was 9.40, an hour left before leaving for the capital of Andimica, sector IV.
While she was thinking about the dilemma of whether or not to enter Lance's room, she felt his body freeze.
Outside the room, a girl with blond hair and a particular shirt with an embroidery symbolizing a blue tree was waiting, attached to the wall.
As they approached the large door of NOIR's gym, screams and booms could be heard echoing inside.
Net's jaw almost seemed to dislocate in amazement, while Jeanne had an expression on her face similar to that of everyone present in the room, including soldiers and orderlies who were there to train or to relieve some stress. There wasn't a single person who didn't have his mouth open in dismay at the sight of Klint.
The boy held the heavy barbell with a tight grip, back straight and gaze fixed forward, so concentrated that he didn't realize that all the people were looking at him in amazement.
The fabric of the black tank top barely tightened his skin, widening and stretching with each contraction. Keeping his arms outstretched, he lifted the silver rod, bent under the weight of the numerous cast-iron discs.
He lifted it once, then again, and again. On the eighth repetition, Lance finally began to slow down, brought the barbell to the height of his abdomen, trembling, sighed, and finally placed the barbell on the platform.
He sighed, unwrapping his shoulders and arms, smiling.
Sai said, bowing towards Klint, who was lying on the ground due to the impact.
They had both absentmindedly clashed with each other, but Sai had placed all the blame on himself, even though Klint had told him not to worry about it.
The boy stood up, holding out his hand to Klint, helping him to his feet.
Klint had found the most bizarre ways to train, following the few principles he had read from the few books he found in public libraries. Pull-ups, bends, lifting weights, and running with weights were the methods with which he began training. He even went so far as to create a pulley attached to some beams to mimic some gym machinery. Even as a courier, he purposely carried heavier loads to work better.
The boy had always been proud of his physical shape, but this time he had to admit that he had found someone even better than him.
Monica and Jeanne were both baffled by the duo in front of them. They smiled and joked, hitting each other on the shoulders and chest. Their glasses didn't help make the image any less comical or peculiar. Klint and Sai seemed like smart, decent guys but their size was certainly absurd for two young men.
Jeanne almost blanched at the number of plates attached to the barbell and how easily Kllint had lifted them.
It was 10.20 and Klint was finally ready, he was dressed sportily and wearing his classic asymmetric jacket. He put on his glasses and sprinted out of the room. Heading towards the lobby.
Monica Jeanne and Klint used the vehicle elevator. Klint remembered the sensation very well, feeling his stomach rolling in his guts wasn't pleasant and probably never will be. Jeanne, on the other hand, was completely unfazed, although her hair had become like a reverse waterfall.
The Triwheel sprinted out of the structure and headed towards the hangar.
Unlike the Pietas, which was much more massive and squared and with 4 wings powered by turbines, the Diem was much smaller and with only one pair of wings, folded and upside down compared to conventional vehicles. The rear was more square and was occupied by the vehicle's engine.
Ross hit the ground with his stick twice, opening the ship's hatches, from which a long series of steps quickly dropped down to land.
They both smiled and boarded the Diem, taking their seats in the unexpectedly large belly of the ship.
“TAKEOFF PROCEDURE STARTED —— 3 MINUTES TO DEPARTURE” a voice rang out.