No Gods, No Heroes

Chapter 6

Hero Organization

Lucien stared down at the bustling metropolis of Sierra, almost smiling. His office phone rang.

"Yes?"

"General, you have a visitor," Helen said.

"I wasn't expecting anyone."

"It's Giovanni, sir."

"Let him in." Lucien ended the call.

Not long after, the door opened. A slender man in a silky white suit stepped inside, his face beaming with a wide smile.

"Lucien, it's been a while, hasn't it?" Giovanni said.

Lucien walked towards a wooden cupboard, retrieving two champagne glasses and a bottle of wine. "After you received the Vanguard-class Hero title, you left for Lima. You didn't even give me a chance to congratulate you."

Giovanni chuckled, leaning casually against the desk. "Sierra was getting a bit boring, so I took a vacation. That's all."

Lucien said nothing as he poured the wine, handing Giovanni a glass.

"I also heard Lima's president passed away recently," Lucien remarked, swirling the crimson liquid in his glass. "And his replacement is nothing more than a lapdog of Sierra."

Giovanni raised an eyebrow but smiled. "You're well-informed as always, Lucien. You haven't changed since our war days. You, me, and Isaac... we made quite the trio. Though, you and Isaac were especially close."

Giovanni rose from his seat, walking towards a display of neatly polished violins lining the far wall. He ran his finger along the intricate design of one of them.

"You still play?" he asked.

"It's a personal release," Lucien replied. "A way to reflect."

Giovanni nodded thoughtfully. "I heard something shocking when I returned... Isaac is still alive."

Lucien grinned, setting his glass down with a soft clink.

"I was wondering why the Scarlet Hand, leader of the Red Veil, decided to show up." Lucien's expression hardened. His voice dropped an octave. "Who sent you?"

Giovanni didn't blink. "I was recalled by the council. In case you couldn't finish the job you started."

Lucien chuckled under his breath. "You all misunderstand something. Fighting Isaac head-on isn't the most efficient way to take him out. The only two people who could rival his power are long gone."

Lucien met Giovanni's gaze, unflinching. "And you... you never came close.

"Giovanni's face darkened.

"What do you mean by that?"

Lucien leaned back slightly, his gaze calm. "The Council choosing you to take on Isaac is foolish. That's the only reason I listened to you in the first place. We both have different reasons for wanting him gone."

Giovanni narrowed his eyes but said nothing.

"Isaac is a threat to those greedy bastards because of his influence after the war," Lucien continued. "They fear that, if he wanted, he could sway the people of Sierra and overthrow the Council. I don't want that. Isaac is a fool—clinging to childish morals. Someone like that can't possibly maintain the colony I fought and sacrificed for."

"The Council may trust you with this mission, but we both know you're their second choice." 

Giovanni forced a grin. "You think I got to the head of Sierra's elite forces by luck?"

"I never said you weren't powerful," Lucien replied, swirling the remaining wine in his glass. "I'm saying you're not there yet—at that upper echelon."

Giovanni slammed his glass to the floor. The sharp crack echoed through the office. Lucien's eyes followed the trail of wine as it seeped into the cracks of the marble.

"That wine was expensive."

Giovanni stepped forward, his voice low. "I'll take Isaac out—and when I do, I'll shove those words right back down your throat."

Without another word, he stormed out, the door slamming behind him.

Helen entered moments later, glancing at the broken glass as she stepped over the mess. "Do you think firing him up like that was a good idea?"

Lucien smirked faintly. "Giovanni's always had a short fuse. He's still insecure about his abilities."

Helen crouched to clean the shattered glass. "He's made considerable progress, though. Becoming the youngest Scarlet Hand isn't something to dismiss."

Lucien rose, straightening his jacket. "Then this will be the perfect test for Isaac. If Giovanni can't handle him, I'll pay Isaac a visit myself."

Helen stood, wiping her hands. "Should I ready the car? Oh, and the flowers just arrived."

Lucien's smile returned. "Good. Yes—have the car ready."

Nova

Isaac, Janice, and Malick sat around a battered round table in a poorly constructed restaurant. Rats scurried beneath their feet, and the occasional cockroach wandered across the table. The other patrons paid no mind—this was normal here.

Malick and Isaac exchanged glances as Janice devoured the food in front of her. She finally noticed their stares.

"Wha—" she mumbled, mouth full. She swallowed. "I haven't eaten in days."

Isaac leaned back in his chair. "How long have you two known each other?"

"Four years," Janice answered without looking up.

"How old are you guys?"

"Eighteen," Malick replied.

"It's not polite to ask a lady her age," Janice added with mock indignation.

"She's seventeen," Malick said casually.

"Hey, what the hell?" Janice shot him a glare and kicked him under the table.

Isaac smiled faintly. "No family?"

"Janice ran away from home. I'm a war orphan," Malick said, his voice softening.

"So... no family," Isaac repeated.

Janice tilted her head, studying him. "What about you?"

Isaac hesitated. "If we're going to be a family, we should probably know these things."

Malick raised an eyebrow. "Family?"

"Isn't that what we are?"

Malick grinned. "If we are, then I'm the head."

Janice snorted. "Why's that?"

"Because you're both crazy idealists," Malick said, smirking. "I can see it in your eyes, Isaac. You're like her. The head needs to be the practical one—and that's me."

Isaac and Janice burst into laughter.

"I was engaged once," Isaac said suddenly, his voice quieter. "To someone who pulled me out of a dark place."

Janice's laughter faded as she leaned in slightly. "Oh…"

"She's dead now," Isaac continued, gaze fixed on the table. "I have an idea who might've been involved, but I can't be sure yet. I don't know what I'll do when I face him… if I'll stay calm or lose it. If I'll kill him… or forgive him."

A heavy silence settled over the table. Malick and Janice just stared at him.

Isaac rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly self-conscious. "Sorry. I didn't mean to dump all that on you."

Malick shrugged. "We've all been there. We get it."

Janice stretched, pushing her chair back. "It's getting late. Let's head home."

Isaac hesitated. "About that…"

The three of them stood in front of what remained of the house. Smoke curled from the rubble, and Janice and Malick stared, each wearing a different kind of shock on their face.

"You blew up the entire street… just to avoid killing one man," Malick muttered.

Isaac grinned sheepishly. "It worked, didn't it?"

Janice crossed her arms. "Where do we live now?"

Isaac's smile didn't waver. "I have an idea."

A sleek black Corvette rolled to a stop in front of an old, weathered house. Lucien stepped out, holding a bouquet of red spider lilies in one hand. Helen followed closely behind.

"You didn't have to come," Lucien said without turning.

Helen ignored him, keeping pace as he approached the gate.

Lucien knocked gently.

"Who is it?" a frail voice called from inside. The creak of wooden floorboards echoed as she approached the door.

The door cracked open, and an elderly woman peered out. Her eyes narrowed the moment she saw him.

"You…" Her voice trembled, but not with fear.

"Mrs. Hart. Good evening. May I come in?" Lucien asked softly.

Her expression hardened. "How many times do I have to tell you? You're not welcome here, devil."

Lucien's face remained calm. "I only came to pay my respects… to a colleague."

"A colleague you killed," she spat. "It must've eaten away at you, seeing them together, didn't it?"

Helen tensed behind Lucien as Mrs. Hart stepped closer, gripping the gate.

"You sold your soul for power. You killed them—your childhood friends." Her voice wavered, but the weight behind her words struck like a hammer. "I'm ashamed of you, Lucien."

Helen took a step forward. "Let's go, General—"

"I just—"

Before Lucien could finish, Mrs. Hart slapped him across the face. The sharp crack lingered in the air.

"General!" Helen's hand twitched toward her sidearm.

"You hag—"

Lucien raised his hand, signaling Helen to stop. His gaze never left Mrs. Hart.

"Your power didn't kill them, Lucien. Your pride did." 

"I'll leave these here," he said quietly, placing the flowers gently by the gate.

Without another word, he turned away.

Helen waited until they reached the car. "Why do you keep tormenting yourself like this, Lucien?"

He paused, glancing back at the house.

"It reminds me of my mistakes," he said. "And why things need to change."

Lucien's voice trailed off, but Helen caught the faint whisper that followed.

"…Lucien."

Lucien's eyes narrowed as he stared across the road. He recognized the voice instantly. Standing on the opposite side was Isaac—flanked by Janice and Malick.

"That's General Voss," Janice whispered, her eyes wide.

"Head of—"

Before she could finish, Isaac vanished.

In a blink, he reappeared in front of Lucien, driving a powerful punch into his chest. Lucien skidded backward along the pavement, his heels scraping against the ground. He caught his balance just before slamming into a lamp post, wiping a trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth.

Helen's hand hovered over her weapon, but Lucien raised a hand, signaling her to stand down.

"Good to see you too, Isaac," Lucien said, brushing dust from his suit. "I'm sorry we couldn't reconnect under better circumstances."

Isaac's breaths came sharp and ragged. His fists trembled at his sides.

"Why?" His voice cracked with restrained fury. "Why did you kill Eunice?"

Lucien's expression didn't waver. "She was… necessary collateral damage."

A sharp crack split the air—Isaac's foot leaving the ground as he lunged forward with a burst of speed. The shockwave knocked Helen a step back.

Isaac's fist cut through the air, aimed straight for Lucien's head.

But Lucien shifted, the punch grazing just past him. In a fluid motion, he leapt back, widening the gap between them.

Malick's mouth fell open. "How the hell did he dodge that?"

Janice's eyes narrowed, tracking Lucien's every movement. "General Voss is a Psychomorph. His ability—Time Dilation. His mutation lets him alter his perception of time. He can stretch or compress it at will, making him seem faster or slowing everything else down."

Lucien smiled faintly, rolling his shoulders. "You've grown rusty, Isaac."

From his suit pocket, Lucien retrieved a small, sleek metal cylinder. With a click, it expanded threefold. He slid his fingers along its length, unsheathing a katana with a soft metallic hiss.

The blade gleamed under the streetlight.

Lucien's eyes locked onto Isaac's.

He dashed forward without hesitation, the katana slicing through the air.

Isaac sidestepped at the last second, barely dodging the strike. He retaliated with a punch aimed for Lucien's jaw—

—but Lucien knocked it aside with the hilt of his blade, diverting the force away from his face.

The pavement beneath them cracked from the impact.

Burst

Lucien slid his katana back into its sheath. With a soft click, the blade retracted into its compact form, disappearing into his suit pocket.

Isaac dropped to his knees, blood seeping through his torn jacket. Shallow cuts lined his body—delivered at speeds too fast to comprehend.

Lucien exhaled slowly, watching Isaac struggle to steady himself.

"A few years ago, you might've dodged that. But look at you now."

Isaac gritted his teeth, forcing his legs to move beneath him. His arms shook as he tried to rise.

"We're not done yet."

Lucien's gaze remained impassive. "The Scarlet Hand is coming for your head. Kill him—then we'll talk."

Without another glance, Lucien turned and began walking toward the car. Helen followed silently at his side.

Malick and Janice stood frozen as he passed, neither daring to move.

Lucien's eyes lingered on them for a brief moment—cold, detached. His emotionless stare sent an involuntary shiver down Janice's spine.

"See you later, Isaac," Lucien said without turning back.

The Corvette's door shut softly behind him, and the engine roared to life, leaving nothing but silence in its wake.