H.A.R.M. Headquarters, Seattle.
Two ambulances drew to a halt at the side entrance.
"Miss Noa, shall we take Mr. Ethan home?" Stewart Atzmon inquired, his voice thick with concern as he disembarked.
"The injuries are external," Noa Atzmon replied, her tone resolute. "Let's take him to H.A.R.M. clinic. Dr. Bai's skill is unmatched; he'll ensure no scars remain."
Noa understood her brother's temperament all too well. He bristled at any mention of his family's influence, loathed the implication that his accomplishments were merely a product of the Atzmon name... an inconvenient truth, nonetheless. Without their covert protection, his recklessness would have claimed his life countless times over.
The more others whispered behind his back, the more fiercely he sought to prove them wrong.
And the more impulsive he became, the more frequently the Atzmon family was forced to intervene, to sweep his missteps under the rug.
The recent sea beastvamp incident was a prime example. Even after several agents had vanished, their blood-encrusted badge had been found, and despite the dire shortage of manpower, he had refused to request aid from other majors. Instead, he had stubbornly charged into the fray, driven by a foolhardy desire to seize glory.
If not for Kane, an unforeseen variable in the vampires' carefully laid plans, they would have met a gruesome end in Temple Village.
He had emerged with mere external injuries, a miracle he should be celebrating with hymns of gratitude.
"A month confined to his bed might instill some much-needed introspection," Noa mused, a flicker of exasperation crossing her features.
Hearing this, Stewart offered a helpless explanation, "Mr. Ethan was once far more composed. But first, Max Vierkant, his longtime rival, was chosen as the admiral's disciple... then came the turmoil in Pinewood County... It's no wonder he's been on edge."
His gaze drifted towards the figure ahead, a hint of admiration in his eyes. He couldn't deny that Ethan's agitation stemmed from more than just this guy's proximity to Colonel Hightower. Kane's raw power, given time to mature, would undoubtedly elevate him to a position of influence rivaling Max Vierkant's.
Both hailed from humble beginnings. Max Vierkant had caught the admiral's eye after single-handedly battling a Wave Realm Perfection vampire, a feat that propelled him to the rank of three-star major.
Kane's accomplishment, while slightly less impressive on the surface - the sea vampire he'd slain was exhausted - was arguably more remarkable. His realm was significantly lower than Max's, making his victory all the more astonishing.
The weight of this realization settled upon Stewart as he shook his head, a flicker of sympathy crossing his face for Ethan Atzmon, swathed in bandages like a mummy. He turned and entered the building, summoning assistance to transport the wounded pair into the heart of H.A.R.M.
… …
"This way, Agent Kane. Your reward awaits." Noa's playful gesture beckoned me forward.
Under her guidance, I soon found myself at the entrance of Mission Control.
The usually bustling agents, their eyes drawn to the blood-soaked uniform and the potent demonic aura clinging to me, involuntarily slowed their pace, their gazes filled with a mixture of awe and admiration.
Coincidentally, a two-star captain emerged from within, his demeanor shifting from brisk efficiency to respectful deference. He bowed slightly, his voice carrying a note of genuine congratulation, "Congratulations on your victory, agents."
The sudden attention made me acutely self-conscious. I nodded in acknowledgment, a simple "Thank you" escaping my lips.
I followed Noa Atzmon into the office. My eyes were immediately drawn to the gleaming counter that dominated the space. Behind it sat a man and a woman, both clad in distinctive black uniforms adorned with golden eagle sigils instead of stars on their shoulders and sleeves. The two golden eagles adorning their sleeves indicated their rank as captains.
Their smiles were polite, but their bearing exuded an air of innate nobility, a subtle reminder of their elevated social standing.
Noa Atzmon slid a document from the Seamist County executive office across the counter, her voice crisp and efficient. "All agents dispatched to observe the ceremony have perished. Two Wave Realm vampires were involved—they were utterly obliterated."
The news of fallen comrades elicited no sorrow from the Containment Division girl. Instead, her smile widened, genuine warmth radiating from her. Clearly knowing the Atzmon siblings, she exclaimed, "Ethan's promotion to Lieutenant Colonel is assured! I'll have to address him as 'sir' from now on."
The other Purge Division agents shot her icy glares but dared not to say anything.
Noa Atzmon's expression remained impassive, she had no intention of chatting with her. "Then you'll have to wait a few more months," she stated coolly. "in the meantime, please examine the document carefully."
"Hold on," the man's voice crackled with disbelief as he scanned the report. "The primary credit is attributed to John Kane?"
While not entirely unprecedented, it was certainly unusual for the leader's recognition to be relegated to their subordinates.
Especially when Ethan Atzmon was a mere breath away from promotion.
His eyes narrowed as he continued reading. "You... annihilated the sea god of Seamist County?"
The man's head snapped up, his gaze finally settling on the silent young man standing behind Noa Atzmon.
A moment of stunned silence hung in the air before a sneer twisted his lips. "Your ability to mask your aura is commendable. I wonder where the old man of the Atzmon family unearthed such a treasure. By the book, you're due a promotion. As for your reward, martial arts or tunics?"
Finally, the moment of truth.
I stepped forward, my voice unwavering. "The Melting Sun Furnace Manual."
The words resounded through the room, shattering the air of mild condescension. The two behind the counter exchanged a stunned glance, a flicker of awe passing between them.
Requesting that training manual... he truly was a First Realmer.
Initially, they believed he was aiding Ethan Atzmon's advancement, but it turned out he was here to profit from the Atzmons.
What distinguished background could he possibly possess?
They quickly regained their composure, disappearing into the room behind the counter. Ten minutes later, they emerged, bearing a crisp new uniform, a meticulously copied training manual, and a bottle of pills.
"You can leave your old uniform at your residence; we'll arrange for its collection. This manual is a duplicate, prepared in advance for your convenience. As for the pills, standard H.A.R.M. protocol grants new recruits ten years' worth of medicinal baths already. Perhaps an exchange for Atherflex would be more beneficial?"
The woman's smile was warm as she placed the items on the counter.
The man produced another bottle from his pocket. "Those are from H.A.R.M., but consider this one a token of our goodwill."
Noa averted her gaze, anticipating my reluctance to accept the unsanctioned gift in her presence.
I accepted the offered items, but left the additional pills untouched. "Your generosity is appreciated," I said, my tone carefully neutral.
While I had no desire to forge alliances, there was no need for arrogance or disdain.
I turned and strode out of Mission Control, the weight of the Melting Sun Furnace Manual a comforting presence in my hands.
Noa followed, a playful lilt in her voice. "Are you so averse to entanglements with Seattle's elite families?"
I paused, turning to meet her gaze. "Such connections have their advantages," I admitted, "but I'm afraid if I use them too much, I'll have to change my surname."
The exchange of the ten-year medicinal bath for Atherflex was within regulations, yet their eagerness to accommodate and anticipate my needs hinted at something more. The offer to collect my old uniform and the pre-copied manual ...
For those with the right lineage, life's minor inconveniences were effortlessly smoothed away by an unseen hand.
The allure of such convenience was undeniable, but I knew that every favor carried a hidden cost.
"Why complicate matters?" Noa Atzmon stretched languidly, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "Ethan mentioned his desire to welcome you as an honored guest, even hinting at a potential match with a cousin. Maybe we could become family in the future."
I met her playful gaze, my response measured and deliberate. "I'd prefer keeping things strictly business."
"Such a spoilsport," Noa pouted playfully, turning to lead the way. "Let's get you settled in your quarters. The others will likely be recuperating at the medical clinic, so you'll have some solitude for a while."
Her tone remained light, but as she glanced back over her shoulder, her eyes narrowed subtly, a hint of something unreadable flickering in their depths.