Resolution (I)

  After around thirty minutes, Cyril was ready.

  Somehow, during that short timeframe he’d managed to pull off an impeccable feat of organization—not only had he showered, groomed himself properly and selected his outfit, he even found the time to snack on his hard-boiled breakfast before sprinting out the door.

  Perhaps he really was that adaptable, or maybe this was just a bad habit refined through dangerous proficiency. Nevertheless, there was no denying that his current appearance was sufficiently presentable.

  His tousled silver hair—styled and spiky—contrasted well with the dress shirt that embraced its white T-shirt counterpart underneath. The lower half of a tracksuit completed his attire in a seamlessly way, an appearance universally shared by most provisional hunters.

  He had those types of free-moving clothes stocked in both variety and variance, and that alone was enough to speak volumes about the kinds of situations he expected to get himself into when he wasn’t in uniform.

  The dorm’s parking lot was a small, scarcely populated space that seemed like it was simply tucked onto the building lot at the last minute, and for good reason. Babylon was an independent city state with its own laws, that went for driving and everything else.

  District Nine was a part of Ravenspurn—the sector reserved for educational facilities that ranged from middle schools to colleges, which meant that the sector as a whole barely catered to the age groups eligible for a license, so private vehicles were something of a rarity there.

  In their stead, various other means of public transport were made available to the large student cohort, and as a result of said motor vehicle rarity, automation was commonplace in this particular district, although it was still in the earlier phases.

  It didn’t take very long for Cyril to find Yelena in such an open place, and unsurprisingly she hadn’t been standing outdoors. As soon as he stepped onto the sectioned box of asphalt an all-black luxury vehicle revved its engine and slowly pulled up to his feet.

  The window rolled down just enough to reveal a bright pair of steel-grey irises glinting in the back seat. Their owner, sitting cool and dignified gave him a short once over, then narrowed her eyes contently.

  “So, Yelena where are we goi-”

  “Get in. We’ll talk on the way.” Yelena said simply, cutting him off. She clicked something on the door handle and directed the tinted window back into place with a low hum. To Cyril, her response still hung in the air, sounding more like a command than a request.

  He sighed a little, then scratched his head lightly.

  “Well, at least her attitude feels more natural now.” Cyril muttered to himself before opening the opposite door and sliding into the seat beside her. Without a word from his employer, the driver in the dark suit stepped on the accelerator and set the journey into motion.

  The metropolitan scenery passed by in a blur as the vehicle maintained a steady, almost deliberate pace. Nothing had been said amongst the vehicle’s three occupant’s, so Cyril had spent the entire time distracting himself from the loud silence by gazing out the tinted window.

  Impeccably clean streets, sleek modern skyscrapers and expertly cut clusters of car-sized pulse crystals dotted the outdoor view. These crystals that originated within Ziggurat’s dungeons did in fact have value, they were commonly used as sources of illumination but with some amount of industrial refinement they could even produce large quantities of electricity to be harnessed, however the ones that had been purposefully placed along street corners had long since lost their value.

  Pulse crystals were one of the most common resources obtained inside the dungeons and were excavated en masse after every successful dive. Even after the majority of their energy was depleted the giant, crystalized husks of mana were still put to good use for the sake of practicality and above all else, aesthetic.

  Once they could no longer produce electricity or act as a self-sustaining source of illumination, the pulse crystals were distributed throughout the city at regular intervals to act as a form of public decoration and entertainment.

  They couldn’t produce light on their own, but they could still emit it given enough input. All it took was for a deviant to imbue a small amount of their mana into them and within seconds the large crystals would literally come alive, glowing softly like rigid embers amid the starry night sky.

  It was a task so simple even a child could do it, which was one of the main reasons they were put on display in the first place. A subtle, albeit aesthetically pleasing way of getting citizens to exercise control over their power and unwind after a long day.

  At some point, this enamored quirk managed to cement itself as an official city-wide tradition. Seeing as they had the resources for it and all, not much was lost in terms of economic expenditure. If anything, recycling the pulse crystals in this manner was little more than a drop in the buck for Babylon’s administrative board.

  “Common courtesy dictates that I ought to put your new appearance aside for the moment, however since you’ll be teaming up with the young miss for this mission, please allow me to be blunt.” Yelena said, speaking up for the first time in almost an hour.

  Unsurprisingly, her cool tone hadn’t carried so much as a pang of affability in its intonation. In the rare instances when she posed a question, her elegant voice would always remain succinct and direct.

  “Ask away. It’ll help us pass the time.” Cyril tore his gaze away from the drifting scenery and settled his focus on the unyielding inquisitor.

  “The viral video that surfaced a few days ago, the one with that young deviant facing off against the infernal—was that you?”

  “Yes. I just so happened to run into the infernal as it escaped from the breach.”

  Yelena’s eyes slowly widened; the words left her visibly stiff from disbelief.

  “Are you saying that you, a D-rank deviant defeated that C-rank monster all by yourself?” she probed, straightening her posture.

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  “Oh, I’m not a D-rank anymore. I got promoted to C-rank recently. And as for your question...” his words trailed off, making way for the slight upwards curve of his lips.

  “...yeah, it’s just like you saw in that video— I managed to defeat it by the skin of my teeth. Even though my C.A.I has gone up some, I’m still not completely adjusted to the increased output yet.”

  He was trying to be as truthful as possible for the sake of transparency, although under the current circumstances half-truths were the most he could manage. Yelena was a veteran hunter, of course, so even though she had no grounds to dispute his claims outright, he opted to go the extra mile and include his newfound shortcomings.

  She would have an easier time accepting his story if he included both the ups and downs. Humans in general were often skeptical of anything that seemed too good to be true.

  “Your abilities were well above average for a D-rank during the assessment, but the level of skill you showed in that video was clearly of a different caliber. Since even the Chairman was in on this then I suppose that means you’ve officially ascended the ranks.”

  “More or less, although I’m still getting the gist of these new abilities. By the way, about Angelica’s condition....” He paused tentatively, searching for the right words while casting a conspicuous side eye.

  “She’s made a full recovery. We’re on our way to see her now. There’s no need for you to be so tame about this, you seem to have taken quite a liking to each other in that short period of time so I more or less expected that question from you.”

  “Really? I didn’t think our interaction came off that way.” said Cyril, his head tilting slightly in thought.

  “It’s the first time I’ve ever seen her hit it off with anyone that quickly. When she woke up, one of the first things the young miss asked me about was your condition.”

  Cyril took a moment to think back on their previous interactions. From his clumsy entrance on the scene to the dire situation they found themself in moments later, all of it was melded together in his mind as a blur, so his reflection ended up being a lot deeper than he intended.

  By the end of his brief recollection, the only thing he conclusively recalled for a fact was the girl’s immaculate swordplay. It was a strange feeling—he struggled to hold himself back from calling that magical dance of death "beautiful."

  “I see. I guess that gives me another reason to pay her a visit then.”

  “Despite how confident she usually seems, that girl worries more than she lets on. Angelica has this strange habit of overthinking every little thing. Bringing you along before the mission officially started was important for her peace of mind—and that’s also why I didn’t tell her in advance. If I had, she probably would’ve come up with a rehearsed excuse just to delay the inevitable.”

  “Oh? I wasn’t expecting that you to be the genteel type Yelena.”

  “Hardly.” Yelena counter with a slow shake of her pale-colored bangs. “I’m simply a professional.”

  Upon turning to face Yelena again, Cyril’s vision strayed on a peculiar sight he hadn’t thought possible before. It was faint, but he felt certain about what he saw just now. The corners of Yelena’s lips had curved upwards, ever-so-slightly. It was a common gesture one could find just about anywhere, but until now a part of him wasn’t sure this woman was capable of doing something so...human.

  For that one, tiny fraction of an instant, Yelena had smiled.

  “I wasn’t expecting that.” he said dubiously, his gaze drifting uncontrollably. Alas, the rare expression didn't last very long and once Yelena registered his obnoxious expression, her unyielding visage swiftly returned to normal as if it had never even shifted in the first place.

  It made him feel a little disappointed.

  After witnessing what looked like an ultra-rare moment for a fraction of a second, he quickly realized the incredible potential hidden behind Yelena’s usual mask of cold indifference.

  With only her eyes, she somberly shifted her gaze over to him.

  “The Chairman told me what happened to you and the others after we left through the Virstone gate. It seems you went through quite the traumatic experience—far too steep of a price for a simple boost in your combat ability.”

  “So I’ve been told. I came pretty close to dying in there, the closest I’d ever been in my life. It’s not something I’d ever want to relive, but I did learn a lot from that situation.”

  Yelena’s brows arched patiently. She was finally giving him the full brunt of her attention. “I’m curious to know what kind of lesson you could have picked up on the verge of death.” she said, giving a small tilt of her head.

  “I wouldn't call it a lesson per se, it's more of a reminder—a reminder that I still have a long way to go. To that end, I’ve been sort of trying to frame it as a learning experience, otherwise it would only end up holding me back.”

  “...That’s surprisingly mature of you. Don’t you resent me—resent us for what I did?” asked Yelena, the pitch of her tone drooping with guilt.

  It didn’t take more than a moment of thought for Cyril to frame his answer. In light of the strange atmosphere of uncertainty around Yelena, he decided to respond in a way that would conclusively dispel those misconceptions.

  “I don’t resent you for it. That entire situation was an anomaly in the first place, everyone would jump at the first chance they got to escape even if it meant leaving others behind. You and Ralph played a huge role in protecting us for as long as you could even without the full extent of your abilities, so I don’t think it would be right for me to blame you for your decision to prioritize Angelica safety. I don’t have any right to.”

  “....”

  An odd silence dawned on them, broken only by the faint whooshing of the vehicle's air conditioner. For several seconds, Cyril did his best to appear unfazed.

  She got what I was trying to say...right?

  The loud silence even made his thoughts seem to echo.

  “I see. You certainly have a nuanced viewpoint on the issue, unlike what’s been going around in the media.” Yelena’s voice returned, this time brimming with conviction.

  “Each origin clan excels in one of the four deviant classes. The Regis clan, in particular has a long history of producing formidable Strikers blessed with unique skills—and Angelica is no exception. Her unique skill, Dragon Flare, grants her control over flames, which she seamlessly integrates with her Magna Arts. I have served her family for many years, and no matter how much time passes or how strong she may get, it will always be my sworn duty to safeguard her well-being, no matter the circumstances."

  Yelena stared straight at him as if to engrave those words into his soul. If she’d done this a few minutes ago, he might have felt a little intimidated, but that was no longer the case anymore. His opinion of the astute A-rank was slowly beginning to change, bit by bit.

  “Yeah, I think I understand you a little better now. Not entirely, but I do respect your dedication—you’ve sworn yourself to an incredible commitment. You have to be pretty amazing to pull off that kind of resolve Yelena; it really is admirable.”

  Yelena’s brows moved to arch, but instead relaxed before her facial features could contort. She looked as if she was about to say something important, but the words never came.

  She gave Cyril a small nod and re-aligned her posture while maintaining that same relaxed expression. Her eyes remained fixed on the approaching sight ahead.

  A large, luxuriously styled building that was unmistakably their destination.

  “I could say the same about you, Cyril Severin. It looks like we have a lot to learn about each other.”

  “I look forward to it.”

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