Chapter 271 - 266 — Vent
"Come on, Zephyrion, this party was your idea and you haven’t eaten a single thing."
As Fiona inched the spoon closer to his mouth, Zephyrion, unlike himself, scrunched up his face in visible irritation, slowly leaning away.
’It’s getting worse.’
He missed the days when Fiona could barely look him in the eye, yet was still nice and obedient. The Fiona now had become a total beast in a woman’s skin. She met his gaze without the slightest hesitation, casually called him by his name, and now was even trying to feed him in front of the hundreds of cadets around them!
’What’s wrong with her? Can’t she tell I don’t want this?’
He’d made it increasingly obvious that he wasn’t interested. After stylishly refusing every advance, constantly promising her "next time," and even smiling while doing it, shouldn’t any woman have gotten the hint by now?
"Just one bite, Zephyrion. You said later, and now it’s later."
Fiona’s eyes gleamed with determination as she edged the spoon even closer.
Zephyrion resisted the urge to smack his forehead.
’Shit, I’m basically leading her on.’
How could he have been so stupid? It wasn’t that he was clueless about dealing with relationships, but he’d never quite had to deal with something like this.
He usually encouraged most relationships since they got him what he wanted, while those he had no interest in pursuing usually sorted themselves out, especially once his time there came to an end and he had to leave. Unfortunately, that wasn’t happening with Fiona. Not anytime soon.
He tilted his head, letting the spoon sweep harmlessly past his cheek. But Fiona merely smiled. The determination in her eyes never wavered as she tried again.
’I have to deal with this.’
The cadets had begun throwing glances his way. Some cheered him on, while others, like Tobias and the few others he planned on punishing later, struggled to keep their laughter in. Meanwhile, several of the female cadets glared at Fiona with unmistakable hostility, as though they wanted nothing more than to drag her away from him.
Still, Zephyrion didn’t quite care about any of them seeing this. Somehow, he was more concerned about someone else. His gaze drifted past the other cadets and settled on a table a short distance away.
There, a group of short, scrawny, chubby-cheeked, nerdy-looking female cadets sat together. They were all doubled over in laughter, clutching their chests. And the source... it was none other than the petite, cute cadet seated at the head of the table.
Lumi’s hands flew through one sign after another, her face lit up with a bright smile as she excitedly recounted a story to the cadets. Zephyrion recognized it immediately. It was about one of their missions where they had to infiltrate the business of an overweight man with ten wives. Naturally, she left out all the gory details, sticking only to the juicier parts. That alone was enough to send the girls into a fit of laughter.
Zephyrion shut out everything else and watched her. Lumi had gone from eating alone to somehow gathering a group of girls who had become her new circle within the fortress.
They ate together during meals, wandered the fortress together, and rarely seemed apart. He had noticed the awkwardness at first. But as ascendants, picking up sign language hadn’t been difficult for them. After that, they seemed to spend more time laughing than anything else, completely won over by Lumi’s humor.
’She seems... happy.’
It was a first, seeing Lumi so excited about something that wasn’t related to him. He frowned for a moment, then sighed.
Maybe he’d been going about it all wrong.
He’d automatically assumed something had happened to explain Lumi’s sudden change in behavior. But what if nothing had happened? What if this was simply Lumi finally growing, finally breaking free of her dependence on him?
For the first time, she had found something that genuinely made her happy, something that wasn’t him.
Rather than feeling bad and trying to figure out what was wrong, wasn’t it a good thing?
He leaned away from another spoonful Fiona tried to feed him, his eyes never leaving Lumi.
If it was a good thing, then he should be happy for her, right?
Lumi suddenly noticed him staring and turned to face him. Her smile widened, so bright it was almost as though a sun had risen inside the mess hall. She waved at him before, without waiting for a response, turning back to continue her story.
Zephyrion’s hand slowly curled into a fist. He should be happy.
Yet, why did he feel so shitty?
"I think... I’ve got an upset stomach," he finally said.
Fiona instantly froze before looking at him with concern.
"What? Really? Is it bad? What happened? Should I call someone? We have to—"
"Usually, when this happens, the less I talk to people, the better I feel."
"Oh."
Realization dawned on Fiona’s face, followed by a firm nod.
"Got it! Then don’t talk to anyone. I won’t either! And I’ll make sure no one else does!"
She immediately pulled away and began vigilantly scanning their surroundings like a guard on duty. Any cadet who wandered too close to Zephyrion was instantly met with her piercing glare.
Her determination made something stir in Zephyrion’s chest. Though, the knowing looks and amused head shakes he received from Tobias, Kaiden, and Kaelion certainly didn’t help.
A moment later, Zephyrion sighed. He almost couldn’t wait for nighttime.
He really needed to vent.
...
The celebrations continued until nighttime. By then, they had dissolved into a full-blown party where the cadets danced and ate their fill.
It was uncertain when next their Prime would be this relaxed, so many took full advantage of it. Especially Draven, who seemed to be everywhere at once, participating in every game, his booming laughter echoing throughout the fortress.
He was a stark contrast to Nedra, who wore a perpetual glare all day. Her eyes seemed to criticize everything the cadets did before inevitably settling back on Zephyrion, as though making it clear that this was all his fault.
Soon, though, the party tapered to an end as the sun fully dipped below the horizon. The cadets, completely exhausted from celebrating, filtered out of the mess hall amid loud laughter and cheerful banter.
Many joked about keeping the party going until the next day, while others groaned about having to continue this accursed war. Zephyrion trailed behind the others as they left the mess hall.
Eventually, silence descended, leaving not a single soul behind. As time passed, it seemed to spread throughout the fortress like a cloak.
After an unknown, but significant, amount of time, the massive resource drop crate sitting in the middle of the mess hall suddenly flared. Countless runic symbols lit up across its surface before spreading outward, spiraling around it in a whirling ring.
Then the runes blazed, flooding the mess hall with blinding light.
Moments later, the light faded, revealing several figures clad entirely in black, leaving only their faces exposed. They cautiously swept their gazes across the mess hall before the tall, broad-shouldered figure standing at their head spoke.
"Secure the area."
Several among them shot off in different directions, and in an instant the doors, windows, and every possible entrance and exit had been secured.
"Clear."
"Clear."
"Clear."
Receiving confirmation, the buff figure, Jogo, the fourth strongest in the northern house, gave a faint nod. The light caught a brief glint on his chest, and he quickly adjusted his attire to ensure it was properly concealed. Then, he tapped his rune tab and said;
"Steel to base. We’re in. The coast is clear."
The message traveled far, echoing within the war room of the northern house. The moment it arrived, the head cadets erupted into loud cheers.
"Haha! They’re in! I told you it would work!" one of them said with a grin.
"Of course it worked. Those southern idiots never even saw it coming!" another chimed in.
"To think they spent the whole day partying. They practically handed us their fortress!"
"That’s our Prime for you. Who else could come up with something like this?"
"Hmph. With the Prime leading us, how could this have ended any other way?"
"He really is the best."
The generals turned towards their Prime, their eyes filled with reverence and awe.
Malach sat at the table with his chin resting on one fist, silent. His crimson eyes remained cold, entirely unmoved by the praise surrounding him.
Instead, he watched the war table displaying the live feed from Jogo’s chest, the empty mess hall reflected in his eyes. A moment later, he gave a faint nod.
"Proceed."
"Copy that, Prime," Jogo responded. "Advancing to the Bastion Core."
...
Leaving the mess hall, Jogo had expected to silence at least a few cadets wandering the halls or patrolling the fortress. However, to his shock, not only did they encounter no patrols, but every cadet they came across was either sprawled across the floor asleep or so drunk they could barely walk, completely oblivious to the fact that Jogo and the others were enemies.
Jogo’s frown deepened with every step.
"I thought southerners were supposed to be warriors. This? This is just embarrassing."
He spat beside a few sleeping cadets and gritted his teeth, barely restraining his disgust. He was disappointed, thoroughly disappointed. He had expected at least a little resistance, anything at all. Instead, all they found was a bunch of useless fools.
"To think these people dare call themselves Ferrans." His eyes burned with contempt. "Once we take their fortress, I’ll beat every last one of them until they remember what that title actually means. Move. We’re wasting time."
He ordered. The members of the Striker Unit with him were the elites of the elite, all at least Mark Five. Each of them, like Jogo, had fought through countless hardships to reach their current strength. The sight of these cadets slacking off was infuriating.
They nodded immediately, quickening their pace.