Shadow of the Abyss

"Is he… Is he not back yet?"

"Sorry ladies," Lieutenant Commander Amilia Thorne wryly said at the dozen young girls glaring at her. "But ever since the new Commander appeared. Altair hasn't been showing up. Although…" She smiled. "If you're lucky, you might see him late at night training his sword beneath the moon."

"Then is he joining the Tournament?" A young woman with long blond hair asked. She was of the rank of warrant officer and one of the first Altair ever treated within Amelia's Medical Ward.

"To my knowledge?" Amilia began giggling as the young woman before her ears began to perk. Their cheeks all but flushed by the news of revolving around the boy that bore the bearings of a lordling. " Altair will be appart of the—"

"Kyaaaaa~"

Blown away by the screams of the young woman, Amilia scratched her head, unsure what to make of your former assistant popularity. Each day, it seemed to have been climbing in rank. Amilia found she had to exhibit presence merely to get to the hordes of a woman blocking the ward for a glimpse of their elusive Lord.

She smiled, wondering if he ever did take a look at the information about puberty she sent him.

"Now, Shoo,' Clearing her ward before any more disturbances came, a spring of laughter caught the lieutenant commander's ear.

"He's quite something! Isn't he." Commander Sanders growled, beaming with a bright smile and a healthy glow. He glanced at the time, counting the seconds till noon when lunch would arrive. "So where is he? I've not seen him since the assassination attempt."

"Truthfully?" Amilia said, checking his vitals for any irregularities with the scanner. "I've no idea. He's been MIA since that redhead cared for him."

"And that bothers you?" The Commander noticed.

"We are still in the same unit… technically," Amilia muttered before injecting a cocktail of probiotics protein, steroids, and a few stimulants into his IV.

"When is he leaving for Genesis?"

"Three years," Amilia told him. "When he's fifteen. By then, he should have met all the requirements needed to join the Royal Imperial Academy."

"Do they already know about him?"

"Probably," Amilia said. "I'm not too in the loop, but it's highly likely. You know Scorpio came to see him a few weeks ago, right?"

Sanders growled again. "I loathe those Corpo bastards. There nothing more than Mercenaries and Bantits."

"But… Altair needs them. Five years we have him. Three technically before he joins the Academy, where he'll receive the best education within the Four Prime Worlds."

Silent, Sanders looked up at the pale steel walls wearily, finding himself nearly wishing Babels Tower had never risen on Earth, wishing he'd so much as heard of the Four Prime Worlds.

***

Greyish skies rumbled, shrieking within blood-red arcs of lighting unfolding through the skies, bringing about thunderous vibrations that sent a tingling sensation through the air. Slowly, flicks of water fell, and before long, a downpour.

"Hurry it up!" Commander Borris barked, leading the recruits forward. "Move it! Hurry it up! Move it!"

"SIR!" shouted the Recruits, blinded by the rain's heavy downpour slapping across their eyes.

In the distance, on top of a lone tree, a young man with long black hair that hung to his shoulders watched, occasionally glancing up at them and then down to the book in his hand. Oddly enough, the rain did not seem to touch his body. Instead, ripples in space seemed to sway back and forth, creating an invisible domain around him.

"What are you doing?" Reina inquired, dressed in the imperial forces' navel uniform, from down below. "Are you making it rain again?"

Altair laughed. "I'm merely testing out my range," he said, having found that it was rather unnecessary to conjure the element of lightning directly from his body when he could do it from a distance.

By manipulating the Mana in the air to help create an artificial charge, he could generate lightning. However, the power was substantially smaller due to not requiring refined Mana, but what was found in any particular region.

"It took a while… But I managed to make it rain." Altair joked, hopping down. He hurried beneath Ren's umbrella. "I figured since I could pull Mana into my body… I should be able to direct it outside my body. And guess what, it worked." he said, ignorant of how great a feat he'd performed.

Ren pulled away, smirking, pointing the finger at him as she cradled her umbrella. "You don't get an umbrella! Someone ate steaks yesterday and didn't even bring me any leftovers… I mean, you didn't even invite me!"

The Prince mischievously grinned. " Come on, Ren… please… I'm getting wet," he said, utterly dry due to his almighty resistance.

~(>_<.)＼

( •̀ ω •́ )y

"Shameless," Ren stomped, snorting, as she whirled to take her leave.

"Well?" The Prince chuckled. "What made you come find me? You've been busy all this week. I barely get to see you now."

Ren touched the hilt of the sword on her hip. " I need Ice," she said. "We had to leave it in the Serpents Outreach… but I need it now. The sword you me gave has already cracked beneath the weight of my Mana."

"... Dimensional Rift requires me to be Third Circle to fully use." Altair reminded her, noticing her downed expression. He inched closer, poking at her plump cheeks. "How about we buy you a decent weapon until then?"

Intrigued by the idea, she glanced at the teary-eyed recruits cursing the rain with all their hearts. "How much does a Tier Three Greatsword Cost?"

"Let's check the internet, and then we can check the system store," he said, glancing back to the running soldier. He snapped his finger. Suddenly a shriek of lightning struck the Earth in a blinding flash, inches from a few of the recruits, scaring the literal shit out of them.

"FUCK"

"DAMN IT!"

"MOMMY"

Altair snickered to himself while Ren giggled at her mischievous Prince before they returned to their quarters. Altair pulled out his laptop and opened his browser to one of the more popular websites that sold weapons based on Genesis or any of their colonies.

"Satori Works?" Ren said.

"Yep, they are known for their weapon's durability, Mana Output, and sharp edges." He said, setting the filter for Ren to find.

Slowly, a 3D diagram of a plethora of weapons came into focus as Altair's laptop began to transform, twisting into fragmented shards; it took the form of a long shaft.

"What the…"

Altair handed the girl the pole, watching as Ren's ruby-red eyes suddenly expanded as she felt the unbelievable weight in her hand.

"Immersive Weight. What you're feeling is a textured mesh of how the sword feels. If you had a neurolink, you would have been able to enter the Metaverse to get the full picture of what you are buying."

"Metaverse?" Asked Ren, tilting her head.

Altair sighed. "I'll pick you up a few books to help educate you on modern technology. Anyway. This sword is 230 Sols, part of their new GX series."

"Hmmm. It's a bit too light. And the balance is a bit off for my height and weight." Ren said, still amazed.

Slowly finding a blade that fitted her height, weight, grip, and demanding techniques, Altair watched on as Ren swapped from sword to sword, enjoying the vibrant glow in her eyes to the sway of her curvy hips as she tried out various stances. He found himself ensnared.

'Enchantress,' he told himself, shifting his gaze to her ample bosom and butt fitting every centimeter of her uniform. It seemed as though Ren would have difficulty maneuvering based on how tight her uniform was. And yet, the reality said otherwise. She was as fluid as water, able to flex her body as though she wore nothing.

"Is 510 too much?" Ren inquired, shooting a glance at Altair, googling her like a juicy piece of meat for the taking.

She grinned sheepishly, not minding the stare that brought butterflies to her stomach.

Absent-minded, Altair shook his head no.

" Hehe, Great… buy now," Ren said, grinning.

When he came too, his eyes widened."Wait, how much?" The Young Lord spat out, watching her tip-toe towards the door with an ever-present smile.

"No takesy backsies!" The Young Nephifilim said, not daring to show her back to her Prince. She opened the door and suddenly felt something hard hit her. Ren tipped her head back to the hazelnut-skinned Vincent staring down at her.

"Red hair? Is… Is this her?" Lieutenant Vincent uttered, finding a conclusion of his own in a matter of seconds. "Not bad. Not bad at all." He offered her a hand. "Lieutenant Vincent Windell."

"Ensign Reina," She greeted, shaking his arm with a firm grip.

"A fine grip, young lady, a fine grip indeed." He laughed, glancing at Altair. "A fine woman here. I hope you got the balls to wife her up."

"You hardly know her. For all you know, she could be a rapist. Or a masked weirdo… A peeping tom." Altair said.

"Hey!"

"She's Mask, so either she is insanely pretty or disfigured. Her palm is raw… recent use of a sword, perhaps. Then, there is that distinctive medical wisp to her. She's a doctor or an alchemist. I'll go with Alchemist based on how strong the smell is. Then there is the way she speaks to you….

That 'hey' was blaming but playful. She isn't mad because she knows she can get you back, or you'll make it up to her."

"Damn…" Ren muttered.

"... A little too spot on," Altair muttered, sensing he might have underestimated his commanding officer.

Vincent laughed. "It's called a cold reading. Fat Mike demands all commanding officers have at least three hundred hours of practice before taking up the position." He explained. "It's a useful trick. although… it doesn't work on people with multiple faces." He narrowed his eyes as if to measure a reaction, but one never came. "Anyway… is your squad competing."

Altair nodded. " Are you asking if we will be joining you? Then yes—"

"Good shit!" Vincent laughed with a flicker of hope. "With all the two missing recruits, we had no hope of victory."

"Two?" Ren said.

"Hmmm. Altair and Leonie, she'll be joining you two beneath Commander Iliana. I thought we'd be facing Hilda's wrath all alone. That bloody monster is strong."

"Is she? What circle."

"Sixth. She's an up-and-comer. Joined the Imperial Forces nearly ten years ago."

"How old is she?" Altair asked.

"Forty-Seven… though she looks eighteen still. Wait. Why are you so curious." Vincent inquired, folding his arms. "I hope you are not scheming. We've already eight people dead and one MIA. All of them revolve around you."

With a laugh, Altair shook his head. "I'm an innocent man, Sir. I just wish to bury the hatchet with Commander Strob. Especially after my recent assassination attempt."

Vincent's folded arms tightened. "You think she—"

"No. I met her. And I've met the people she surrounds herself with." Altair said. "And… I was hoping you'd set up a meeting for just the two of us."

"Are you high?!"

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