Chapter 92: The Dropship Has Arrived!
"Are you planning something foolish, Lord Lancet?" Astensia asked, her brow creased with genuine worry as she stepped closer.
Thor scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest. "Foolish? Try entirely self-serving." She glared at Lancet, her blue eyes flashing with static.
"You don’t know that," Lancet said to her.
"Don’t I?" Thor challenged. "Whatever scheme you are hatching, it is for your own glory. You do not truly care about the people of Hebthej, nor do you care about eradicating the Demons. You just want what you want."
Lancet, hurt, kept his voice perfectly even. "That’s not true."
"You truly believe yourself to be a leader?" Thor asked, her voice ringing with thunderous authority. "A true leader makes sacrifices. A leader suffers so that their followers may thrive. You want the exact opposite. You want us to bend and break so you can play the hero. You are no leader, Lancet."
Lancet absorbed the words. They stung bitterly, echoing his own deepest insecurities, but he refused to let it show.
"That is fine," Lancet said softly, his voice eerily calm. "I’ve heard your mind."
He raised his gaze to the Valkyrie, looking at her like a god would at a broken creation. The air crackled with heavy tension. "I could force you to do what I want, Thor. You know I could do that, right?"
They stared at each other in absolute silence. Thor’s eyes were blazing storms of defiance, glaring down at him, knowing that he was right, terrified that he would do it and at the same time daring him to go ahead.
Lancet continued to gaze at her emotionlessly. Not truly, because his hurt was difficult to completely hide.
Astensia watched, torn.
"But I won’t do that," Lancet finally said. He lowered his head, severing the heavy eye contact. "I will summon you once we touch down in Hebthej. From there... you can do whatever you want."
Then, he allowed the blue lightning to take Thor away, returning her back into the ether of his soul core.
Silence fell over the room. Astensia sighed, watching her master with pity and guilt. "I truly apologize in her place, master. For as long as I’ve known Thor, her pride is her armor, but she means well."
She stepped slightly closer, her blue eyes earnest and pleading. "Why don’t you call upon me instead? Whatever you need done, I will answer."
Lancet shook his head. "I can’t. You’re too important for your part of the role. If you leave the evacuation line, even for a moment, the mission might still be a success, but one or more civilians would die. With you there, stopping the Demons, everyone will likely be safe."
Astensia’s eyes widened as she stared at him, her expression expanding into incredibly profound emotions. "You care that much about them?"
Lancet thought about it for a moment, looking down at his armored hands. "I’m not very sure," he admitted quietly. "Maybe I do, maybe I don’t."
He looked up at her. "I just know that you care."
Astensia’s breath hitched. Her eyes widened even more, the blue in them glittering like the surface of an ocean, the emotions becoming even more overwhelming.
Lancet watched her close the distance between them. He didn’t know what she was doing until she stepped even closer, and leaned in.
Astensia tilted her head, and in the most immaculate second of Lancet’s life, she pressed her lips against his.
Lancet froze, his eyes going wide as his entire body locked up in sheer shock.
But right in that moment, as the warmth of her lips registered against him, a profound wave of calm washed over him. All the suffocating stress of the impending raid, the bitter sting of Thor’s rejection—it was all simply pushed away by Astensia’s lips.
It felt like ice on a hot day. Like a blanket on a cold one. It spread through his body, beautiful, warm, and even enchanting.
Astensia carried this intoxicating scent of sunlit steel and blooming lilies that caused his heart to beat faster, yet calmed it at the same time. For a few fleeting seconds, the dark, cold preparatory room ceased to exist.
It was just him and her.
She slowly pulled away, a tender, breathtaking smile gracing her lips.
Lancet stared, his cheeks as red as valentine.
"Be careful on the battlefield, Lord Lancet," she whispered.
Lancet could barely string a thought together. "I... will," he muttered.
He let go of his Grace, and allowed the golden light to cascade over her, taking her away.
He sat on the bench for a moment, entirely alone, entirely shocked. His fingers lightly touched his lips. ’What just happened? She... she kissed me.’
BANG. BANG. BANG.
Heavy, impatient knocks hammered against the metal door, shattering the quiet.
"Time is up!" Professor Wolfgar’s voice barked through the steel. "Let’s go! Let’s go! The dropship has arrived!"
Lancet snapped out of his daze. He shook his head, adjusted the straps of his armor, and pushed the door open.
Out in the corridor, the rest of the vanguard was assembling. From the corner of his eye, Lancet saw Renan, Frieda, and Amira stepping out of the room next to his, but he deliberately kept his gaze forward, refusing to look lest he see something he didn’t want to.
Led by Wolfgar, the twenty-one Awakeners marched out of the corridor and onto the colossal underground launch platform.
Waiting for them was one of the marvels of the world’s growing magitechnology.
The dropship was massive, painted white and gold. With its reinforced fins and armored hull, it looked like a floating Gothic warship ready to siege the heavens.
The boarding ramp lowered, letting out a depressurizing hiss.
One by one, the vanguard began to file in, taking a seat in the drop chamber. As Lancet stepped onto the steep ramp, his golden armor made it slightly difficult for him to climb.
A hand suddenly reached down toward him.
Lancet looked up. Standing just inside the ship, bent slightly forward, was Nereus Grimlake.
The Shadowmancer looked down at him, his dark, handsome features expressing an apathetic sincerity.
Lancet stared at him for a while, their history crackling the space between them. After a moment, he accepted the hand, and let Nereus pull him up into the dropship’s hold.
They took their seats side-by-side on the cold metal benches. Lancet sat right beside Nereus. As he strapped in, a girl in red armor sat on his other side.
Lancet turned slightly. At the same time, Frieda Castleloft turned. Their eyes caught each other’s. Frieda’s fiery red eyes lingered on his face for a fleeting second before she quickly darted her gaze away.
Lancet ultimately looked away as well. Opposite him on the other bench was Renan, Amira, and Vernon who glared silent daggers at him before looking away.
A long, heavy breath left the Architect. He rested the back of his head against the vibrating wall of the dropship, closing his eyes to steal just a moment of peace.
"Don’t rest too long," Nereus said beside him. "We’ll be in Hebthej before your eyes can close."
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A/N: What’s going to happen in Hebthej? Is Thor going to have a change of mind? Will she double down? Will Lancet defeat the second Demon Head? Do you wanna find out? I know I do.