Chapter 397: _You’re Doing Quite Well
Morozov Private Manor
"Viktor, you’re even more handsome than the pictures your mother sent us." Irina’s sister, Ksenia, said in Russian, patting the ice Prince on his shoulder. "All the ladies must be swarming around you."
Viktor shrank away from her touch thanks to that last part.
One glance at his mother put an end to that convo quickly.
"Viktor... likes men," Irina said as naturally as possible, fingers clinking against her glass.
The extended family was a bit larger than even Viktor expected.
First there were his uncle and aunt—Konstantin and Ksenia.
Konstantin, also called Kostya, was the middle child. He had light brown hair and a moustache, standing at around six feet. Then there was his wife, Yelena and their three children: Mikhail and the notorious twin girls Viktor hung around last time.
As for his aunt, Ksenia was a warm, sweet woman with strawberry blonde hair and blue eyes. Her husband, Roman, was a burly man with a bushy beard, walking beside her like a silent tank.
They had two girls—the youngest cousins, Lena and Nika, who were currently busy running about the living room while their mother occasionally looked on to make sure they didn’t break anything.
"Oh?" Varya, one of the twins, placed a hand right above her chest. "So that’s why you’ve never brought a girlfriend home."
Roman and Konstantin shared an awkward look.
Whatever reservations they had about Viktor liking men weren’t worth voicing beneath Irina’s roof.
Besides, this was America. The land of the free... or whatever.
Varya’s twin nudged her with her elbow. "Knock it off." She moved to Viktor’s side as the parents gradually made their way to the dining room. "Seriously, do you have a boyfriend? I saw a post you were tagged in during Pride Month."
Viktor smiled awkwardly. "Yes, Anfisa. I have a boyfriend."
"Goodie!" Varya’s accent made it hard to take that word seriously. "You have to introduce us to him while we’re here. Speaking of, why didn’t you bring him over for dinner?"
"Girls..." Yelena called from the dining room. "Quit disturbing your cousin and come over here."
The twins backed away, Varya grumbling something about her mother sapping the fun out of things again. Their teen brother, Mikhail, trailed lazily behind them, too busy on his phone to care about his eldest cousin essentially coming out.
Viktor pulled out his phone as well, typing a quick text to Ambrose:
"If I send you an SOS, you’ll send a portal to me."
He clicked send.
A few seconds later, Ambrose sent a response.
"Sorry, babe. You might wanna forward this to Gabriel. I’m kinda in the middle of something important and need to concentrate."
Then two heart emojis followed.
The S-Rank’s fingers tightened around his phone.
Just when he was about to send yet another text, Konstantin cleared his throat from the dining table.
"Viktor." The only other Esper among the Morozov siblings folded his arms behind his back. "Come, boy. We’ve got a lot to catch up on."
The latter blinked, eyes moving between the older man and his mother—who was too busy whispering something to Solomon about dinner before chuckling with her sister.
’Just great.’
★★★★★
Hale-Ferguson Residence
Ambrose sat cross-legged at the centre of his bed, the Black Mask already covering his face.
The sunlight from the setting sun filtered through the curtains, painting warm streaks across the bedroom floor while the muffled sounds of SpongeBob drifted faintly from Orion’s room further down the hall.
He slowly drew in a deep breath before exhaling just as steadily.
The mask responded almost immediately.
Pressure built behind his eyes until it became a dull ache that spread through his skull. It wasn’t the first time he’d entered the pocket dimension, yet the sensation never became any more pleasant.
Another pulse of pain struck him moments later, far sharper than the first.
His vision blurred, the bedroom disappearing in a heartbeat.
His body toppled sideways onto the mattress as his consciousness slipped away.
When Ambrose opened his eyes again, he was standing within the endless darkness of the Black Mask’s pocket dimension.
No sky or ground.
Just a vast empty black space stretching infinitely in every direction, so silent that even the sound of his own breathing felt foreign.
He glanced around.
"Hello?" His voice travelled surprisingly far before fading into nothingness. "You out there?"
For several seconds, there was only silence.
Then the darkness ahead rippled.
A familiar figure gradually stepped out from the void itself.
Future Ambrose.
He looked almost identical, save for the few extra years written into his face and the overwhelming aura surrounding him. There was no visible release of power, no spectacular display of aether.
Yet merely standing before him felt like standing before an endless ocean whose depths couldn’t possibly be measured.
The older Aether Hybrid folded his arms.
"You’re becoming rather accustomed to these occasional visits."
Ambrose couldn’t help smiling. "Nice to see you too."
The older version of himself merely shook his head with faint amusement.
"I assume," Ambrose began, "you’ve already seen everything happening outside."
"I have."
"So you know why I’m here."
"I do." Future Ambrose regarded him quietly before speaking again. "You’re doing quite well."
That answer caught Ambrose slightly off guard.
"Forging an alliance with the Pantheon this early was the correct decision. Becoming more involved with Hunter politics was equally necessary. You’ve made several decisions I delayed." He paused briefly. "I’m proud of how far you’ve come."
Ambrose scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. "Well... thanks. But we’ve got a problem. There’s an Archon on the loose, somewhere around Aurelia City."
Future Ambrose’s expression remained unchanged. "Yes."
"So how do we find her?"
"You don’t."
"...Excuse me?"
"If she wishes to remain unseen," the older Guide answered calmly, "finding her will be close to impossible."
Ambrose let out a dry laugh. "Wow. That’s incredibly reassuring."
"It wasn’t meant to reassure you."
"Fair enough." His expression gradually became thoughtful. "Orion had a vision yesterday. He saw a blonde woman. He never saw her face because the vision ended before she turned around." He studied Future Ambrose carefully. "Do you think that was the Archon?"
For the first time, the older man’s eyes shifted.
"In my timeline, the Archons rarely walked our world using forms of their own." He paused. "They required vessels. Human ones. Preferably individuals whose lives had already reached their natural conclusion."
"...People who were supposed to die?"
"Exactly."
Silence settled between them.
Then Future Ambrose spoke again.
"They used these vessels when trying to negotiate taking Orion or me as one of their permanent hosts."
Ambrose lowered his gaze, countless thoughts colliding inside his head.
"So we’re looking for someone," he murmured slowly, "who should already be dead."
His breathing caught.
The LA hotel. The blood. The man who was killed at a club.
His eyes widened as scattered pieces suddenly began fitting together.
"We’ve been looking for the killer..." he whispered. "Instead of asking who the victim really was."