Breathing hard, Victor set down his sword.
Sweat plastered his ponytail to the back of his neck; aches twisted through his muscles like blunt knives. But at long last, he'd finished his task.
His armor lay on the floor before him, the pieces arranged neatly. Ever since his last battle with the homunculus knight, he had spent every daily maintenance session feeding the armor an extra dose of Levia. His usual preparations already left him lightheaded and short of breath; having to give even more took a brutal toll.
But he had no choice. His armor had taken quite a beating from that fight, after all. None as much as his sword, which the homunculus had sliced clean in half.
Indeed, the damage was so severe Victor hadn't succeeded in fixing it until now. No matter how much Levia he poured into the weapon each day, the jagged line where the two halves joined remained stubbornly stark. He just didn't have enough to repair everything in one go; if he tried, he knew it would end with him a drained husk.
So frustrating. Without the sword, Victor had no means of fighting. Of fulfilling his missions for the Infernal Legion.
He ran his hand along the blade, satisfied by how smooth and solid the metal felt throughout. Even in the dimly lit room, its matte black surface stood out like a slice of pure darkness.
The sword's Levia stirred beneath his fingertips, reaching up toward him. It felt like slimy hands grasping from the depths of the sea. Victor bit his lip, hissing out a curse. "That's all for today. Don't be greedy."
The Levia retreated, but he didn't imagine the tinge of disappointment to it. Which made Victor annoyed. No matter how much he gave it, his armor never seemed to have its fill.
It wouldn't be satisfied until it siphoned all the Levia out of his body, he suspected. But that wasn't going to happen anytime soon. Not as long as he still needed to fight.
Though admittedly, these past few weeks he hadn't been doing much of that. Upon taking over, Greisen had as good as sidelined Mirage and Victor. His own troops he sent on frequent missions, but Mirage he delegated to an endless stream of administrative tasks.
Mirage was furious about it, of course. He seethed so often his rants filled Victor's dreams. No doubt he was spinning an elaborate plan to dethrone Greisen and retake command, but so far Victor hadn't the faintest idea what it might be.
Oh well, it didn't concern him. All he needed to do was follow Mirage's orders when the time came.
Right now, Mirage was still asleep. Which made sense, considering the absolute bender he'd gone on with a bunch of other models last night. As Mirage drifted from bar to bar and became increasingly inebriated, Victor had tried to stick close to him, but around three in the morning he had practically shoved Victor onto the street and ordered him to "stop infecting me with your boring vibes."
An order was an order, so Victor had gone home. Mirage had returned about an hour ago, where he'd promptly thrown up in the toilet then flung himself into bed.
Which did, perhaps, cause Victor some concern. Mirage liked to party hard with his groupies, but he usually possessed a little more prudence. This might be the first time Victor had ever seen him blackout drunk.
Maybe he was reading too much into it, but he wondered if Mirage wasn't throwing himself into his fun as Michel Rose in order to forget his actual lack of status.
Well, it had nothing to do with Victor. Mirage would probably be furious to know Victor was fretting this much over him. And it wasn't like Victor was actually worried or anything. Just...he would simply prefer his commander retain his full judgment.
Sighing, Victor bent down to set the sword on the floor. Next, he'd have to store his armor into its portable crystal, but his Levia still sputtered weakly and his head had begun pounding. 'Just for a moment,' he told himself, burying his face behind his palms.
Maybe he ought to go to sleep too. Sitting idle didn't please him, but he needed to get his energy back up.
For a while Victor cupped his face in his hands, relaxing in the satisfying darkness. Then he became aware of a sound from somewhere nearby – a dull, steady buzz.
Victor's hands slipped away, knuckles hitting the bed with dull thumps. On the nightstand, his phone was vibrating.
Strange. Who could possibly be calling him? Mirage was in the same building, so if he wanted anything he'd have no problem storming into Victor's room. A spammer, then? Or maybe Imago had gotten in trouble with the law again.
Sighing, Victor reached for the phone. He didn't recognize the number, so he made to dismiss the call. But for some reason, something about it nagged at his memory.
Carefully, he lifted the phone to his ear. "Hello?"
A sharp breath blasted across the line, like a sigh of relief. Then came a voice that dropped Victor's heart into his stomach.
"So this is your number after all. I was afraid it might be Michel Rose's or a burner phone or something like that."
"Th…." Victor choked on the name. Coughing, he tried again. "Theo?"
Some dry part of him supposed this might have been how Theo had felt when he had called him around a month ago. But most of him was too astonished to do any thinking.
At that time, Mirage had dug up Theo's number and Victor had called it to spring their trap. Of course his number would remain in Theo's call history. Why wouldn't Theo take advantage of it to contact him?
But why now?
"Victor?" Theo's voice came again, a little more querulous. "This is you, right?"
Victor cleared his throat. "Yes. It's me."
"Good." Theo exhaled. "There's something I need to talk with you about."
"Talk with me," Victor said slowly. Despite himself, his heart had begun thudding violently against his ribcage. "And why, exactly?"
"Yeah, I guess you'd be suspicious. I might be luring you into a trap, right?" The sardonic edge to Theo's voice almost made Victor wince. "But don't worry, I'm not like you."
Victor gripped the phone so hard his entire arm began to shake. Damn it, he had to loosen up before he damaged it...but all his muscles had locked in place. The ache in his chest now had nothing to do with his exhaustion.
Maybe...Theo wanted to...to apologize. Maybe he'd spent the month mulling over everything Victor had told him, and realized that he'd been wrong. Now he wanted to make amends….
Victor's breath caught. He had never hated himself more.
The next thing Theo said wiped every ridiculous fantasy out of his head.
"I think you'll come when you hear what I want to discuss. You see, Victor...I've got a few questions to ask you about Mom."