Zhuo walked with an easy stride, hands tucked lazily into his pockets as he followed behind Captain Seraphine through the ruined cityscape. His posture was relaxed—almost too relaxed for a man being escorted in for questioning—but inside, his mind was sharp, constantly analyzing, calculating.
He wasn't underestimating her. No, that wasn't it at all.
If anything, she was impressive.
Not in the way that divine beings or eldritch horrors were impressive, no.
Seraphine was mortal.
Her existence was bound by time, her flesh fragile, her life fleeting. She would die one day.
All mortals did—unless they ascended.
And ascension?
That was no easy feat.
There were countless civilizations spread across the cosmos, countless beings who lived and died without ever touching the divine. Mortals clung to their weapons, their magic, their fleeting moments of power, but in the grand scheme of things?
They were temporary.
Zhuo knew this better than anyone.
After all, he had been mortal once too.
A long, long time ago.
But not anymore.
Not even close.
He watched Seraphine from the corner of his eye.
She wasn't just strong. She was unshaken.
And that made her… interesting.
Even now, she moved with precision—each step measured, her posture rigid yet efficient, like a blade honed over countless battles.
And speaking of blades…
His gaze flickered to the weapon at her waist.
A sword.
A beautiful one, at that.
Unlike the mass-produced weapons of common soldiers, this sword was crafted. Its hilt was wrapped in deep obsidian leather, worn but well-maintained, a sign of constant use. The scabbard bore faint etchings—runes that pulsed subtly, binding something unseen within its blade.
'A sword like that isn't carried by someone who doesn't know how to use it.'
He almost wanted to see her draw it.
Not to fight her. Just to see.
Because he had long since learned that a person's sword spoke more than their words ever could.
His respect for her ticked up a notch.
Not that he'd say it out loud, of course.
Instead, he let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head.
'Mortals and their weapons… clinging to steel like it could ever truly defy fate.'
He had seen it a thousand times in countless civilizations.
Mortals wielding their swords, their spells, their fragile hopes—fighting against forces far greater than them, against a universe that didn't care whether they lived or died.
And time and time again, they fell.
Because in the end, no matter how strong, how fast, how skilled… they were still bound by time.
Zhuo's gaze lingered on Seraphine for a second longer.
She, too, would die one day.
It was inevitable.
Yet here she was. Strong. Unyielding. Carrying a sword like she could stand against the heavens themselves.
It was almost admirable.
But also... a little funny.
"Mortals."
Always fighting battles they were never meant to win.
Seraphine must have sensed his amusement because she suddenly spoke, her voice sharp.
"Are you going to keep staring at me, or do you actually plan to answer my question?"
Zhuo blinked.
Ah. Right.
He had been staring.
Not in a creepy way, of course. More in a philosophical, 'pondering-the-futility-of-mortal-existence' kind of way.
But still, he could see how that might've been weird.
He grinned. "Sorry, sorry. I was just thinking."
Seraphine's silver eyes narrowed. "That doesn't answer my question."
He sighed dramatically. "Fine, if you must know—I was just admiring your dedication to your job, Captain. Very professional. Very intimidating. You'd make a great guard do—"
Seraphine's hand went to her sword.
Zhuo immediately backpedaled.
"—AH, I MEAN, you're very competent! Strong, capable! One of the best, really!"
Seraphine's eyes remained locked on him, her fingers still resting on the hilt of her blade.
For a moment, silence stretched between them.
Then, with the smallest movement, she unsheathed just an inch of her sword— and a sharp, lethal pressure filled the air.
Zhuo felt it immediately.
Ah.
So that's what kind of blade it was.
Not just sharp in the physical sense. No.
This was a weapon that carried intent.
A sword wielded by someone who had no hesitation in cutting down her enemies.
Zhuo blinked. Then he grinned. "Okay. Not bad."
Seraphine didn't react at first. Then, she exhaled slowly, sliding the blade back into its sheath with a soft click.
"…Not bad?" she repeated, her tone icy.
"Yeah, you know. Not completely useless. Not utterly pathetic—"
Seraphine's hand twitched toward her sword again.
"—AH, I MEAN, you're very competent! Strong, skilled! One of the best, really!"
She stared at him.
Zhuo very quickly changed the subject.
"But hey, while we're on the topic—what's someone like you doing in a place like this, anyway?"
Seraphine's eyes narrowed, but she let the previous comment slide.
"You're the one trespassing," she reminded him. "Shouldn't I be the one asking questions?"
Zhuo sighed. "Fair point."
A pause.
Then, in a slightly softer voice, he muttered, 'For a mortal, though… not bad.'
Seraphine said nothing.
Instead, she turned on her heel and started walking again, her long cloak billowing behind her.
Zhuo watched her for a moment before shaking his head with a smirk and following after her.
"Mortals."
They always had a way of surprising him.
The further they walked, the more the ruins around them began to shift. It was subtle at first. The remnants of buildings, though collapsed, no longer looked entirely abandoned. Old security barriers, rusted and corroded, showed signs of recent activation. The further they went, the clearer it became—this part of the city wasn't as dead as the rest.
Then, he saw it.
Half-buried beneath the ruins of the city, the headquarters was an imposing monolith of reinforced metal and concrete, a fortress hidden within the bones of the fallen metropolis. Unlike the rest of Evernight, this place pulsed with energy, a silent but undeniable declaration that life still thrived within its walls.
A heavily guarded entrance stood at the base of the structure, flanked by tall, weathered barriers designed to withstand attacks from creatures far beyond the capabilities of ordinary humans.
At a glance, it looked like just another relic of the past, but Zhuo could sense the layers of defensive measures woven into its foundation.
"Well, would you look at that," he mused, his tone light. "A bunker in the middle of the apocalypse. How original."
Seraphine didn't humor him with a response.
Instead, she marched forward, raising her hand.
Without hesitation, the massive steel gates in front of them came to life, glowing with a dull blue light as layers of security systems activated in quick succession.
A loud, mechanical hiss filled the air as the gates slowly split apart, revealing a dark corridor leading inside.
The moment Zhuo stepped past the threshold, he was greeted by an entirely different world.
The interior of the headquarters was a stark contrast to the decaying ruins outside. Bright, artificial lights illuminated the massive underground structure, casting a pale glow over walls lined with advanced technology, screens, and displays.
Holographic maps flickered with real-time data, detailing surrounding mana concentrations, active rifts, and movement patterns of dangerous entities.
The faint hum of energy buzzed beneath his feet, the underground facility alive with a presence that was neither warm nor cold—just efficient.
Rows of personnel moved in synchronized coordination, their uniforms crisp, their movements precise. They were awakeners, soldiers, analysts—every one of them playing a part in keeping what remained of Evernight's defenses intact.
Zhuo took it all in with mild amusement.
"So, you've got all this fancy tech and a whole army at your disposal," he said, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "And yet, you still abandoned the city. Hell of a strategy."
Seraphine shot him a warning glare, her patience visibly wearing thin. "Keep walking."
He chuckled but complied, allowing her to lead him deeper into the complex.
At the end of a long corridor, they reached a reinforced door, its surface engraved with sigils that pulsed faintly with energy. With a quick scan of her identification, Seraphine unlocked the door, and it slid open with a sharp hiss.
Zhuo stepped inside and immediately raised an eyebrow.
The room was cold, barren, and painfully uninspired.
A single metallic table sat in the center, surrounded by stiff chairs that looked like they were specifically designed to make people uncomfortable. The walls were smooth, devoid of decoration, save for a large observation mirror that he could already tell had at least a dozen people watching from the other side.
"A bit cliché, don't you think?" Zhuo mused, tilting his head. "No welcoming drinks? No comfortable seating? What happened to hospitality?"
Seraphine gave him a deadpan stare.
"Sit."
Zhuo sighed dramatically before pulling out a chair and sitting down with the grace of someone who absolutely did not respect the setting.
Seraphine, still standing, leaned forward slightly, resting both hands on the table as she studied him.
"You're going to answer my questions," she stated, her tone leaving no room for argument.
Zhuo smirked, tilting his head. "Or what?"
Her silver eyes darkened. "Or I'll make you."
Zhuo whistled lowly, mock-impressed. "That's some serious main-character energy you've got there."
Seraphine inhaled deeply through her nose, as if gathering the last strands of patience she had.
Zhuo just smiled.
Oh, this was going to be fun.