The car became silent once more as they cruised above the skylines. The city was a silent, majestic beast below them. After a long while, during which the only sound was the hum of the vehicle, Astartes' curiosity got the better of him. He broke the silence with a question that had been percolating in his mind.
"Do you still engage in catacomb raiding, Zoom Glass?"
A shadow, as dark as the wound he would later reveal, crossed Zoom Glass's face. The light from the city below seemed to dim in the car. "I'm afraid not, esteemed superior," he replied, his voice flat, stripped of its earlier formal cheer. "My best days are behind me. The future of our world and our survival lies with young, talented and blessed geniuses such as yourself."
Astartes sensed the finality in Zoom Glass's tone, the unspoken pain of a story unfinished. He nodded, respecting the man's privacy, and turned his gaze back to the window, deciding not to probe further.
But Zoom Glass was ready to speak. Perhaps he saw a kindred spirit in Astartes, or perhaps he simply wanted to warn him. "I am a rare assault/administrative type ranker," he began, his voice taking on the cadence of a formal report. "My abilities are suitable for battle and administrative duties. My Inherent Skill {Zoom Glass} gives me exceptional insight over several miles as well as significant intellectual capacity. Finding the prospect of slaying Catacomb creatures and battling exhilarating, I engaged in Catacomb raiding in my youth, becoming a powerful Class D Ranker."
He paused, and the silence was heavier this time. The air grew thick with anticipation.
"Unfortunately," he sighed, his voice trembling almost imperceptibly. He reached for the collar of his crisp uniform, his fingers moving with a practised slowness. He parted his shirt to reveal a lean, scarred chest. Astartes, who had been leaning back in his seat, instinctively leaned forward, his brows furrowing in shock and morbid curiosity.
The sight was horrifying. In the middle of Zoom Glass's chest, where his heart should be, there was a literal, tiny, black, gaping wound. It wasn't a gash or a scar; it was a perfect, circular void, like a hole punched through reality itself. It seemed to absorb the ambient light, a piece of absolute nothingness embedded in the man's flesh. Around its edges, the skin was mottled and grey, like necrotic tissue that had failed to heal.
"I overestimated my ability, single-handedly challenging a Catacomb Lord. Although I killed it, I paid too great a price," he said, his voice distant, as if reliving the battle. The sheer arrogance of his youth, the thrill of the fight, the crushing blow of the monster's final attack—it was all there in his eyes. "Suffering near-lethal wounds that regressed my power back to Class F." He shook his head slowly, a bitter smile on his lips. "If not for my luck in getting saved by a passing Class B Healer, I should be dead."
The car fell into a profound, sombre silence.
The wound, a constant, aching sign of his fall from grace, was a testament to the cruel hierarchy of their world. It was a stark, physical lesson for Astartes: Power could be gained, and power could be devastatingly lost. Zoom Glass, a man who had once stood shoulder-to-shoulder with the very heroes the world now worshipped, was now reduced to a bureaucrat, his immense skill and wisdom shackled by a wound that refused to heal.
Astartes stared at the void in the man's chest, then met Zoom Glass's gaze. He saw no self-pity, only a grim acceptance and a deep, unyielding resolve. Zoom Glass had fallen from grace, but he was far from broken. He was now using his remaining power and his vast wisdom to serve the world in the only way he could, a dedicated man of the RA, ensuring the protection of the city he had once defended with his fist.
As the hovercar began its descent towards their destination, the lesson was not lost on Astartes. The path to power was fraught with peril, and the cost of failure could be eternal. The "opposite sides of the same coin" Zoom Glass spoke of were not just a philosophical concept; they were a tangible reality, a line in the sand that every Ranker had to choose to cross or defend. And for the first time, Astartes understood the true weight of the power that thrummed within him.
The hovercar began its gentle descent, the sleek vehicle cutting through the cool afternoon air as it approached a sprawling complex nestled atop one of the city's intermediate sky-levels. The lodging reflected the RA's prestige—an elegant fusion of classical architecture and modern magi-tech. Weathered stone pillars supported crystalline domes that pulsed with a soft, ethereal light. Lush vertical gardens cascaded down the building's facades, their bioluminescent flora casting dancing shadows across the landing platforms. The air here was cleaner, thinner, carrying the faint scent of day-blooming flowers from the gardens below.
Several Rankers moved about the premises with purposeful strides—some in combat gear fresh from missions, their armour scorched and dented; others in formal RA attire, clutching data-slates and conversing in hushed, urgent tones. The soft hum of energy barriers and the distant clang of training weapons echo from within the complex. It was a place of respite, but also of preparation—a staging ground for the looming crisis that hung over the city like a storm cloud.
The hovercar settled onto the landing pad with a barely perceptible thrum, its anti-gravity engines sighing as they powered down. The interior lights brightened, casting the cabin in a warm amber glow that chased away the dim, contemplative shadows of their journey.
Astartes turned to face Zoom Glass, his expression softened by a newfound respect that went beyond mere formality. The story of the man's fall from grace, the gaping void in his chest that was a permanent reminder of his sacrifice, had struck a chord deep within him. He rose from his seat and executed a formal bow, his upper body inclining with genuine reverence.
"Thank you for sharing your experience, Zoom Glass," Astartes said. "I will be extra cautious."
Zoom Glass's eyes widened in surprise, and he immediately raised his hands in a placating gesture. "Please do not bow, esteemed superior," he said hurriedly, though a warm smile spread across his weathered face. The formality of his words clashed with the genuine emotion flickering in his gaze. "I have made peace with it. I would like to think that I am doing my best as a senior staff member of the RA Branch here in this city. Hopefully, my efforts can aid you, heroes, in some way towards averting the crisis facing us."
The smile that accompanied his words was not one of bitterness or regret, but of quiet contentment. Zoom Glass studied the young man before him—the composed posture, the steady gaze, the calm confidence that belied his years. Astartes did not flinch at tales of catastrophe nor swell with arrogance at praise. He simply absorbed information, processed it, and moved forward with quiet determination.
'This one is different', Zoom Glass thought, his administrative mind cataloging the observation.
'He carries the weight of his purpose without being crushed by it. I can only hope he proceeds through life in this manner, that the world does not break him as it has broken so many others.'
The two men stood in companionable silence for a moment, then Astartes's demeanour shifted, his posture straightening as he transitioned from contemplative passenger to focused warrior.
"I shall meditate for a while, Zoom Glass. Kindly give me a moment."
Without ceremony, Astartes reached into the dimensional folds of his spatial storage—a subtle shimmer in the air around his palm—and withdrew a small leather satchel. The bag bulged with crystalline shapes that caught the light, casting prismatic reflections across the car's interior. He handed it to Zoom Glass, who received it with both hands, his administrative instincts immediately calculating the contents.
"One hundred and five low-grade and middle-grade attribute cores.When we arrive at the lodging, I will enter seclusion for a couple of hours. Kindly exchange those cores for me and arrange for my Class E equipment to be repaired. The ones that can't be saved, you can substitute them for other gear of similar strength or stronger."
He paused, locking eyes with the older man. The question that followed was simple, but it carried the weight of implicit trust.
"Can I rely on you?"
Zoom Glass felt a warmth spread through his chest—a sensation he had not experienced in years, not since his days as a young, brash D-Class Ranker charging headlong into Catacomb depths. This young Infinity Mage, a prodigy of tremendous potential, was placing his faith in a broken veteran. It was a gift more precious than any attribute core.
"Of course, esteemed superior Infinity Mage," Zoom Glass replied, his voice thick with emotion he quickly suppressed. He clutched the satchel to his chest, the crystalline cores shifting with a soft, musical chime. "Consider it done. I shall have our best technicians working overtime to restore your armor to the best condition possible."
His eyes, enhanced by his {Zoom Glass} inherent skill, had already catalogued Astartes's combat style during their brief journey. The way he moved, the distribution of weight, the subtle adjustments he made to accommodate his armour—all of it painted a picture of a fighter who valued agility over brute force.
"It would appear that you prefer donning lighter gear that maintains your manoeuvrability as well as defence," Zoom Glass continued, his administrative mind already churning through inventory lists and blacksmith contacts. "An uncommon battle warrior-mage style combination. I will keep that vision in mind as well."
Astartes's lips curled into a small, approving smile. The man's meticulousness was a balm to his frayed nerves. After the relentless battles, here was someone who could be trusted to handle the mundane but crucial details of survival.
"Excellent. Thank you, Zoom Glass."
With that, Astartes said nothing more. His eyes grew distant, his breathing deepening as he shifted his focus inward. The ambient noise of the city faded, replaced by the rhythmic pulse of his own heartbeat and the steady flow of mana through his meridians. He began the slow, deliberate process of recovery—cycling energy through his damaged pathways, accelerating the body's natural healing with the focused intent of his will. Minor wounds knit themselves together beneath his armour; fatigue bled away from his muscles like poison drawn from a wound.
Zoom Glass watched him for a moment, impressed by the young man's discipline. To enter a meditative trance so quickly, to shut out the world so completely—it was the mark of a veteran, not a novice. He made a mental note to expedite the equipment repairs personally.
The hovercar's door hissed open, admitting the cool air and the soft murmur of the lodging's courtyard. Zoom Glass stepped out first, moving with the quiet efficiency of a seasoned administrator. He paused at the threshold, turning to ensure Astartes was comfortable, then signalled to the waiting attendants.
Within moments, two junior RA staff members approached—young men in crisp uniforms, their faces eager to please. Zoom Glass handed them the satchel of cores with a series of whispered instructions that they scribbled furiously onto data-slates.
"Priority one," Zoom Glass murmured, his voice carrying the weight of his authority. "These cores are to be exchanged at the highest rate possible. No standard markups, no bureaucratic delays. Use my authorisation code if anyone questions it."
The attendants nodded, their eyes widening at the satchel's contents. One hundred and five attribute cores, even of low and middle grade, were a small fortune. The trust this young Infinity Mage had placed in Zoom Glass was astronomical.
"Secondly," Zoom Glass continued, "I need the inventory list for all Class E equipment currently in the armory. Light armor sets, mobility-focused enchantments. We need to assess what can be repaired and what must be replaced. I want our best technicians on this—Rusty, Kaelen, and the twins if they're available."
"Sir, the twins are currently contracted to..." one attendant began.
"Override it," Zoom Glass said flatly. "This comes directly from the Infinity Mage himself. Tell them I'll double their rate from my own discretionary fund if necessary."
The attendants exchanged glances, then nodded, scurrying off into the night with the urgency of soldiers receiving marching orders.
Zoom Glass turned back to the hovercar, watching Astartes through the polarised window. The young man sat motionless, a faint aura of energy flickering around his form like candlelight. He was a paradox—a weapon of tremendous potential, yet possessed of a humility that made him easy to trust.
'I've seen prodigies before, ' Zoom Glass thought, his gaze softening. 'I've seen them burn bright and fast, consumed by their own ambition or broken by their own arrogance. But this one... this one has the soul of a guardian.'
The breeze carried the scent of the blooming jasmine from the gardens, mixing with the subtle ozone tang of energy barriers. Rankers passed by the landing pad, some casting curious glances at the stationary hovercar and the senior administrator standing vigil beside it. Zoom Glass paid them no mind. His focus was singular.
He would see to it that Astartes's equipment was perfect. He would ensure the young man had every resource necessary to face the coming crisis. It was the least he could do for someone who had looked at a broken veteran and seen not a relic, but an ally worthy of trust.
And perhaps, in some small way, it would be Zoom Glass's redemption—a chance to serve the cause of justice not from the front lines, but from the shadows, ensuring that heroes like Astartes had the foundation they needed to stand tall against the darkness.
The hours stretched ahead, filled with the quiet hum of magi-tech and the distant echoes of training. In the lodging's armoury, technicians would soon be working through the day, their tools singing against enchanted metals as they laboured to restore Astartes's gear to pristine condition.
And in the quiet of his meditative trance, Astartes would recover his strength, unaware of the silent army of administrators, technicians, and attendants who had just been mobilised in service to his mission.
The crisis was coming. But for one night, the machinery of the RA turned smoothly, all because a young Infinity Mage had placed his trust in a broken veteran, and that veteran had chosen to rise to the occasion.