The vibrant hum of the Nexus faded behind them as Celestial Muse led Lark deeper into the sprawling complex. The hallways, sleek and metallic, pulsed with an almost imperceptible energy, a stark contrast to the grimy alleys Lark had called home. Muse, with her confident stride and the alluring sway of her hips, moved with an easy grace that captivated Lark's weary eyes. Her hero costume, a marvel of form and function, clung to her toned physique like a second skin. Intricately woven tactical armor panels accentuated her curves, enhancing rather than concealing the powerful body beneath. Delicate, almost invisible devices shimmered at her wrists and collarbone, hinting at untold capabilities. Lark, for a fleeting moment, felt a pang of something he hadn't allowed himself in years: admiration, mixed with a healthy dose of raw, carnal appreciation.
They arrived at a vast training hangar, its ceiling soaring into an unseen darkness. The air thrummed with a low, mechanical growl, punctuated by the occasional clang of metal. Various targets and holographic projections flickered across the far wall. In the center, several hulking, humanoid puppets, crafted from what looked like reinforced steel, stood ominously.
Celestial Muse turned, a confident smile playing on her lips, her eyes, the color of twilight, settling on Lark. "Alright, Lark. This is where we'll start to understand what you're capable of. Before we begin, I need you to explain your powers to me in a lot more detail. Don't leave anything out."
Lark shifted uncomfortably, feeling the weight of her gaze. He wasn't used to much scrutiny, let alone from someone so... radiant. "Well, uh… I just got them yesterday, so it's all pretty new. But, my powers are… I can make my hand vibrate." He demonstrated, his fingers blurring into a faint, high-frequency distortion, a subtle hum emanating from his skin. "Alone, I can't do much with just my bare hands. But when I hold a weapon..." He paused, his gaze hardening slightly. "I can make the weapons more lethal by vibrating them."
Muse's smile widened, a calculating glint in her eyes. "Lethal, you say? Very well. How about we look into those abilities right now. There's a rack of training weapons in the corner. Grab something you're comfortable with and test it on those puppets." She gestured towards the hulking metal figures. "They're made of reinforced metal and are incredibly tough. Don't hold back; do your utmost best."
As Lark ambled towards the weapon rack, his eyes scanning the various blades, staves, and blunt instruments, the heavy hangar doors hissed open again. Two figures strode in, their presence instantly commanding attention. The first was a mountain of a man, his muscles bulging beneath a tight, reinforced suit of crimson and gold. This was Radiant Bastion, known for his impregnable defenses and overwhelming strength. Beside him moved a woman, whose movements were liquid grace. Velvet Tempest, her form exquisite in a sleek, obsidian bodysuit that seemed to absorb the light, adorned with sharp, metallic accents that flared like predatory wings at her shoulders and hips. The fabric, almost transparent in places, offered tantalizing glimpses of flawless skin beneath. Lark felt a strange mix of apprehension and grudging admiration. These were the true Awakened, the legends.
"Celestial Muse," Radiant Bastion boomed, his voice resonating through the hangar, shaking the very air. "Good to see you."
Celestial muse turned, her expression brightening with genuine warmth. "Radiant Bastion, Velvet Tempest. It's quite rare for you two to show up in this place. Business must be slow, or perhaps you're bored?"
Velvet Tempest offered a cool, elegant smile. "Just looking around, Muse. Perhaps scouting for new talent. Though..." Her gaze drifted over to Lark, still contemplating a hefty longsword. Her lips, painted a deep, dangerous crimson, curled slightly. "...who is the skinny guy?"
Muse chuckled softly, a low, melodic sound. "He's a new Awakened recruit who's interested in joining us."
Radiant Bastion scoffed, a deep rumble in his chest. "With that body? Bro, you have to build some muscles. You look like you'd get snapped in half by a stiff breeze."
Lark, who had just picked up a simple, well-balanced steel longsword, bristled slightly. His past, a life of relentless struggle against poverty, had left him lean, not weak. "Yeah, I know," he shot back, a hint of his usual sarcasm creeping into his tone. "But living in poverty makes it quite hard to afford a gym membership or, you know, regular food."
Radiant Bastion looked momentarily taken aback, his massive brow furrowing. Velvet Tempest, however, merely raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow, an almost imperceptible smirk touching her lips. "So," Velvet tempest then said. "What are your powers, then, twig?"
Lark exhaled slowly. He hated this part. "I can vibrate things."
Velvet Tempest's cool demeanor shattered, replaced by a look of thinly veiled disdain. "That's it? You can vibrate things? I really don't recommend you joining our organization. You'll just get yourself killed. We face creatures that can tear steel like paper, dimensional anomalies that unravel reality, and rogue Awakened who can level city blocks. 'Vibrating' sounds like a parlor trick." Her words cut deep, sharp and precise.
Lark's eyes, usually a mask of apathy, flickered with a raw, defiant spark. "I know the risk," he said, his voice low, but carrying a surprising weight that made both Radiant and Velvet pause. "But... I really don't want to live that kind of life anymore. That squalid, hopeless existence." He gripped the sword tighter, his knuckles white. "Even if I have to risk my life everyday, it's better than that... So, what is the salary?"
Aurelia stepped forward, appreciating the underlying fire in Lark's seemingly laid-back attitude. "You get paid after doing your job, Lark. If you stop a crime, harvest materials from other dimensions, hunt criminals, or any other mission we assign, you get paid after, and it depends on the scenarios you took on. The pay is commensurate with the risk and the value of the outcome."
"Noted," Lark said, a calculating look in his eyes. He took a deep breath, focusing on the simple longsword in his hand. It felt solid, balanced, but unremarkable. He closed his fingers around the hilt, and a faint, almost imperceptible tremor began. The air around his hand distorted, and a low, guttural hum started to rise from the steel. It wasn't the kind of vibration that rattled your teeth; it was deeper, more fundamental, as if the very molecules of the blade were singing a dangerous, high-pitched song.
He approached the nearest iron puppet, a hulking figure with simplified features, standing as still and unyielding as a mountain. With a grunt, Lark swung the sword. It wasn't a masterfully executed strike, more a desperate, raw effort of will.
SHIIIINNGGG!
The sound was sharp, agonizing, like a banshee wailing in protest as metal met metal. Sparks flew in a violent, incandescent shower, showering the floor. Radiant Bastion and Velvet Tempest, who had been watching with detached amusement, suddenly stiffened. The heavy metallic puppet remained standing, but a deep, ugly gash, precisely three inches deep, had been carved into its chest. The cut itself was impossibly clean, the edges of the severed metal almost glowing with residual heat.
Radiant Bastion's jaw dropped, a rare sight. Velvet Tempest gasped, a small, involuntary sound. Both turned to Aurelia, their eyes wide with disbelief. "Muse," Radiant Bastion rumbled, "were those training weapons... that sharp?"
Aurelia's eyes, usually so composed, had widened marginally. "No," she said, her voice a low whisper. "They're not."
Lark ignored them, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He hadn't focused enough. He could do better. He had to. The memory of the squalor, the hunger, the cold, gnawed at him. He wouldn't go back. He couldn't. He grabbed the sword again, his entire being focusing on the hilt, on the blade. He poured every ounce of his burgeoning power, every desperate plea for survival, into the weapon.
The hum started again, but this time it was different. It intensified rapidly, rising in pitch and volume until it was a high-frequency scream, a metallic shriek that seemed to tear at the very fabric of the air. The sword itself blurred, a shimmering outline of metal vibrating at an impossible speed. The air around it rippled, distorting the light, making it look phantom-like, yet terrifyingly real. Lark's face was a mask of intense concentration, sweat beading on his brow as he poured his will into the weapon.
Then, with a guttural roar, he swung. It was a more controlled strike this time, fueled by a savage determination.
The blade sliced through the metal puppet not with a clang or a grind, but with a shocking, almost silent swoosh. It was the sound of air being cleaved, not solid steel resisting. For a split second, the puppet stood whole, then, with a sickening groan of tortured metal, it cleaved apart. The top half slid smoothly, almost gracefully, from the bottom, falling to the ground with a deafening crash. The severed edges of the metal were perfectly smooth, glowing a faint, angry red, glistening as if freshly polished. Where the blade had passed, the very molecules of the steel had been rent asunder, almost vaporized. It wasn't a cut; it was an annihilation.
A stunned silence descended upon the hangar.
Celestial Muse, Radiant Bastion, and Velvet Tempest stared, their faces a tableau of absolute shock. To be able to cut an iron puppet was a great feat; to bisect it instantly, like butter, was utterly unheard of for a fresh Awakened, even with a developed power.
Muse was the first to find her voice, her tone filled with a mix of awe and professional assessment. "Very impressive, Lark. Truly. You'll do great when you start to visit the other worlds. Your powers will definitely be... unique and powerful." She paused, her gaze sweeping over his slight frame. "But you definitely need to start building your body up. Raw power is nothing without the physical endurance to wield it."
"Yes, ma'am," Lark managed, his body trembling from the exertion, the vibrating energy receding from the sword, leaving it dull and inert once more.
Velvet Tempest, her earlier disdain completely evaporated, stared at the bisected puppet, then at Lark, her crimson lips slightly parted. "I... I take back what I said," she admitted, a rare note of genuine surprise in her voice. "Your powers will definitely come in handy against armored monsters. Or any monsters, for that matter." Her eyes lingered on the clean, brutal cut, a flicker of something close to respect, and perhaps a touch of fear, appearing in their depths.
Muse turned back to Lark, a thoughtful look on her face. "Can you do more, Lark? Is there anything else you've discovered?"
Lark shook his head, pushing a stray strand of hair from his sweat-soaked forehead. "No, not yet," he admitted, exhaustion creeping into his voice. "I really didn't discover my powers that deep yet. So, for now, this is all I know I could do."
But beneath his tired eyes, a new resolve had ignited. He had cut through steel. He had glimpsed the potential of his new life. And he knew, with a certainty that thrilled and terrified him, that this was just the beginning.