Another week had ground past.
The Guild of America's relentless rhythm etching itself into Nova and Adam's bones. Adam had sharpened his Adaptive Hide turning him into a scrappy beast against holographic Beastaria wolves.
His knack for mimicking claws, fangs, or hardened skin made him a terror against three or four wolves, but his power's time limit—brief bursts of adaptation—left him gasping against ten, his single pillar a flickering badge of potential.
Nova, still unawakened, felt his Circle of Pillars itch like a fresh burn, the golden circles on his hand pulsing, whispering that his ability was close, demanding just a sliver more patience.
Nova sprawled on his lumpy apartment bed, the blanket kicked aside, his body aching from training that pushed him to the edge. His martial arts neared mastery, rivaling Marcus's D-rank precision, his movements so swift he could almost predict an opponent's next strike, like he was peering into the future.
His crimson eyes were shut, a wide grin splitting his face as Freya's voice, soft and teasing, echoed in his mind, unheard by the city's gritty hum outside.
In a heartbeat, Nova's eyes snapped open, and he stood in Freya's golden chambers, High Heaven's starlight bathing the room in a warm glow. Freya, her golden hair spilling over silken robes, leaned against the right side of the bed, her golden eyes glinting with a sly grin that screamed mischief and longing.
Nova strode to her, his scuffed leather jacket and rune-etched boots stark against the celestial sheen. He pulled her into a hug, lifting her effortlessly until she and her pregnant belly rested atop him, her laughter a melody in the quiet.
They kissed, a fierce, tender clash, and Nova gently lowered her to the bed, her body curling into his, her head nestled on his chest. Her warmth anchored him, the faint heartbeat of their unborn child a quiet pulse beneath her silken skin.
He broke the silence, his voice rough but soft: "You thought of names yet, Freya? Any sounding good?"
Freya tilted her head, her chin on his chest, eyes sparkling like she was watching a damn rom-com. "Still a work in progress," she said, her tone playful, teasing. "You? Got any bright ideas, or you too busy playing mortal hero?" Her grin widened, daring him to impress her.
Nova shrugged, his jacket creaking, a smirk tugging at his lips. "A couple," he said, his voice low. "If it's a girl, Aurora, cause she'll shine like her mom. If it's a boy, Mateo, heard it means gift from a god, so I'm giving you one, as a god." He paused, then corrected himself, his grin sheepish. "Former god, I mean."
Freya pushed up, her golden eyes narrowing, a spark of divine fire in them. "Former god, my ass," she said, her voice sharp but laced with affection. "Your divinity's locked right here, in my chambers, where only you or I can touch it. You're still a god, Nova, just slumming it with mortals for kicks." She poked his chest, her touch firm, her grin softening to something fierce and proud.
Nova laughed, a gritty chuckle that echoed in the starry room. "Slumming it, huh? You make it sound like I'm crashing in a dumpster," he said, his crimson eyes glinting. "My divinity's on ice, sure, but I'm earning my stripes down there. You should see me dodge Marcus's batons, practically art." He flexed his arm, mock-bragging, his smirk pure cockiness.
Freya rolled her eyes, her hair catching the starlight as she shifted, her belly brushing his side. "Art, he says," she teased, her voice dripping with mock scorn. "You're dodging sticks while I'm weaving galaxies. Step up your game, or I'll name the kid after Apollo just to mess with you." Her grin was wicked, her eyes dancing with the threat, knowing how much Nova loathed the God of Light.
Nova groaned, his head dropping back against the bed. "Low blow, Freya," he said, his tone half-laughing, half-horrified. "Apollo? I'd rather name the kid after a Beastaria wolf. At least they've got spine." He pulled her closer, his hand resting on her belly, the heartbeat beneath a quiet reminder of what tethered them across realms.
She snuggled into him, her voice softening but still playful. "Keep talking big, mortal boy," she murmured, her breath warm against his chest. "But you better awaken that ability soon, or I'll drag you back here to change diapers as punishment." Her laugh was a bright spark, her love a steady flame in the celestial glow.
Nova smirked, his eyes glinting with defiance. "Diapers? I'd rather fight a dungeon full of wolves," he said, his voice rough but warm. "Just wait, I'll awaken, and then you'll be begging me to show off." His words were bold, but the itch in his circles lingered, a nagging promise of power yet to come.
---
A couple of hours had slipped by, the morning's celestial glow from Freya's chambers now a distant buzz in Nova's head. He sat in Marcus's office, a cramped space cluttered with glowing tablets and maps of Beastaria rifts, the air thick with the faint tang of coffee and old leather.
Adam slouched beside him, his glasses fogged, his single black pillar pulsing faintly on his hand, a quiet badge of his Adaptive Hide. Marcus leaned against his desk, his single diagonal line sigil barely visible, his grizzled face lit with a rare spark of excitement.
"Today's special, you little shits," Marcus said, his voice rough as gravel, a grin tugging at his weathered lips. "No training with humans, you're facing real Beastaria wolves in an F-rank dungeon. You two clear it alone, no hand-holding, then drag your asses back here." He jabbed a finger at them, his tone blunt. "I've got a meeting, so I don't have time for your fucking yapping. Work as a team, or get eaten."
Nova shrugged, his voice flat but his crimson eyes glinting. "Sure," he said, his leather jacket creaking, his pillarless golden circles itching like a fresh burn.
Adam opened his mouth, but no words came, his face pale, nerves choking him. His first time in a real dungeon, in Beastaria's wilds, sent his heart racing, fear and excitement tangled in his gut, his hands trembling despite his F-rank status.
Marcus clapped his hands, the sound sharp in the small office. "Alright, my assistant will show you the way," he said, his grin turning playful. "I'm off to my meeting, wish me luck." He winked, already halfway out the door, his boots thudding on the polished floor.
"Fuck no," Nova shot back, a smirk cracking his face, his way of wishing luck without saying it. His crimson eyes danced with amusement, knowing Marcus got the message.
Marcus chuckled, a low, gritty sound. "Thanks, you prick," he said, vanishing down the hall, his D-rank presence fading into the guild's chaos.
The office fell quiet, save for the hum of a holographic map flickering on the wall, showing rifts where Beastaria bled into Earth.
Three people remained: Nova, Adam, and Marcus's assistant, a woman standing by the door like a damn secret agent.
Her black suit hugged her frame, crisp and professional, paired with sleek black spy glasses that hid her eyes. Light-brown hair, silky and slightly curled, fell past her shoulders, giving off a faint lavender scent that cut through the office's stale air. Her green eyes, sharp and unreadable, flicked between them, her tanned skin hinting at South American roots—Colombian, maybe, her accent a soft lilt that didn't sound local. She looked twenty-two at most, her build toned, like she hit the gym hard but didn't brag about it.
"Come with me," she said, her voice cool, all business, as she turned toward the door, her heels clicking on the floor.
Adam's eyes locked on her, his glasses slipping, his stare glued to her hair, its smooth curls bouncing with each step. He'd been sneaking glances at her since meeting Marcus, never catching her name, just "Assistant" in Marcus's gruff shorthand.
Nova noticed, his smirk widening like a street hustler spotting an easy mark. He slung an arm around Adam's shoulders, pulling him close as they followed her out. "Yo, Glasses, you gonna keep mooning over her hair, or actually say something?" he teased, his voice low and gritty, his crimson eyes glinting with mischief. "That lavender's got you hypnotized, huh? Bet you're writing her name in your head already."
Adam's face burned, his sneakers squeaking as he tried to shrug off Nova's arm, his voice a flustered stammer: "Sh-shut up, Nova," he muttered, pushing his glasses up, his single pillar flickering. "I'm not… I'm just… it's nothing." His eyes darted to the assistant's back, her suit sharp against the guild's flickering lights, but his shyness clamped his mouth shut, his courage buried under nerves.
Nova laughed, a sharp, barking sound, keeping his arm firm around Adam. "Nothing, my ass," he said, his tone dripping with amusement. "You're practically drooling, kid. She's, what, twenty-two? Shoot your shot, or I'll tell her you're in love with her curls." He ruffled Adam's hair, dodging a weak swat, his grin pure trouble.
Adam's voice dropped to a hiss, his face redder than a Beastaria wolf's eyes. "I'm not talking to her, okay?" he said, his words rushed, his eyes avoiding Nova's. "She's… she's way out of my league, and I'd just… screw it up." He adjusted his glasses, his hands shaky, his focus back on the assistant's lavender-scented hair, a quiet crush he'd never admit.
The assistant, oblivious or ignoring them, led them through the guild's bustling atrium, where mages sparked flames and adventurers bartered over bounties. Her heels clicked, her posture straight, like she could snap a neck and file a report without blinking.
"Keep up," she called, her accent curling around the words, her voice cutting through the noise.
Nova nudged Adam, whispering, "Bet her name's something spicy, like Sofia," but Adam just shook his head, too shy to even guess.
They stepped outside, the August air gritty with city dust, the guild's red-lettered sign glaring overhead. A sleek black car waited, its engine humming, its tinted windows reflecting the neon sprawl. The assistant opened the back door, her spy glasses catching the light.
"Get in," she said, her tone flat, no room for banter. Nova slid in first, his jacket creaking, while Adam hesitated, his eyes flicking to her before scrambling in, his glasses fogging again.
She took the driver's seat, her movements precise, and the car peeled out, weaving through the city's chaos toward the F-rank dungeon. The streets blurred past with vendors shouting, horns blaring, and the distant pulse of a Beastaria rift thrumming in the air.
Nova leaned back, his circles itching, while Adam stared out the window, his crush on the assistant a silent weight, the dungeon's promise looming ahead.
Minutes ticked by, the black car slicing through the city's gritty pulse, its engine a low growl beneath the honks and shouts of the urban sprawl. Nova slouched in the back seat, his crimson eyes scanning the neon-lit streets, his golden circles itching like a fresh scab.
Adam sat rigid beside him, his glasses fogged, his single black pillar pulsing faintly, his nerves a tight knot as he stole glances at the assistant's silhouette in the driver's seat. Her light-brown curls, laced with that damn lavender scent, bounced with each turn, and Nova smirked, catching Adam's stare but keeping his mouth shut for once.
The assistant's voice cut through the hum, crisp and all business, her Colombian accent adding a sharp edge. "Listen up," she said, her green eyes flicking to them in the rearview mirror, her black spy glasses now perched on her head. "This is an F-rank dungeon, so expect wolves, nothing else. Beastaria wolves, five to six at most, no bigger than a large dog." She steered with one hand, her black suit crisp despite the city's heat, her tone leaving no room for screw-ups.
She glanced back, her gaze pinning them like a drill sergeant. "You clear the first checkpoint, that's it," she continued, her voice firm. "Do not go past the restricted zone beyond it, where E-rank to D-rank monsters lurk—goblins, maybe a low-tier drake. You hit the checkpoint, you turn back, and you haul to the guild." Her words were blunt, her tanned face unreadable, like she'd seen too many rookies bite off more than they could chew.
Nova nodded, his smirk faint but cocky, his leather jacket creaking as he shifted. "Got it, wolves only, no hero shit past the first stop," he said, his voice gritty, his crimson eyes glinting with a mix of thrill and impatience.
F-rank wolves? I'll tear through 'em, pillars or not, he thought, his circles burning, urging him toward the fight. Adam's nod was shakier, his hands clenched, his F-rank pillar a quiet spark against his nerves, excitement and fear slugging it out in his gut.
The car slowed, pulling up to a chain-link fence on the city's edge, where a shimmering rift pulsed, its edges crackling with Beastaria's wild energy. The assistant killed the engine, stepping out with a click of her heels, her suit stark against the rift's eerie glow.
She opened their door, her expression cold. "Out, now," she said, pointing to the rift. "First checkpoint, then back. Don't make me come in after you."
Nova slid out, his boots hitting the gravel with a thud, while Adam scrambled after, his sneakers crunching, his glasses slipping. They stood before the rift, its surface rippling like a storm-tossed lake, the air thick with the scent of damp fur and ozone.
Nova's grin sharpened, his hand flexing, while Adam swallowed hard, his pillar glowing faintly. They stepped forward, crossing the threshold into the dungeon, the rift swallowing them whole.