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Hes the tour guides son

  The oppressive atmosphere of the fortress seemed to press down on Azarias as he stood, his posture rigid with tension. Valentina's piercing gaze bore into him, her eyes glinting with a mix of curiosity and cunning.

  "Tell me, you planned it from the beginning, didn't you?" Valentina's voice was silky smooth, each word carefully measured.

  Azarias began to rise, his movements deliberate and controlled. "I read chess before coming here," he stated flatly, his tone betraying nothing of his inner thoughts.

  "Tell me everything," he commanded, turning to face her fully. His unwavering gaze locked onto hers, a silent battle of wills unfolding between them.

  Valentina's lips curved into a sly smile. "My loyal blade. A celebration of war. You are about to sacrifice something." The words hung in the air.

  "That is—" Azarias began, but Valentina cut him off swiftly.

  "You didn't say how I'd tell you, did you now? That's everything I know," she said slowly, savoring each syllable. Her eyes danced with mischief as she added, "Now, would you excuse me? I'd like to use my jacuzzi." She moved gracefully towards the luxurious bath, her every movement a calculated display.

  Azarias sighed, a hint of begrudging admiration in his voice. "Yet you call me sly." He turned his gaze to Anna, who had been standing silently nearby, observing the exchange with rapt attention. "Let's go. That should be enough information."

  He strode towards the door, his hand reaching for the ornate handle. As it swung open, the stark contrast between the two worlds became glaringly apparent. The meticulously crafted walls and floors of Valentina's chamber gave way abruptly to the grim, dark stone of the fortress proper. The transition was jarring, a physical representation of the line between luxury and harsh reality. "i didn't mean this useful." he says again

  Before Azarias could fully step out, Valentina's voice drifted to them one last time. "And that's 2-1," she called out, already preparing to slip into the steaming jacuzzi.

  A slow smile spread across Azarias' face. "She really is my type," he murmured, more to himself than to Anna. With that, he left the room fully, Anna trailing quickly behind him, her mind whirling with questions she dared not voice.

  [1,307th floor]

  The vast chamber that housed Leonardo's broken form was a stark contrast to the opulence they had just left behind. It was larger even than Adelaide's room, a cavernous space that seemed to swallow sound and light. The absence of Adelaide herself was noticeable, the room feeling emptier for her lack of presence.

  At the far end of the room stood an imposing desk, its surface a gleaming expanse of polished wood that reflected the warm light cast by the enormous mirror hanging behind it. The mirror stretched from floor to ceiling, its frame an intricate work of art in itself, carved with symbols and patterns that seemed to shift if one looked too long.

  Opposite the desk, directly across the room, was the entrance—a heavy door of dark wood and metal. To the side of the door, a mini library stood sentinel, a single board filled to bursting with What ever materials could be found. The spines of the books bore titles in languages both familiar and utterly alien, hinting at the wealth of knowledge contained within.

  But it was the center of the room that drew the eye and held it. There, suspended in a nightmarish amalgamation of metal and tubing, hung Leonardo. The machine that held him upright was a marvel of engineering and a horror to behold. It seemed to be crafted from the same material as the bath he had foolishly attempted to use earlier—a silvery metal that seemed to absorb light rather than reflect it.

  Leonardo's body was a map of pain and endurance. His wrists, chest, and legs were held fast by mechanical restraints, each one precisely placed to support his shattered frame. Various instruments pierced his flesh, some removing fluids, others pumping in a cocktail of medicines and nanites designed to knit bone and mend tissue.

  His face was obscured by something akin to a gas mask, the apparatus strapped tightly to the back of the machine. A complex network of tubes snaked from the mask, weaving in and out of the metallic structure like the roots of some mechanical tree. The entire setup pulsed with a rhythm that might have been Leonardo's heartbeat, amplified and externalized by the alien technology.

  This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

  Henri stood before this grim tableau, his voice tinged with a mix of admiration and concern as he addressed the unconscious form. "That was pretty reckless of you. But it was a survival move." His words seemed to hang in the air, unanswered by the silent figure before him.

  His adaptive evolution flickered to life near Leonardo's head, scrolling with data too fast for the human eye to follow. One phrase stood out, repeating at regular intervals: [Anti bodies]. It seemed the machine was using Leonardo's own adaptive evolution to protect his body from the very processes meant to save him.

  The tension in the room was palpable, a heavy blanket of worry and uncertainty that was suddenly shattered by the burst of movement at the door. Anna erupted into the chamber, her eyes wild with concern.

  "Dad! Where's Leona—my Guide!" she exclaimed as she barged through the room instantly, her words tumbling out in a rush as she made for Henri's desk. But her forward momentum faltered as her gaze was inexorably drawn to the suspended form of Leonardo.

  The sight of him, shirtless and vulnerable, his lower half clad only in tattered trousers, caused Anna to stumble back. The network of tubes and wires that crisscrossed his body made him look more machine than man, and Anna felt a wave of nausea threaten to overwhelm her.

  "What happened to him?" The question left her lips in a whisper, fear making her voice tremble.

  Henri's response was clinical, detached. "Almost all the bones in his body are broken. Internal damage is extensive, organs definitely rearranged. I mean, the boy jumped from a three-story building—and not your average one at that."

  Anna's next question came haltingly, as if she dreaded the answer. "Is he going to be alright?"

  Henri's gaze never left Leonardo's suspended form as he replied, "He has 40 hours to either die and go to the realm above, or come back alive."

  "Wait, doesn't that disqualify u—" Anna began, her mind racing. The exploration quest hadn't even begun, and their guide already teetered on the brink of death.

  "No," Henri cut her off. "You'll be able to pick another guide. The issues with the boy... Ryuji says it's allowed."

  Anna's voice was small, her eyes still fixed on Leonardo's broken body. "That boy..."

  The moment was shattered by a familiar voice from beyond the door. "Anna?" It was Elara, her tone light and unaware of the gravity within the room.

  Without hesitation, Henri activated his skill, forcing the door closed with a resounding thud. The act of locking it proved a minor challenge, but one he overcame swiftly.

  "Huh? Hello?" Elara's confusion was evident as she knocked repeatedly on the unyielding door.

  Anna faltered, unsure how to respond without lying outright to her sister. "Uh, Elara, we're dealing with the—"

  "Business," Henri interjected smoothly, leaving no room for questions.

  Elara's voice came back instantly, skepticism clear in her tone. "Didn't you get hit with the compensation? What business?" There was a pause before she continued, hope creeping into her words, "You're back, Dad?"

  Henri's response was as swift as it was fabricated. "Business dealing with the placement of pixies."

  "PIXIES?" Elara's excitement was palpable, even through the thick door. "Can I join?!"

  "They're dead," Henri replied flatly, his tone brooking no argument. "So leave, baby. Don't worry about it now."

  The sound of Elara's faint sobs receded as she left, her footsteps echoing in the corridor outside.

  Anna turned to her father, her expression a mix of disbelief and disappointment. "Was that necessary?"

  Ignoring her question, Henri pressed on with their previous conversation. "Anyway, back to what I said—he'll be going to a different realm."

  The statement hit Anna like a physical blow. "What—"

  Henri waved his hand dismissively, his exhaustion evident in the gesture. "Life after death, reincarnation, transmigration? Take your pick."

  "I know what they mean, Dad," Anna retorted, her frustration mounting. "But he isn't dead, right?"

  Henri's response was blunt, almost cruel in its honesty. "He is. That machine is clinging to every little bit of life he has left. And from what I've seen, he's just a regular human. Adept, at best."

  "We're all adept, Dad," Anna countered, inching closer to the desk with each exchange.

  "Alright, but he's below human," Henri continued, his tone dismissive. "I mean, 5'1"? Aymara is a bit taller than him, and she's 14. Or 13? I forgot."

  "Dad... chance, rate, anything..." Anna pleaded, refusing to accept the finality of Leonardo's fate. Then, a thought struck her. "Wait, Dad, what if the tour guide has a son?"

  Henri's response was immediate. "The tour guide can't have a son."

  "He told you that?" Anna pressed, sensing a glimmer of hope.

  "I mean, no, but—" Henri began, his certainty wavering for the first time.

  "He's the tour guide's son." Anna was fully at the desk now, her hands pressed firmly against its polished surface, her eyes boring into her father's.

  The room fell silent, the only sound the steady hum of the machine keeping Leonardo alive. The desk, a masterpiece of craftsmanship, bore the weight of Anna's declaration. Its surface was adorned with holographic displays, each one flickering with data streams and reports from across the stem. A sleek, futuristic monitor rose from one corner, its screen currently dark but ready to spring to life at a moment's notice.

  Henri's expression shifted from disbelief to shock, his composure cracking for the first time since Anna had entered. "What." The word hung in the air, heavy with implications and unasked questions.

  As father and daughter stared at each other, the machine holding Leonardo gave a soft beep, a new line of data scrolling across its display. The fate of the young guide hung in the balance, his life and death intertwined with secrets yet to be unraveled.

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