Chapter 5: Groundwork
8th November
Intis Republic, Riston Province, Dariège Region, Cordu Village
-Lumian Lee-
"What now?"
"Hm?" The question pulled Lumian from his thoughts as he turned to Angel, who had finished cleaning up the dishes after lunch.
She sat across from him at the dining table, continuing, "We've arrived in Cordu, now what? I don't know why you wanted to come here, but I'm sure you're aware that if you intend to advance to higher Sequences, we can't simply stay here."
"You're restless," the Hunter noted, observing her tense, coiled posture.
"And you're apathetic," the Warrior shot back, "for someone who knows the Apocalypse is less than a decade away." She finished.
Lumian blinked at her words. Right, he had told her about that too, while providing her with the rest of the necessary knowledge about the Beyonder world this morning.
After a moment's recollection, he raised an eyebrow and asked curiously, "And what would you have me feeling? Fear? Crying? Laughing? Breaking down? Would feeling any of that help me survive?" He shook his head. "No, it wouldn't. I've fought for my survival before, and I'll simply do so again, just this time on a larger scale. That is all there is to it."
Almost as an afterthought, he added, "I'll expect the same from my allies, too."
"And what if your allies can't meet your expectations?" Angel asked quietly. "Are they not allowed to fear for their lives? Can they not cry when times are tough?"
Lumian stared into her eyes. "Fear doesn't stop death, it stops life. It comes from inexperience, not incapability. If my allies lack experience in fighting for their lives, I'll give them that experience. And if they can laugh in the face of despair, and cry after fighting for their lives, then it means they are living." His lips curled up faintly. "Perhaps not the best possible life, but they are living."
Angel's eyes widened, seemingly not expecting those words from him.
Hm? The Hunter tilted his head thoughtfully before realising why. Right. I might still be a psychopathic killer in her mind, and she isn't entirely wrong, I don't really feel remorse for the trash I kill. Still, it'd be better to whitewash my image a little, so there's less drama in the future.
Once the thoughts passed, Lumian called out, "Angel."
The gold-eyed Warrior refocused her attention on him. "Yes?" The wariness in her eyes when they first met was no longer present; in fact, there was even a strange softness there that had appeared since this morning.
Lumian could guess the reason, but he didn't dwell on it as he admitted, "I'm the killer of Bigorre."
Angel's face showed surprise at the sudden confession, but it was quickly replaced by calmness.
"Why?" she simply asked.
"They were not innocent," he assured her. "And I needed a way to digest my potion." Interestingly enough, his Hunter potion had completely digested during his 'assassinations', after all, who said a Hunter couldn't be an Assassin, and vice versa?
"Not innocent?" Angel frowned in question.
"Rapist, paedophile, and excessive brutality against a child," the Hunter said contemptuously, listing his victims' offences.
The young woman looked conflicted. She opened her mouth to say something, but no words came out.
After a few moments, she opened her mouth again, only for Lumian to speak before she could.
"Saying things like 'they should have stood trial' or 'you can't be judge, jury, and executioner' won't change my mind or future actions," he stared into her eyes placidly. "This world is in an era similar to the 19th century. Do you think the streets are safer because of parchment and seals?"
Angel frowned at his callous words, but she didn't say anything to dispute them.
Seeing this, Lumian dropped the matter, an easy smile slipping back onto his lips as he asked, "You asked what now, right?"
The Warrior raised an eyebrow, nodding and welcoming the change in subject.
"We're waiting for a fellow Transmigrator," the teen answered straightforwardly, the information making the young woman's eyes widen.
"Someone you know?" she asked with a strange expression. Her reaction was entirely understandable, considering that when he'd met her, he'd admitted to only being in this world for four days. It seemed almost unbelievable to encounter two 'fellow countrymen' within such a short span.
At Angel's question, Lumian shook his head. "We've never met." And it wasn't a lie. He didn't truly know Aurore Lee as a person, only through a story. As for why he hadn't told Angel about his knowledge of the future, it was to preserve plausible deniability. Sooner or later, those watching him would piece together that he knew more than he should. Better to leave them guessing, assuming, drawing their own conclusions, rather than let them extract confirmation from an ally's mind.
"Then how do you know they're a Transmigrator?" She furrowed her brows.
Lumian blinked, then smiled playfully. "Just a feeling." That, too, wasn't entirely untrue. The reason he had come to Cordu was not only to establish a relationship with Aurore, but also because he had felt a tug from the Essence of The Chariot, signalling that there was an opportunity here.
Rather than show irritation at his evasiveness, Angel looked at him thoughtfully. "You're really cautious against Visionary pathway Beyonders," she realised, guessing from the knowledge he had provided her.
"I am," Lumian agreed easily, before asking, "By the way, how's your understanding of the Acting Principles of being a Warrior?"
Angel didn't even hesitate before responding. "In the first four days of my transmigration, I realised that I was no longer just a person, but a 'Warrior'." She paused, then explained at length, "I tried to open a door, only for the hinges to come off. I picked up a cup, only for it to break. Cutlery, only for it to snap. My strength, my speed, my endurance, they have all surpassed what could be called 'baseline human'. Compared to an ordinary person, I could no longer be considered 'human'."
"And the speed at which we finished renovating the house yesterday only reinforced this fact, no?" the Hunter asked with a meaningful smile.
Angel nodded. "I did feel my potion digest a bit yesterday."
Lumian hummed thoughtfully for a moment. "We'll need to get you various sorts of weapons, and you'll need to experience a few fights."
"I've never fought before," the Warrior didn't disagree with him, only pointing out her lack of experience with an uncertain look.
In response, the Hunter gave her a sharp smile. "It's a good thing I have the experience you need, then."
….
10th November
Cordu Village
-Angel Leblanc-
If ten days ago someone had told Angel that she'd be the greatest fighter on Earth, she'd have looked at them as if they'd grown a second head.
But now, she couldn't even entertain that thought, given she wasn't on Earth. And if she were, she could in fact now be considered the best fighter on the planet. All because of the Warrior Beyonder Characteristic the original Angel had consumed.
The Warrior and Hunter stood ten paces apart in the open field behind the house he'd secured for them, the morning sun casting long shadows across the dew-damp grass.
Angel rolled her shoulders, feeling the ache from the past couple spars settle into her muscles. Across from her, Lumian watched with a calculating look, cataloguing every twitch and shift of her stance.
She'd learned two days ago that his senses were outrageously sharp.
Angel adjusted her stance without consciously deciding to, her body instinctively shifting, responding to the Hunter's observation before her mind had finished processing it. That was the Warrior in her, she'd come to realise. The instinct to correct, to improve, to adapt in combat.
The ash-silver haired woman took a deep breath—
"!!!"
One moment Lumian was ten paces away, the next he was inside her reach, and Angel's instincts screamed at her to move. She twisted, his palm grazing her shoulder instead of connecting with her sternum, and used the momentum to create space.
The Warrior didn't complain about the sudden attack, she'd experienced it more than once by now. Instead, she focused on the spar.
Krav Maga focuses on aggressive defence, she reminded herself, catching Lumian's wrist as he pressed her again, redirecting his momentum, and driving her knee toward his ribs.
Again, isn't his speed too fast for a Sequence 9? Angel couldn't help the same idle thought from resurfacing, despite having no other pathway or Sequence to compare to except her own.
Lumian wasn't where her knee expected him to be. His forearm came down across her thigh, deflecting the strike, and suddenly they were close enough that she could feel his breath on her cheek.
If he moves slightly he could kis—
Her body overruled her intrusive thoughts, flowing into the next movement without hesitation. She wrapped her leg around his in a sweep that sent them both tumbling onto the grass.
It was hard to get used to all of this mentally. The rolling, the grappling, the way Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu turned a fight into something almost intimate. They hit the ground and she was already moving, trying to establish mount position, but Lumian was slippery in ways that had nothing to do with sweat.
His knee came up, creating space, and suddenly she was the one on her back with him settling over her hips.
His face was inches from hers. She could count his eyelashes if she wanted to.
He shifted his weight, and her Warrior instincts seized the opening. She bucked, twisted, and wrapped her legs around his head in a triangle choke attempt.
Which meant her crotch was pressed against his face.
Oh for the love of—
Two taps to her thigh—a signal to release—snapped her to her senses. When she let go, he rolled away and came up in a crouch, looking utterly unbothered by his loss and where his face had been buried.
"You're still hesitating," he said, not even slightly out of breath. "When you had mount, you didn't press the advantage. When you went for the triangle, your hips were slow."
Angel sat up, pushing hair from her face and refusing to acknowledge the warmth in her cheeks. "I'm aware."
Lumian didn't say anything for a moment. His expression was neutral, as it always was when they sparred. He displayed no joy, competitive drive, or irritation when they fought. To him, it was clearly a means to an end.
The end, of course, being making sure she could carry her own weight—and support his goal of completing his ritual, and perhaps eventually—
"Are you perhaps a virgin, Angel?"
The serious reflection Angel had been engaged in was instantly shattered by the out-of-left-field question. She focused her attention on the raven-haired teen and saw the neutral expression giving way to a familiar cheeky smile, one that felt natural for a boy his biological age.
After a moment to compose herself, the Warrior responded with a question of her own. "What makes you think that I am?" She could more or less guess the reasoning behind the question, but she still asked nonetheless, just in case.
Lumian's smile turned from playful to curious. "It's either you, the Transmigrator, or the original Angel." It was the latter, and surprisingly, or perhaps not, her ideal romance was as cliche as it could get—catching the eye of a kind Loenese gentleman. Still, his words didn't answer her question.
As if hearing her thoughts, he elaborated, yet the shamelessness of the sudden words stupefied her. "You have a nice ass." His expression was sincere, but… where had that come from? How had the conversation even digressed this way?
Once again, as though he'd plucked the thought straight from her mind, Lumian clarified, "In short, I'm going through puberty again because of my body's age."
So that's why he asked. Angel nodded to herself, still feeling awkward at the compliment(?). "…You think my emotions are affected by the original Angel's memories?" She didn't miss the appreciative glances he gave her body whenever they finished sparring, it was at least tame compared to the ogling she had been getting since day one.
"Or I could be wrong, and you yourself are reserved compared to the close contact I'm used to seeing?" He questioned rhetorically, a thoughtful look on his face.
It's the first. Or so she'd like to think. But rather than jumping to conclusions, she actually paused to consider it. "It's a bit of both," she answered after a moment of thought.
"I am Angel Leblanc as much as I am Emilia Adler." Angel realised. Right now she could differentiate between the two, but sooner or later, she would be unable to distinguish where Emilia ended and where Angel began.
…Unless she completely decided against being 'Angel Leblanc' and clung to the past. A choice that would have her walking a very fine line between madness and sanity, with a high possibility of losing control, given her morals would leave her feeling guilty at severing any and all relationships with her new family.
"That's enough for today."
The words snapped her out of her somber thoughts as she met Lumian's sky-blue eyes that seemed to see through her.
"If it helps you, I too have inherited Lumian's emotions. But unlike Angel, he no longer had family. So after tying up some loose ends, I moved on," he said considerately.
"Loose ends?" She wondered what loose ends someone with no family could have, while noting the similarities between the original Lumian and the Transmigrator's lack of family.
His gaze didn't move from hers as he said, "Just a bunch of worthless animals that played a part in his—my," he corrected himself, "grandfather's death."
Angel felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end at the lack of emotion in his tone and gaze, especially compared to the contempt he'd shown when talking about his victims in Bigorre.
The sheer indifference and insignificance in his eyes made her imagine a gardener mowing grass that had grown too long.
The Warrior stood stiffly, suddenly realising that if they had a real fight—not the spars they'd been having these past two days—her chances of victory might not even be fifty per cent, even with the martial arts she'd copied.
After staring into her gold eyes for a long moment—long enough that the lizard part of her brain wondered if she was his next victim—he turned away, walking back into the house.
"Let's clean up. The person we've been waiting for has arrived in Cordu."
Huh? It took her a moment to register what he said, but when she did, her eyes widened in surprise. They're already here that fast?
…
-Béost-
Another one? Looking at the beautiful blonde young woman before him, Béost didn't dare even have the courage to ogle her. Who knew if she—like that Angel woman—had the strength of ten grown men?
So he quickly decided to finish her business. "Just a sign here, Miss Aurore Lee, and the house will be all yours," he said suavely—or at least he hoped he was—pushing the paper across the table.
+++
A/N: Lumian is like 'let me whitewash my image', and then proceeds to acting-maxxing for his Provoker potion, and even doing the same for Angel. Meanwhile Béost is shitting his pants realising that beautiful women will only slow his sword drawing speed.