C11-R14-3448 A.E. — Afternoon
Ashport Inner District, SW-2 — Luminaris Ward
Ashport Disposal & Recovery HQ — Executive Wing
Kael stepped out of his office, the chrome and glass still glinting under Luminaris Ward’s sunlight. His inner world’s 10x deceleration—0.009 Prana/day, stretching 48 hours to 20 days—burned in his mind, a plan to hunt beasts and buy mithril, orichalcum, and mana stones taking shape. But first, Lira. Theron Vex’s sabotage needed her brain.
He crossed the executive wing of Ashport Disposal & Recovery’s headquarters, the glass-and-steel tower pulsing with runes. Lira’s office door was open, her silhouette sharp against a digital display of waste metrics.
He stepped into the threshold of her office. The scent of citrus tea drifted faintly from within. “Lira,” Kael said, leaning against the frame. “You look… incredible today. Everything good? You, the company?”
Lira looked up, her sharp eyes softening, a stack of contracts neatly aligned on her desk. Her dark blouse was crisp, sleeves rolled, hands still dusted faintly with ink from signed contracts. The fatigue of long hours was there—but she wore it like armor, not a burden.
“Better than good, Kael. Better than expected.” Her voice was polished, Luminaris Ward crisp. “The digestion talent recruitment’s ahead of schedule. We’ve got a solid crew—E-rank and up, and no poaching from competitors either. We successfully fended off a few sharks trying to steal our best.”
Kael raised an eyebrow, sliding into a chair. “Sharks, huh? Who?”
“Small fries. A few rival firms in the outer wards. They didn’t stand a chance.”
She flicked a finger across her tablet, bringing up another display. “And that’s not the biggest news.”
He raised an eyebrow. “No?”
“We just landed a commission from the Ashport Games Committee. It's a full-scale urban overhaul. They're flattening most of the exterior ring districts and rebuilding them from the ground up. New walls, new roads, mana rail expansion. Infrastructure contracts in the billions. We'll get a good portion of that.”
Kael’s mouth went dry. “Billions?”
“Billions,” Lira confirmed, deadpan. “We’re handling debris removal, old structure recycling, waste mana neutralization—the whole backend.” She tossed the tablet on the desk. “And get this—Ashport recently activated our first nuclear mana facility. Nuclear-grade artificial mana production. It would normally cost the city a fortune in hazardous waste disposal, but we have you. Now we can do it for pennies on the dollar and still make hundreds of millions in profit from this venture alone. This orbit.”
Kael let out a slow whistle. “You’re actually terrifying.”
“I try.”
“Nah,” he said, eyes softening. “You’re brilliant. I mean it. Without you, I’d be grindin' to hit seven figures. You turned scrap into an empire.”
Her smile faded into something gentler. “You gave me the chance, Kael. Gave me a stake, trusted me to lead. When no one else even returned my calls.” She paused, the silence between them laced with something unspoken. “But if you really want to thank me…”
Kael tilted his head. “Yeah?”
“…Take me out. For my birthday.” Her voice was light, but her gaze was steady. “Dinner. Just us. Somewhere real. Somewhere you don’t walk out with grease on your boots.”
Kael blinked. Shit. Her birthday. He’d already planned the surprise party. Sera, Malik, even his mom had helped. But still.
“Uh, yeah,” he said, scratching the back of his neck with a sheepish grin. “Course. Somewhere fancy. Luminaris style.”
Lira laughed—a short, bright sound he didn’t hear often enough. “I’ll hold you to it.”
Kael leaned back in the chair, arms crossed loosely over his chest. Lira’s rundown—the billions from the Ascension Games contract, the nuclear mana plant pulling in hundreds of millions—still buzzed in his ears like a second heartbeat. But it wasn’t the numbers that had him off-balance. It was the birthday dinner. The way she’d asked. Casual, sure, but not empty. It landed deeper than he’d expected.
He rubbed the back of his neck, eyes drifting toward the luminous cityscape outside her window. “Speakin’ of your birthday… how you feelin’ ‘bout awakenin’? You excited? One day ‘til you’re officially an adult.” The Brinewatch in his voice bled through without apology.
Lira’s fingers stilled over her tablet. Her expression softened, and for a moment, the executive polish of Luminaris Ward slipped—just enough for something raw to surface. “Nervous,” she admitted, leaning back. Her voice dropped a note lower, quieter. “I’m hoping for something brain-based. Strategic. Something to widen the gap between me and the competition.” She gave a half-smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “But… I’m also scared. I’ve already built all this without a talent. What if I get something worse than useless? Something detrimental?”
Kael studied her. She wasn’t fishing for pity, not Lira. But doubt—that was rare. He tilted his head. “Detrimental? What d'you mean? Both your folks have strong talents, right? What were they?”
Her smile faltered. “Yeah… I don't really know what my mom had—just that it was C-rank. Dad has C-rank Total Recall.” She exhaled slowly. “Perfect memory, permanently accessible. Sounds good on paper. But in practice…” Her voice tightened. “It’s hell, Kael. Every second he’s ever lived—he relives it. In real time. Losing Mom, his friends turning on him... It never fades. Never softens. He wakes up every day feeling it all over again.”
Kael sat forward, gut hollowing. “Shit. That’s…”
“Yeah.” She nodded once, as if that single motion could cut off the ache. “He drinks to shut it off. It’s the only thing that blurs the memories, even a little. I’ve been looking for someone who can help.” Her eyes flicked to the corner of her desk, unfocused. “I tracked down a memory-wiper in the Eastern States. Legit talent holder. She says she can erase the pain... but Dad’s not sure. He says wiping her death would be erasing what’s left of her.”
Kael didn’t speak right away. Just let the silence hold. Then, softly: “You’ve done more for him than most in similar situations.”
She offered a smile—thin, but real. “It’s alright. I’ve made peace with it. I’ve already crushed every short-term goal I set without a talent. So I know I’ll make it work. Whatever I awaken into, I’ll weaponize it.”
Kael met her gaze, firm. “You will. You’re a storm in a world of breezes, Lira.”
That drew a fuller smile from her. Genuine this time, teeth and warmth and something almost bashful at the edges. She tapped her tablet, shifting the glowing data readouts.
“Now,” she said, eyes gleaming, “I’ve got a surprise for you.”
“AGE Magazine reached out,” Lira said, trying—and failing—to keep the excitement out of her voice. “They want me on the cover. AGE Businesswoman of the Orbit.” Her eyes sparkled. “And get this—I’m also on their Top 20 Under 20 Most Productive Youths in the World.”
Kael froze mid-step. His jaw dropped. “You’re messin’ with me.”
Lira raised an eyebrow.
“Wait—nah, for real?” he said, his Brinewatch accent slipping in. “That’s insane. Lira, that’s… huge!”
She started to smile, but Kael cut in with a sheepish grin. “Funny thing, though. I, uh… got a message too. Entrepreneur of the Orbit.” He scratched the back of his neck. “And one of their Top 20 Under 20 Up-and-Comin’ Millionaires.”
Lira blinked—then broke into laughter. Bright, unfiltered, the sound echoed through the office like sunlight cutting through steel-gray clouds. “You’re joking.”
“Swear on Sera’s cooking.”
“Damn.” She grinned, pacing a little. “Both of us?”
Kael leaned back in his chair, folding his arms behind his head. “Looks like Ashport Disposal & Recovery’s officially takin’ over.”
“Hell yes, we are.”
Kael raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Wait… I’m the owner and CEO, but you’re on the cover?”
Lira didn’t miss a beat. “Yeah. Because I actually do business.”
Kael clutched his chest like he’d been shot. “Ouch. That’s cold.”
She grinned. “Come on, Kael—you’d rather eat buildings and talk to shady scrap dealers than sit through a camera crew yelling about lighting angles, anyways.”
He couldn’t argue with that. “Fair. But next time they want a 'gritty genius founder' angle, I’m sendin’ ‘em my sewer-wading boots and letting the boots do the interview.”
“Perfect,” Lira said. “They’ll probably nominate them next year.”
She pulled back her tablet and tapped it again.
“AGE said they’re sending a whole media crew to HQ tomorrow. They want to do everything on-site—photos, interviews, candid footage of our work day. Said they want ‘authentic Ashport energy.’” She rolled her eyes a little at the phrasing, but her pride peeked through.
Kael checked his ArkSeal. “Same here. Morning call time. They said they’ll be shadowin’ me the whole day—warehouse, food runs, all of it.” His smirk grew. “Looks like we’re gettin’ documented like a pair of endangered species.”
Lira’s eyes gleamed. “I love it. We built this thing from Brinewatch grit and Glassmere ingenuity. Let them see it raw.”
“Tomorrow’s gonna be fun,” Kael replied with a big smile.
She grinned, fierce and bright. “Let’s show the world what Ashport Disposal & Recovery is really made of.”
She extended her hand, mock-formal, eyes gleaming. “Congratulations, Entrepreneur of the Orbit.”
Kael clasped it, matching her tone. “And to you, Businesswoman of the Orbit.”
Their laughter mingled again—easy, unforced—filling the room with something rare and unspoken. For a moment, there was no sabotage, no looming danger, no pressure of awakening. Just the two of them, standing on the edge of something incredible.
Kael made a quiet decision then. The Theron Vex problem could wait. Lira deserved to enjoy this, to focus on her. One day of peace—he could give her that.
