Chương 67: CHAPTER 66 – The Leviathan

You really don't know how to tie a tie at your age?" Maliard was trying by every means to undo the tangle that had once been poor Lance's black tie.

"I have never worn one…" Maliard nodded, muttering some apology and finally managing to set it right. The two of them looked at themselves in the massive mirror in the wardrobe room, lit by a strong yellowish light. Both wore similar suits, save for their colours: Maliard in a deep green, Lance in a classic charcoal black.

"I thought it suited you better on the whole, though you could have broken it up with something more colourful…" Maliard fastened the second button of his jacket, adjusting his ash-white bow tie.

"I have never been to a party with important people before… Not without pretending to be someone else, at least." Lance let out a sigh as he adjusted his collar.

"In any case, black suits you. It gives you that extra touch of maturity." Maliard cast one last glance at the street from that massive room, papered in wine-coloured fabric. His eye fell on the unmade bed, and he immediately tidied the heavy blue sheets and the bluish silk cushions.

"Do you want the window open? I do not know if you smoke or…" Lance struck the black window frame, letting in a glacial breeze and the din of the burgeoning nightlife.

"I do not smoke, Lance." Piqued, he shut the glass, looking the boy in the eye. He promptly walked toward one of the drawers and pulled out a golden, glossy handkerchief. Without a word, he tucked it into Lance's breast pocket.

"And for the record, I would not smoke even if I were a human…" Maliard smiled, gesturing for him to follow. Once out in the white corridor, its floor of luxurious wood arranged in an almost endless series of repeating crosses, Maliard rubbed his eyes the moment he heard the distant, muffled din, murmuring something along with Lance. The dazzling light of the blue crystal chandelier illuminated the hall, its floor of fine, greyish marble, polished like a mirror.

Before the great door, all the agents had gathered, waiting for the vehicle.

"I had no doubts about Maliard, but seeing you like this is a breath of fresh air." Edvard smiled, greeting Lance with a warm embrace. The smell of freshly pressed smoke had already stained his suit.

"Perhaps I got the wrong size with the suit…" Maverick murmured, disappointed, watching Lance's shoulders desperately trying to break free of the garment.

"Do not worry! It is only that the armour underneath is far too bulky. Did you not have one like the ones you gave us last time?" Maverick went slightly pale in the face, gripping his long white coat with force.

"They are different! What you are wearing now is the peak of efficiency and safety. One never knows when the occasion to arm oneself might arise. I keep the ignition keys myself. You need only fit them into the appropriate slot to activate it." His face lit up with joy and emotion as he spoke, immediately causing everyone present to take a step back, leaving him alone in a circle.

"I-I think… It might be the wrong size." Jeanne began, clumsily trying to do up the zip at her back. Her dress was an elegant blue with dark details, as though shadows were dancing across the fabric. The upper part was meant to fit more loosely, but unfortunately her figure was poorly contained within the garment. Monica glanced for a second at her own dress, in more masculine tones, tapping her own chest. She gave Jeanne a closer look, huffing indignantly.

"Here, take this, or you will get cold." Lautre smiled, taking off his jacket and remaining only in his shirt and a pair of glasses with blue frames.

"Are you sure you will not freeze?" Lance asked, watching the first snowflakes fall on the people outside. Lautre shook his head, pulling a silver flask from his pocket.

"Do not worry. He has so much alcohol in it that he's more like a stove than a Meta." Edvard smiled, heading outside along with Maverick and Monica, still sulking. Lance nodded, heading out of the hotel with Noel, waiting for the car.

"Have you ever met Miss Lexa, Noel?" The boy asked the hulking man dressed in a bizarre pink suit. Seeing him dressed to the nines was a terribly peculiar sight, even for the line of work he had found himself in.

"No, I was on a mission the year she asked Monica to stop by… Hoku says she is strange, though." Lance nodded slowly, without taking his eyes off his face, until the car horn brought him back to reality. Everyone climbed into the extraordinarily long, luxurious car with its golden trim, even on the rims dressed with their tyres. Everyone stopped to admire it before making room and letting it speed away beneath their damp, cold eyes.

The journey itself was rather relaxing, if not for the numerous bumps and Monica's constant attempts to squeeze more words out of Lance than strictly necessary. As the tower on the horizon grew larger, so the landscape beyond the windows changed. The factories and residences began to grow sparser, giving way to great green parks and slender apartment blocks of dark, reddish brick, almost as though infested by rust.

"This is the district reserved for private production and staff amenities. Down there are various crops, protected from the industrial waste." Winoc drew Lance and Jeanne's attention, their gaze fixed where his wrinkled finger pointed.

"It has changed so much since the last time I was here…" Monica murmured, fixing her gaze on the tower, now looming above them.

"I imagine things change over all these years. In any case, I must bid you farewell. Deborah will accompany you to dinner in my place." Everyone stepped out of the car, setting their feet on the complex arrangement of hexagonally cut stones. The splash of water spat from the fountains and the rustle of wind through the artificial forests made that atmosphere almost comparable to that of Dielmon.

"Coming in heels was a mistake…" Monica gripped her own foot, trying to pull it out of one of the cracks, only managing to fall against the frozen metal of the car. While Maliard tried to help her up, a young woman with long golden hair and a bandage appeared before the enormous gate. Her eyes were identical to Winoc's, perhaps slightly paler.

"You must be Madame Lexa's guests. It is my pleasure to escort you." The girl seemed almost to appear before them in a single step, seizing Lance and Monica's hands.

"My mistress and my superior have spoken so very well of you both! Especially of you! Lance Klint, is that right?" With an incredible burst of vigour, she gripped his hand, making it tremble almost.

"She seems almost like the mirrored version of Arte…" He thought, gently releasing her grip and smiling as he watched everyone else have the same reaction. The entrance to the tower was something extraordinary, and yet far too ordinary compared to what his mind had imagined. The floor was upholstered in red and black diamond patterns, with various staircases leading to the upper floors and two glass doors on either side, connected to a complex series of pulleys and cables.

The only detail that left them puzzled was a colossal door of white wood, coated in golden incrustations and strange chains covered in violet barnacles.

"Yes, I know what you are all thinking, but this is precisely where the heart of all our operations lies…" Monica immediately began kicking it, under the bewildered gaze of everyone present.

"You truly figured out how to make it work? Extraordinary…" Lance tried to raise his hand, but was immediately silenced by a cough from Maliard.

"It is a relic we donated to Machinamentum years ago. Maverick used to call it ' the beast's stomach,' since every time he tried to open it, something got sucked inside. I never imagined I would see it at work." Deborah nodded with satisfaction, pulling Monica away from the handle.

"According to our research, an entirely separate space resides inside that door. Nearly as large as the whole city itself, and that's reductive. Perhaps it is better seen with one's own eyes…" Having said this, she seized the handle, and after three extremely rapid turns, the great door opened, releasing a silvery haze. None of them managed to keep their jaws shut when the blinding light settled. In an enormous prairie wrapped in the faintest haze stood an identical tower, perhaps slightly larger.

The most astonishing detail, however, was the enormous silos connected by long paths of glass and golden iron. Across the packed ground worked large groups of people, alongside intricate figures of metal wrapped in smoke.

"This is where all our internal production takes place. What you see are suits developed for maximum output." Deborah smiled, raising her arm toward a swarm of small aircraft, similar to the one Lance remembered.

"W-what happens if there is a malfunction?" Jeanne asked, watching the yellowish moon pulse in the black sky, full of strange grey stars.

"There would simply be a large explosion, and everything would be hurled down onto the tower you entered from. Nothing too dangerous, on the whole." Lance, Lautre, and Maliard exchanged a nod, preparing to pull their equipment from their own pockets.

"Must the three of you always worry so much?! Just because something could go wrong does not mean it necessarily will." Maverick scolded them, gripping Maliard's shoulders.

"You said that about my missions too…" Lance murmured, raising four fingers with an anguished expression. Lautre and Maliard nodded.

"In any case, your Compulsion could not be transported, so try not to overuse that prototype." Maverick pointed to his arm, fixing him directly in the face. Before anyone could say another word, the shuttle landed on a small bridge outside the dome that formed the tower's summit. Deborah extended her hand to the guests, one by one, then boarded the aircraft again. Rea gripped Lautre's leg, while focusing on all the various people hovering.

"My mistress was personally keen on escorting you all to dinner, so I offer you my sincere regards and a pleasant stay." With a bow, she let them go, quickly blending in with the other shuttles in the artificial sky. A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

"Certainly extravagant…" Hoku smiled, leaning out over the railings. Nausea immediately took hold of his stomach, forcing him to cling to the entrance door. Suddenly the two iron slabs opened, sending him falling directly in front of a black heel, partly covered by a long red and black dress.

"That seems a rather excessive greeting…" Lexa smiled, helping the man back up under everyone's watchful eyes. The moment he realised he was clinging to her, Hoku immediately hid behind Noel.

"I am so glad to see all of you together, though I would have preferred to see Lucas again." Lexa stepped aside after shaking each of their hands, with a particular wink for Lance and Jeanne. A moment later, a bell rang from the centre of the room. The floor opened, raising a colossal, laden table. On the pale wood gleamed the most varied silverware, wrapped in an almost tangible cloud of fragrances.

"I did not know your tastes very well, so I prepared a bit of everything." She sat elegantly at the head of the table, slowly raising the shutters to let in the yellowish light. Everyone began to sit and take something to put on their plates: some bread, some meat. Someone took a bit of everything, except Lance. He stared at the dark, tender meat on his plate, occasionally poking at it with his fork.

"You seem troubled… Still uneasy about our little incident?" Lexa asked, rousing him from his stupor. He let out a small laugh, shaking his head.

"How is Grayson Dirac?" Lexa smiled, while everyone else stared at him in confusion once more, except Maliard and Jeanne, the latter too busy eating to hear the boy's faint voice.

"I expected a question like that from you. In any case, he has recovered and is doing well, though he refused outright to eat anything with the rest of us…" Lance sighed, beginning to cut his meat quickly.

"This wine really is excellent…" Lautre smiled, pouring himself more than half a glass of liquid so deeply red it almost looked violet.

"It is very rare, since it comes from Northest. After the war, the other nations became so reclusive that finding certain delights for the palate has become almost impossible." She smiled, gently swirling the wine in her glass. Jeanne tried a sip, left stunned by the taste. Lance did the same, setting his glass down with a shrug.

"Did you really cook all this yourself? Or are you saying that to look good, because the Lexa Worhol I remember was not exactly a whiz in the kitchen." Monica joked, wiping her lips of a mix of sauce and shredded herbs.

"I did not do it entirely alone… Considering that some of you eat rather more than I expected, but I did work in the kitchen myself." Her knife pointed toward the hulking man to her left, devouring slice after slice with unexpectedly good manners.

"Mrs. Worhol, why have you had us dine in a place like this? It seems evident that this hall is being repurposed for the construction of some instrument." Edvard began, pointing to the two staircases behind Lexa, each leading to a different door at the top.

"You may call me Lexa. We have known each other for far too long, Edvard… In any case, you are right. This is only a prototype for observing Hel, but it is also a gift for Grayson." She answered, pointing to the dark door decorated with peculiar golden markings.

"If the project can be realised here, then I will be able to create a way to see the stars so clearly it will feel as though one could touch them. I want that man to work for me, and to make that happen, I want to grant him the best environment possible." Monica set her cutlery down on her empty plate, fixing Lexa intently enough to chill the atmosphere.

"I promised to let you handle this matter, but Grayson Dirac is dangerous." Lexa nodded, rising from the table and walking toward the window.

"Of course, I know that perfectly well. But I too was exactly like him once, and yet you gave me a chance. I only want… To do the same for him." Monica rose, gripping the tablecloth with force, but something stopped her.

"Miss Lexa, I know your story too, and I would like to say I agree. However, Grayson is far stronger than you are." Lance rose, wiping his face and fixing her directly.

"You truly must have an eye for these things… Indeed, if Grayson wanted to escape, he would already have destroyed this entire place. And yet he has not done so. Quite the opposite has happened, in fact. He has deliberately isolated himself so as not to disturb our work." Monica sighed, sitting back down and nodding.

"The boy is right. We should give him at least one chance. In any case, it is a miracle he has not already become a Korrupt on the spot, and that shows he is still capable of reason." Lautre answered, setting his wine down on the table.

"See, Monica, you should trust the youngs more. Especially him!" Lexa disappeared from her seat, switching places with her dark and viscous clone.

"Hey, hold on..." She appeared behind Lance, stealing a bit from his fork and slowly caressing his shoulders. Lautre, Jeanne, and Monica stopped eating, giving her an ominous stare.

"Just joking!" Lexa returned to her chair, smiling and licking her index finger. Lance sighed, slowly munching down his portion.

"In any case… I have a question…" Lexa pointed her finger toward the figure seated between Jeanne and Monica, completely distracted from the discussion, perhaps still dazed by the luxury of the place.

"WHO IS THIS CUTE LITTLE ANGEL?!?!" She immediately appeared behind poor Rea, frantically stroking her head. Unexpectedly, the girl began to laugh and press herself against the woman, so much so that she let herself be picked up, despite her build.

"Oh! She likes me! You can call me Auntie, if you like." Lautre sighed, but seeing the little girl smile and hug Lexa's chest, he gave a nod of approval.

"Is this perhaps the girl Winoc mentioned?! She is adorable!" Monica cast a confused glance behind herself, finding Lance frozen in a mixture of embarrassment and astonishment.

"He mentioned that Jeanne and Lance bought her at an auction. Those disgusting nobles! I would have killed all of them with Albus if they gave me the chance."

"Calm down... We don't need a massacre in the archipelago." Edvard laughed, wiping his lips from the red droplets.

"I do have to say that the lady here knows the world!" Lautre and Maverick laughed, almost cheering. All the group laughed, speaking of their last days. Some tried to hide, while others furiously laughed at half-assed jokes, when suddenly shutters came down over the windows, and a deafening siren began ringing in their ears. Lexa's face went white as loud crashes began sounding from the lower floors.

"INTRUDER IN SECTION I — ALL PERSONNEL ARE ORDERED TO ENGAGE." That voice resounded as a tremor knocked Lance off balance. One of the elevator doors opened, immediately presenting a group of heavily armed soldiers.

"Madam, please follow us immediately. The guests may…" Monica stepped directly into the elevator, gesturing to Maverick.

"I do not care what plans you have for us. Take us to the lower floors immediately." The entire group nodded, distributing the ignition keys among themselves. The guards fixed their gaze on Lexa, and she nodded, stepping into the elevator. In a vast red space, its sides lined with dozens of square machines, the floor was beginning to be stained with moss and blood.

Beyond the partition separating that enormous balcony from the complex system of pipes and rails, a body protruded, pierced clean through by a wedge of rock. At the feet of the dead lay sacks of flesh and metal, perhaps once human, now crushed by rocks.

"This place really is lacking in colour… I would call it distinctly unvibrant." The man tore his hand out of a soldier's ribcage, letting him fall into the void below.

"In any case, I believe you have seen better days. Why not talk for a bit, so I can let you be treated in peace? I am not especially fond of massacres." The man answered, polishing his thick, circular, sky-blue-framed glasses.

"Go fuck yourself and die…" Winoc, gasping, gripped the pulp that had once been his leg, now reduced to a disconnected mass of muscle and bone. His other leg had been severed entirely. The man took a step, and Winoc drew back until his shoulders met the wall.

"I only asked you where Grayson Dirac is. I know perfectly well that you can give me an answer." The edge of his long cylinder reflected a cruel light, almost as though it were a blade. Above his head, his vision began to distort, as though someone were painting the air with a thick grey. Suddenly, an enormous rock, covered in algae and ice, materialised above him.

"I will say it again... Go fuck yourself." He smiled as blood dripped over his teeth. The man's lips fell, in something like a mixture of bitterness and disappointment. Before he could lower his hand, an enormous explosion struck the area, releasing smoke and debris.

"Finally, I was beginning to wonder when you would arrive." From the smoke emerged a large group of people. Before them, a woman with a garment across her shoulders, long down to her hips and gleaming as though it were metal. Behind her, a bare-chested hulk of a man, wearing nothing but a belt full of various tools. The others took their positions, arranging themselves in a curve.

"Lance… I am glad you came…" A spurt of blood escaped his throat, staining the ground at his feet even further. Lance Klint took a step forward, trying to hold his trembling limbs still.

"At least Deborah and Lexa… Will be safe…" The sound of his words was swallowed by the deafening crash of the boulder, now become a tomb. A drop of blood fell onto the man's green bow tie, and he sighed as he undid it.

"Now that I have your attention…" His body was sent flying, kicked away by an immense force. No one had managed to see it, only a flash of white light that had scorched the ground. Lance set his foot back on the ground, a golden gleam in his right eye. The man rose from the ground, laughing faintly.

"Had I not protected myself, my arm would have been blown clean off… Banal, but effective enough." It was only then that Lance noticed the fingers of the man's hand lying on the ground, right at his own feet, surrounded by strange greyish shards.

"I see… Those rocks are his ability." In an instant, all the tissue began to reform, and Supplicium regained its shape.

"Who are you?" He murmured, levelling the barrel of the pistol at his face. The unsettling golden gleam was the only thing the man wanted to pay attention to, until the faint click of the pistol brought him to speak.

"Are you angry? Perhaps sad? Or a mixture of both. In any case, you are genuinely interesting right now." A bullet exploded against his shoulder, ricocheting off the plate of rock and ice. Maliard clicked his tongue.

"I will repeat the question… Who are you?" Maliard paid no mind to anything else. He judged the state of the bodies and the scene that had just unfolded before them.

"Lance, this man might be a monster on par with Malcom. His Frequency is off the charts." Maliard took Lance's side, grabbing his wrist. The man's glasses fell to the ground, letting his eyes, blue as ice, light up his pale face. He adjusted his long green checkered jacket with its golden buttons and smiled.

"David Casparis Richard. I'm the current commander of Changeant's forces." A shiver ran through everyone present, and a single instinct took hold of their bodies: fear.