Nova cradled Elesch in his arms, her unconscious form limp, her face scorched from the fireball's brutal kiss. His eyes flicked to the Saint trailing close behind, her presence both a shield and a mystery. Though gratitude stirred within him, caution gripped tighter; he was still a stranger in China's heart, adrift in a land pulsing with unseen threats.
They crossed street after street, the silence between them a heavy shroud, its weight louder than the city's clamor. Beijing's downtown roared with life: vendors hawking steaming buns, horns blaring in chaotic symphony, neon signs flickering in the dusk. The energy was frenetic, a living beast of motion and noise, yet Nova and the Saint moved through it untouched, their silence a stark counterpoint to the urban chaos.
Their pace was relentless, purposeful, as if driven by an unspoken mission. They wove through the labyrinthine city, navigating alleys and boulevards with unerring precision, leaving no corner unexplored, their steps a quiet vow to outrun the shadows at their heels.
The Saint guided them toward a towering edifice that dominated the skyline: the Celestial Pinnacle, China's grandest five-star hotel, a monument to opulence and power. Its facade soared upward, a sleek blend of glass and steel that shimmered like liquid starlight, reflecting Beijing's frenetic pulse. Intricate gold filigree framed the entrance, where twin jade dragons, craved with meticulous detail, flanked a revolving door of polished obsidian. The lobby within was a cathedral of luxury: marble floors gleamed under chandeliers that dripped with crystal, each prism scattering light like a constellation brought to earth. Orchids in porcelain vases perfumed the air, and a grand staircase spiraled upward, its banisters inlaid with mother-of-pearl. The staff, clad in silk uniforms, moved with silent grace, their deference palpable, as the Saint strode past, Nova trailing with Elesch in his arms.
They crossed the lobby, drawing fleeting glances from guests draped in designer finery. The Saint led them to a private elevator, its doors etched with lotus motifs in gold. Inside, the walls were mirrored, reflecting their weary faces, and a soft chime marked their ascent. The elevator hummed, climbing to the hotel's pinnacle, where the Celestial Suite awaited, the epitome of extravagance, reserved for the elite.
The doors parted, revealing a suite that spanned the entire top floor, a realm of decadence bathed in soft light. Floor-to-ceiling windows offered a panoramic view of Beijing's glittering sprawl, the city's chaos reduced to a distant, twinkling tapestry.
The suite's interior was a symphony of elegance: plush velvet furniture in deep sapphire hues, accented with gold-threaded cushions; a polished rosewood dining table set with crystal stemware; and a chandelier that rivaled the lobby's, its light dancing across walls adorned with silk tapestries depicting ancient Chinese myths. A private terrace, fringed with bonsai trees and blooming jasmine, beckoned beyond glass doors, the night air carrying the faint hum of the city below.
The Saint gestured toward a sprawling bedroom, its king-sized bed draped in silk linens, a sanctuary of calm amidst the suite's grandeur. Nova carried Elesch to the bed, laying her gently on the pristine sheets, her scorched face stark against the pale fabric. The Saint's light shield lingered, its faint glow knitting their wounds with slow, deliberate warmth. She stood at the room's threshold, her brown eyes softening as she watched Nova brush a strand of hair from Elesch's face.
Nova's gaze met hers, exhaustion and gratitude warring in his expression. The silence held, heavy with unspoken questions, as the Saint's presence filled the room with a quiet strength.
"Make yourself at home," the Saint said, her Japanese accent soft yet assured, as she crossed the opulent suite toward the bathroom.
Nova nodded, a weary acknowledgment, his eyes tracking her briefly. She left the bathroom door ajar, a gesture of trust that spoke louder than words; she saw no threat in him, no base impulses to guard against. The door's faint creak echoed in the vast, luxurious silence of the Celestial Suite.
A familiar voice stirred in Nova's mind, telepathic and warm, resonating like a distant melody: "Nova, are you okay? Is Elesch okay?"
He tilted his head, gazing at the coffered ceiling, its gold leaf glinting under the chandelier's soft glow. A faint smile curved his lips as he pictured Freya, her presence vivid in his heart. "We're okay," he said aloud, his voice calm, composed, laced with a gentle warmth. "But it seems we've already got a strong enemy gunning for us, thanks to Apollo. That motherfucker never learns, I swear."
Freya's voice surged back, brimming with anger, compassion, and fierce resolve: "Give me the word, and I'll take him out. We're nearly evenly matched; I can make him suffer."
Nova's smile faded, replaced by a protective frown. "Don't do anything stupid that'll put you or the baby in harm's way. You know a goddess, whether Low or High Heaven, is most vulnerable during pregnancy. After the fifth month, your divine powers will wane. Don't be reckless."
A pause, then Freya's tone softened, tinged with reluctant agreement. "I suppose you're right. But promise me, again, you'll stay safe. Don't let Apollo ruin your journey. Get stronger, and kick his minions' asses."
"Of course," Nova replied, his voice deepening, rich with a romantic cadence. "My love, your wish is my command."
---
In High Heaven, within the boundless expanse of Freya's chambers, she reclined on her silken bed, her gaze fixed on a crystalline mirror that unveiled Nova's every move. Though divine sight rendered such tools superfluous, she cherished its intimate clarity. A tender smile curved her lips, a flush warming her cheeks as her hand rested on her belly, sensing the faint pulse of their unborn child.
I just hope he's okay, she thought, her heart shadowed by worry. Apollo's relentless ambition knew no bounds, his thirst for revenge a venom that could reach even the mortal realm to claim Nova and Elesch.
---
Back in the Celestial Suite, Nova waited, the silence stretching for five minutes until the Saint emerged from the bathroom, her casual attire somehow radiating elegance against the suite's opulent backdrop. She settled into a lavish red leather chair, facing Nova directly, her posture poised yet relaxed.
"Tell me," she began, her Japanese accent threading through her words, "why does Cain harbor such interest in you? Surely, it isn't your powers, given you're still F-rank." Her brown eyes flicked toward Elesch, unconscious on the bed. "Her included. Is it money? Or perhaps a connection to TNT?"
Unwittingly, her aura flared, a radiant pressure that flooded the room, prickling Nova's skin with primal dread. His heart raced, yet a thrill coursed through him: the raw, electric fear of teetering on life's edge, where his next words could spell survival or doom. This is what it means to live, he thought, savoring the razor's edge.
"Well," he said, meeting her gaze unflinchingly, his steady eyes signaling truth, "I don't know much about TNT, and I've got no money. I live in a one-bedroom house, scraping by. I'm with the American Association Guild, the Guild of America, nothing more."
The Saint's chuckle was soft, almost musical, as she leaned back, her posture easing with a flicker of belief. She sensed the latent potential in him, a spark that could one day ignite the world.
"You amuse me, Nova, I presume that's your name. You're nothing like that fool Marcus. Your kind, the seriousness, the ferocity, the aura you exude, it's so… refreshing."
The Saint leaned forward, her brown eyes glinting with a mix of curiosity and resolve, her Japanese accent lending her words a measured cadence. "We'll be crossing paths again, Nova. Often, I suspect. There's something about you, something the Nornir fear, and I intend to understand why." She paused, a faint smile curling her lips. "I've already alerted Marcus to retrieve you. He'll be here soon, likely grumbling the entire way."
Nova's brow furrowed, his body still aching from the fight, but he nodded, sensing the weight of her words. "Marcus? Why him? He will kill me at this rate..."
She laughed softly, a sound like wind chimes in the opulent suite. "Don't worry, he may seem like a mad man, but he will never betray or hurt his comrades. He is just bitchy on the outside, but inside, his heart is that of a toddler."
---
High above Beijing, Marcus gripped the helicopter's armrest, the rotor's thrum vibrating through his bones. His jaw clenched as he muttered under his breath, his Southern drawl thick with irritation: "Goddamn Nova, always dragging me into his fuckin' messes. F-rank my ass, kid's a damn magnet for trouble. And now I got to play taxi driver in this rattling death trap?"
He shot a glare at the pilot, who wisely ignored him. Shaking under his boots. "Fucking Saint, too, acting all high and mighty, like I don't got better things to do than haul Nova's sorry ass outta Beijing. Bet he's sittin' pretty in that fancy hotel, while I'm up here risking my neck. If he's bleeding on her silk sheets, I swear I'm leaving him behind.
The helicopter banked, the city's neon sprawl glittering below like a chaotic constellation. Marcus adjusted his worn leather jacket, muttering: "Kid better have a damn good story, 'cause I ain't in the mood for his hero bullshit today."
---
Back in the Celestial Suite, Nova stood, cradling Elesch's still form, her breathing steadier under the Saint's lingering light shield. The Saint rose from her red leather chair, her casual attire a stark contrast to the room's decadence. She extended a hand, her grip firm yet warm as Nova clasped it.
"Until next time, Nova," she said, her voice steady, her brown eyes locking onto his with unspoken promise. "Stay alive. You're more important than you know."
Nova's lips twitched, a faint smirk breaking through his exhaustion. "Thanks for the help, Saint. I owe you."
She waved a hand, her smile wry. "You owe me nothing. Just keep fighting. And tell Marcus to stop whining when he arrives." With a final nod, she turned, her steps silent on the plush carpet, leaving Nova alone with Elesch, the weight of their survival and the Nornir's shadow heavy in the air.
Whoever this Nornir bastard is, he'll face the consequences of his actions soon enough, Nova thought, his gaze sharpening with unyielding focus. Determination burned in his chest, a fire stoked by defiance. A cheeky smile curved his lips, a silent vow etched in the glint of his eyes as he stood vigil over Elesch, ready for the battles to come.