The car glided to a silent stop in front of a majestic hotel. The Saffron Spire lived up to its name—a modern fortress of glass and gold piercing the night sky. Yet, they didn't stop at the main entrance. The car slipped past the glimmering lobby, descending a private ramp that spiraled into the earth, deep into an underground parking level reserved for the most high-profile guests.
The engine fell silent. Aarav, the First Knight, was out of the car in an instant. He moved with the quiet, practiced grace of a predator, his masked gaze sweeping the garage, analyzing every shadow and corner for threats. Satisfied, he opened the back door.
The man inside stretched, letting out a long, weary yawn. His casual, nonchalant demeanor was a stark contrast to Aarav's taut vigilance. Together, they moved toward a concealed elevator, its polished steel doors blending seamlessly with the wall. A biometric scanner pulsed softly. Aarav placed a hand on it, and the doors opened with a quiet hum. The lift closed behind them, sealing them off from the world above.
They emerged on the 34th floor—a silent, exclusive domain rarely used. The hallway stretched before them, vast and dimly lit, doors spaced far apart, a testament to the privacy and luxury afforded to its occupants.
They walked along the plush carpet to door 3402. Aarav drew a key card from his jacket, sliding it into the reader. The lock clicked softly. He held the door open, stepping aside with a silent gesture.
"I need something to eat and drink," the man said, voice low, final.
"My duty is to remain until the others arrive in the morning," Aarav replied evenly. "It will be sent up immediately."
The man stepped inside. The suite was lavish, a sharp contrast to the sterile lab he had left behind. Golden light bathed the furniture, the perfectly made bed gleaming in soft warmth. He simply nodded, closing the door behind him. A long-awaited nap beckoned, yet he knew he was not alone.
He moved toward the bathroom, a sanctuary of marble and polished chrome. Warm water cascaded over him, a welcome shock after 150 years of stillness. He let it wash away the lingering chill of the cryogenic pod, the faint residue of a life paused.
Draped in a towel, he faced the full-length mirror. His reflection was both familiar and strange. A man in his mid-twenties, lean and powerful, with no trace of age, stared back. He ran a hand over his jaw, feeling the firm, unyielding skin. The last time he had seen himself, he was sixty, the body slowly succumbing to time despite his indomitable will. Now, it was perfect once more.
A quiet, satisfied smile touched his lips. He was ready.