Chapter 145: Chapter 145: Hero in the making
He dressed quickly, the sleek, dark Lyceum uniform sliding over his skin.
He looked over at himself in the full-length mirror. He ran a hand over his smooth jaw. Still no beard. He sighed dramatically. "One day," he muttered to his reflection. "One day I’ll look as formidable as I feel."
When he left his bedroom and descended the stairs, the house was quiet, the others likely occupied in their own wings. He found Ysmeine waiting for him in the living area, a warm, proud smile on her face.
"There you are," she said softly. "Ready for your big day?"
He nodded, a confident grin spreading across his face. "More than ready. If my first day didn’t bother me, I don’t think the second time will be any different. In fact, I think it’s going to be more fun." He responded.
She stepped forward, her hands coming up to straighten the collar of his uniform, a gesture full of care. Her fingers lingered for a moment, her smoky green eyes taking him in. "You look... powerful." She then pulled him into a deep, lingering kiss, full of unspoken promises and fierce affection. "Be safe, darling," she whispered when she pulled back. "And show them... that you’re special."
After bidding his farewells, he found Mireille and Arya waiting for him outside by the cruiser. Mireille stood by the entrance, her arms crossed, the very picture of stoic professionalism. Her gaze was sharp, analytical, but Zaeryn caught the briefest flicker in her eyes as she took in his uniform, a silent acknowledgment that something had shifted.
"The uniform suits you," she remarked, her voice flat but lacking its usual icy edge.
"Thanks," Zaeryn responded.
Mireille gave him a nod in response.
Since she’d found out he could wield Vitae, her attitude towards him was different. She wasn’t cold and mean like before; in fact, today he felt like he had truly cracked her ice when they sparred.
She’d even smiled at him, showing that she didn’t see him as an annoyance anymore.
Arya, by contrast, was her usual friendly self. She offered him a warm, open smile, her eyes sparkling with a familiar, teasing light. "Ready to go, Zaeryn?" she asked, her voice a pleasant melody. "You look... energized. Ready to take on the world today?"
"If it comes down to it? Yes." He responded.
"It’s time to leave," Mireille said, her tone all business again. "We have a schedule to keep."
"Right," Zaeryn said, falling into step between them. He glanced at Mireille as they walked toward the waiting cruiser. "Thanks again for the training this morning. It was... illuminating."
Looking back at him as she let him enter the cruiser before her, a genuine, if fleeting, smirk touched Mireille’s lips. "You’re welcome," she said simply. "And if I’m being honest, you are not as weak as I thought. You surprised me, by a mile."
"Well, keep training me, and I will surprise you more."
"We’ll see." She nodded.
"Mireille said you reminded her of herself. She thinks you have so much raw potential," Arya cut in as she took a seat next to Zaeryn, while Mireille went to the controls and started the cruiser.
"Oh, how?" Zaeryn asked, genuinely curious as he turned his attention to the cockpit.
Mireille glanced over her shoulder, her expression steady, like she was recounting facts rather than her own history. "Back when I first got into the Lyceum, my abilities were raw. Unrefined. I started at nascent level, just like you, barely able to control a flicker without it backfiring. I figured I’d top out at F-class, maybe D if I pushed hard. Training my powers from nascent to Class A felt like a pipe dream. But then High Commander Lysara spotted me during a routine evaluation. She saw something I didn’t. Pulled me aside and she started training me personally. Turned what I thought were limits into stepping stones."
Zaeryn’s eyebrows shot up. "Wait, you were trained by the High Commander? Like, one-on-one?"
Arya nodded, her smile widening a bit. "It’s Mireille’s biggest flex. Getting personal training from Lysara? That’s not just a compliment—it’s a rare honor. She doesn’t waste her time on anyone who isn’t worth it."
Zaeryn tilted his head, processing that. "So why can’t I get trained by Lysara? Sounds like exactly what I need."
Mireille’s voice came back flat, no-nonsense. "She only takes special cases. People with potential that could shift the balance in the fight against the star beasts. It’s not about asking, it’s about proving you’re irreplaceable."
Zaeryn smirked, though he kept it light. "Come on, I’m the definition of special. Male with Vitae powers? That’s not exactly common."
Arya chuckled softly, patting his arm. "You really are a special one. No arguing that."
Zaeryn leaned back in his seat, a thoughtful, strategic glint in his eyes. "Maybe when I acquire a Tier 2 signature, she’ll consider it." The words were out before he could stop them, a casual slip born of his new ambition.
The air in the cruiser went still. Mireille’s hands froze over the console. Slowly, she turned her head, her icy-blue eyes locking onto him. "What did you just say?"
She’d heard something similar from him that morning, some offhand comment about acquiring a Tier 2 signature. At the time, she’d assumed ignorance and corrected him, explaining that Vitae tier wasn’t something you chose. But now, watching the casual certainty in his expression, she realized the gap between them might not be knowledge at all. It might be capability.
Arya looked just as confused. "What do you mean, ’acquire’ a signature?"
Zaeryn realized his mistake. He sighed, deciding a partial truth was better than a bad lie. "Well, what I said. When I get a new Vitae ability. Pick one up, make it mine."
Arya’s eyes widened in awe. "You’re talking about mimicry?"
Zaeryn nodded, casual about it. "Yeah."
Arya’s eyes lit up with interest. "That’s impressive. Mimickers, or whatever we’re calling them, are rare. Like, one in a million rare."
But Mireille’s gaze remained sharp, analytical. "Even for mimickers, there are limits," she said, her voice cutting through Arya’s excitement.
"Vitae tiers are absolute. You can only replicate abilities within your own tier, and it’s a temporary copy, not a permanent upgrade. Trying to mimic a Tier 2 signature, for instance, is biologically impossible for a mimic with tier 3 or 4 vitae signature like you."
Zaeryn’s grin turned wolfish, the kind that promised secrets and chaos. "Not for me. I can wield even higher tiers. And unlike your standard mimickers, I can actually get the powers permanently. Make them mine."
The shock hit them like a Vitae surge. Arya’s mouth fell open, her warm demeanor shifting to outright awe. "Permanently? That’s... that’s not possible. You’d be able to build an arsenal of abilities, evolve beyond any single tier."
Mireille’s icy blue eyes locked onto him in the rearview display. "If that’s true... you’re not just an anomaly. You will become the most powerful warrior in this whole world. One that could upend everything."
"I wish to become powerful, but it’s for my own protection," Zaeryn explained.
Mireille’s eyes narrowed slightly in the rearview. "With Kayla as your sister and Lysara backing you, I’d say you’re already safe from the Queendom. The Matriarch Tribunal, though..." She trailed off, letting the implication hang.
"They’ll see me differently," Zaeryn finished.
"As a threat to the established order. The stronger you become, the bigger that threat." Mireille’s voice was matter-of-fact. "Unless you prove your intentions are genuine. That you won’t misuse the power you have."
"They are," Zaeryn said simply.
Mireille glanced at him in the mirror. "Then become a hero. You have vitae. Show them, you won’t misuse your powers and become a symbol. It’s harder to erase someone the public loves. If you’re seen as a protector of the Queendom, even the Tribunal won’t risk the backlash."
Zaeryn considered that, letting the strategy settle. Then his expression shifted, the weight lifting as a familiar grin tugged at his lips. "A hero," he mused, his gaze drifting toward Arya with deliberate playfulness. "Heroes are loved by everyone. And... fans."