"Your punishment will be severe for this transgression, Trevor," Jeremiah said, his voice carrying a quiet authority that seemed to make the air itself grow still. "I knew your judgment was questionable, but this display has exceeded even my lowest expectations."
The massive beast-form of Trevor seemed to shrink beneath his superior's gaze, muscles receding and fur beginning to retract as he gradually returned to a more human appearance.
Jeremiah turned to Michael, his expression softening slightly as he regarded the young man. "You must be Michael Florescent. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I am Jeremiah Clover, Rank 1 of the Heptad."
Michael straightened his posture and offered a respectful bow, despite the pain that still radiated through his healing body. "The honor is entirely mine, Lord Jeremiah," he replied with genuine admiration. "I have followed your accomplishments with great interest since my childhood. Your reputation for both strength and wisdom precedes you."
A gentle touch on his arm drew Michael's attention. Violet stood beside him, her healing powers having mended her own injuries. "In case you haven't noticed, we're all recovered now, Michael," she said with a small smile.
"I am most relieved to see you well, Violet," Michael responded, his eyes reflecting sincere concern as they briefly examined her for any lingering injuries.
Lord Bale stepped forward, his regal bearing undiminished despite the battle damage to his attire. "Lord Jeremiah, perhaps we should continue this discussion in more appropriate surroundings," he suggested, gesturing toward the partially collapsed structures around them. "The Royal Chasm has several intact conference chambers where we might speak professionally."
"A sound suggestion," Jeremiah agreed with a nod. Turning to Trevor, who had fully reverted to human form—a lean, predatory man with elongated canines and amber eyes—he added, "Return to the Eternal Tower immediately. Cause no further disturbances. We will discuss your insubordination later."
Trevor's eyes darted between Jeremiah and Michael, a mixture of resentment and fear evident in his expression, before he departed without another word.
***
The conference chamber within the Royal Chasm stood untouched by the battle that had raged outside. Polished stone walls reflected the warm glow of crystal lamps, while an ornate table of dark wood dominated the center of the room. Five high-backed chairs surrounded it, each carved with intricate designs that told stories of the Undercity's history.
As they settled around the table, servants brought refreshments—steaming tea served in delicate porcelain cups, the aroma of rare herbs filling the air. Michael noted with appreciation how Lord Bale maintained such civility even in the depths of the Undercity, a testament to his leadership.
"I must offer my sincerest apologies for my subordinate's actions," Jeremiah began, his hands folded neatly before him. "I dispatched him merely to initiate a dialogue, not to engage in combat. Trevor's... enthusiasm... often outpaces his judgment."
He paused, taking a measured sip of his tea before continuing. "I've come to discuss a matter of grave importance regarding Michael Florescent. Our intelligence has confirmed that he is indeed the son of Steel. As you may be aware, exploiter abilities transfer through bloodlines, often intensifying with each generation."
Jeremiah's gaze shifted to Michael. "Steel's power—the ability to create and manipulate metal—is particularly hazardous when improperly mastered. To prevent potential casualties and to ensure Michael's wellbeing, we propose that he accompany me to the Uppercity. There, he would receive proper training to control his inherited abilities under controlled conditions. I assure you he would be treated with the utmost respect and dignity."
"I must object," Violet interjected, her voice firm despite addressing one of the most powerful individuals in their world. "Michael Florescent is needed here. He serves as our supreme commander, and his contributions to the Undercity have been invaluable. What evidence do we have that he would even—"
"I shall accept your proposal," Michael interrupted gently, placing his teacup down with a soft clink. "If there exists any possibility that I might become a danger similar to my father, I cannot in good conscience remain here among those I have sworn to protect."
Violet's expression fell, her hand unconsciously reaching toward Michael before withdrawing.
James nodded solemnly. "Michael fought harder than any of us to defeat Steel. If this is what's needed to prevent history from repeating itself, then we must support his decision." He turned to Michael, eyes reflecting both pride and sorrow. "The Undercity will stand strong in your absence. We will continue what you started."
Jeremiah rose from his seat with fluid grace. "If the matter is settled, I suggest we depart without delay. The sooner Michael's training begins, the better for all concerned."
Michael stood as well, straightening the tattered remains of his uniform. In that moment, Violet abandoned protocol and rushed forward, wrapping her arms around him in a fierce embrace.
"Please take care of yourself, Michael," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "Remember that you always have a place here, regardless of how long you're gone."
Michael returned the embrace with careful tenderness. "I shall endeavor to make you proud, Violet. Your healing touch has saved me countless times—not merely my body, but my spirit as well."
James joined them, placing a strong hand on Michael's shoulder before pulling both into a three-way hug. "This isn't goodbye, brother," he said, his usually stoic face betraying a flash of emotion. "This is just ensuring that the nightmare we lived through with Steel never happens again. Become stronger than he ever was, but remain the man we've come to respect."
As they separated, Lord Bale approached. Rather than embracing Michael, he extended his arm. When Michael clasped it in the traditional Undercity warrior's grip, Bale pulled him slightly closer.
"You've earned the title of Warrior many times over," Bale said quietly, his eyes conveying what his formal nature would not allow him to express openly. "The Undercity will await your return, whenever that may be."
Michael bowed deeply to him. "I shall carry the lessons you've taught me, Lord Bale, and represent the Undercity with honor in the world above."
Word of Michael's departure spread quickly through the Undercity. As he made his way toward the ascension platforms, citizens lined the pathways. Some bowed respectfully, others called out words of gratitude or encouragement. Children who had once feared him for his crimson eyes now gazed at him with admiration.
An elderly woman approached, pressing a small carved figurine into his hand—a crimson bird with outstretched wings. "To remember us by, Commander," she said with a trembling voice. "And to remind you that even those who fly high above can always find their way home."
Michael accepted the gift with a formal bow. "I shall treasure this token, madam, and the sentiment behind it even more so."
At the ascension platform, Michael turned for one final look at the realm he had helped to transform from a place of desperation to one of growing hope. Despite the destruction from the recent battle, he could see the spirit of resilience that had always defined the Undercity's people.
"Until we meet again," he said softly, before stepping onto the platform beside Jeremiah.
***
The journey to the Uppercity was unlike anything Michael had experienced. As they ascended through the various levels, the air gradually changed—from the recycled, somewhat stale atmosphere of the Undercity to something increasingly fresh and invigorating.
When they finally emerged above ground, Michael involuntarily gasped. The sky—something he had seen only in old photographs and faded memories from his earliest childhood—stretched endlessly above him, a canvas of blue adorned with wispy clouds. The sensation was akin to having lived his entire life underwater, only to finally break the surface and draw a true breath.
"Magnificent, isn't it?" Jeremiah observed, noting Michael's expression. "No matter how comfortable one's accommodations below, nothing quite compares to the open sky."
"Indeed," Michael agreed, unable to tear his gaze from the horizon. "One forgets what one has never truly known."
They were escorted to Land Etherna, the central domain of the Uppercity's governance. The architecture was a breathtaking blend of classical grandeur and technological advancement—soaring spires of crystalline material that caught the sunlight and refracted it in dazzling patterns, walkways that seemed to float unsupported between buildings, and gardens that defied gravity, cascading in vertical columns of vibrant greenery.
At the heart of Land Etherna stood the Eternal Tower, headquarters of the Heptad. Within its hallowed halls, they were brought before Alpha, the anchor of Land Etherna and supreme authority of the region.
Michael and Jeremiah bowed deeply in unison, with Trevor—now fully human and notably subdued—following suit with less grace.
"Lord Alpha," Jeremiah said, "I have made the decision to personally oversee Michael Florescent's training, both physically and mentally, to help him master the power to control and manipulate metal that he has inherited from Steel."
Alpha—a figure of imposing presence despite his seemingly average physical build—regarded Michael with penetrating eyes. "Well done, Jeremiah," he said, his voice resonating with natural authority. "And well done to you as well, Michael Florescent. Your actions against Steel have not gone unnoticed. I am pleased with what I've heard of your character."
Michael felt a surge of unexpected emotion at this recognition. He lowered his head respectfully. "L-Lord Alpha, I am profoundly grateful for your kind assessment. To stand in your presence is an honor I never anticipated, let alone to receive such praise."
A slight smile crossed Alpha's face. "Humility becomes you, young man. Now," he turned to Jeremiah, "show him to his quarters and introduce him to any Heptad members currently in residence." His gaze shifted to Trevor, hardening noticeably. "As for you, Trevor, your punishment will be restriction from the communal dining hall for one week. Perhaps hunger will teach you restraint where words have failed."
***
As they exited Alpha's chambers and entered the grand corridor of the Eternal Tower, Michael absorbed the magnificence of his surroundings. Ceilings arched impossibly high overhead, adorned with moving frescos depicting historical events. The marble floor beneath their feet was inlaid with patterns that seemed to shift subtly as they walked, while the air itself carried a hint of something Michael couldn't quite identify—perhaps the scent of power itself.
"You will be assigned quarters of the high quality," Jeremiah explained as they walked. "Equal to those of myself and Trevor, befitting your status as a trainee under my direct supervision."
As they traversed the central hall, Michael noticed a figure standing near one of the massive windows. There was something hauntingly familiar about the silhouette—a young man with golden hair that caught the sunlight streaming through the glass, his posture conveying both confidence and a certain restlessness.
The stranger turned, revealing eyes of vibrant amber that widened in shock as they locked onto Michael. For a moment, time seemed suspended as recognition dawned on both faces simultaneously.
"Michael?" the young man whispered, his voice carrying across the hall. "Michael Florescent?"
Michael felt his composure waver, memories cascading through his mind. "Alfred? Is that truly you?"
Alfred's face transformed with a radiant smile as tears gathered in his eyes. With youthful exuberance that contrasted with the formal atmosphere of the Eternal Tower, he rushed forward and embraced Michael tightly.
"It really is you!" Alfred exclaimed, his voice trembling with emotion. "After all these years! Do you remember me? Alfred Florescent, from the orphanage! We shared a room for three years before I was taken away!"
Michael returned the embrace with equal fervor, propriety momentarily forgotten in the joy of reunion. "Of course I remember you, Alfred. How could I forget the boy who stood up for me when others bullied me? The one who shared his extra portions when I was given no dinner?"
Alfred pulled back slightly, holding Michael at arm's length to study his face. "Look at you now—all grown up and formal! I heard rumors that a crimson-eyed warrior had risen to prominence in the Undercity, but I never dared hope it might be you."
"And you," Michael gestured to Alfred's attire, which bore insignias of considerable rank, "have clearly found your path as well. Your presence here suggests achievements of significant merit."
Alfred laughed, the sound bright and nostalgic. "Always so proper with your words, even as a child! Some things never change." His expression grew more serious, his hands squeezing Michael's shoulders. "But we have both changed in many ways, haven't we? There's so much to tell you—about what happened after I left, about the trials to enter service here, about everything."
Jeremiah cleared his throat gently. "I take it you two are acquainted?"
Alfred straightened immediately, offering a formal bow to Jeremiah. "My apologies, Lord Jeremiah. Michael and I grew up together at the Florescent Orphanage before our paths diverged."
"No apology necessary," Jeremiah replied. "Such connections are rare and valuable. However, I must inquire—where are the other Heptad members? I was informed they would be present for Michael's arrival."
Alfred's expression shifted to one of slight discomfort. "I was the only one who made it back, sir. The others... had their reasons for delay." He turned back to Michael, regret evident in his features. "I'm afraid I must depart as well—duties that cannot wait. But I will visit you very soon, old friend. We have years to catch up on."
With a final embrace, Alfred reluctantly pulled away. "Until soon, Michael. My quarters are in the eastern wing—just ask any attendant to direct you, once you're settled."
As Alfred departed, Jeremiah led Michael to an ornate door near the end of a quieter corridor. "This will be your room," he said, producing an intricately designed key that seemed to be made of crystal rather than metal. "From this moment forward, you may address me as Master if you want, as is proper for one under my tutelage."
Michael nodded respectfully. "I understand, Master."
The door swung open silently, revealing quarters that exceeded even Michael's heightened expectations. Sunlight streamed through floor-to-ceiling windows that offered a breathtaking view of the Uppercity. The furnishings were elegant yet practical—a massive four-poster bed with linens of the finest quality, a study area with shelves already stocked with relevant texts, comfortable seating arranged near an artful fireplace, and doorways leading to what appeared to be private bathing facilities and a meditation chamber.
"These quarters..." Michael began, momentarily at a loss for words.
"Are now yours," Jeremiah finished for him. "Rest today. Tomorrow, your training begins." With that, he departed, leaving Michael alone with his thoughts.
Michael walked slowly to the windows, gazing out at the Uppercity spread before him—all gleaming towers and verdant gardens, so unlike the shadowed realm he had called home for so long. Somewhere far below lay the Undercity, with its people who had come to trust and depend on him.
He placed his hand against the cool glass, feeling the warmth of the sun through it. "I shall return stronger," he promised quietly to those he had left behind. "Strong enough to protect you all, without becoming the threat my father was."
Michael turned back to survey his new quarters, determined to embrace this next chapter of his journey with the same dignity and resolve that had carried him this far.
[End of Volume 1: Crimson Angel]