Chapter 124: Chapter 118: Spotlight
Back in the room, some time passed, and Cass finally woke up. The sight he saw made him believe, for a moment, that he was still asleep and dreaming. Zeke had clothes strewn all over his bed and looked utterly perplexed, standing in the middle of the chaos. This was strange. Zeke never cared about clothes. In his own words: "I’d look good even if I were wearing a potato sack."
Cass stretched, then got up to wash his face. When he returned, Zeke was still at it, holding a shirt up to himself as if the fabric contained the meaning of life.
"Hey, Zeke, what’s up?" Cass asked.
"Nothing. I just can’t decide what to wear," Zeke replied without looking up.
Cass raised an eyebrow. "You? Clothes? Come on, all of these look great on you. You said it yourself—"
"Yeah, yeah, I said that," Zeke cut him off, his voice unusually tense. "But today is different. Today has to be perfect."
Cass chuckled and said, "Why? It’s not like you’re meeting my future sister-in-law or something."
He was only joking, but the moment he saw Zeke’s face, the grin froze on his lips. "Shit. Really?"
Zeke nodded, his usual bravado replaced by a rare meekness. He ran a hand through his hair, letting out a shaky breath. For once, he looked less like the confident prodigy Cass knew and more like an ordinary teenager.
Cass grabbed his shoulders, shaking him slightly. "Why didn’t you say anything before?"
Zeke sighed. "I would’ve, if I knew beforehand. In my other life, I didn’t join the War Academy. And she didn’t reach the finals."
Cass frowned. "Butterfly effect?"
"Fucking butterfly effect," Zeke muttered, pacing the room. "I was just checking the list of candidates—because why not—and there it was. Her name."
Cass hesitated. "You’re sure it’s her? Couldn’t it just be someone else with the same name?"
Zeke shot him a flat look. "Gee, I didn’t think of that. Of course it’s her, you dumbass."
Cass raised his hands in surrender. "Alright, loverboy, calm down. No need to get all snappy on me."
Zeke groaned in frustration and dove back into the pile of clothes. He held up a dark green shirt, then tossed it aside. A faint, almost imperceptible tremor ran through his fingers as he picked up the next one.
Cass leaned against the doorframe, smirking. "Damn, to think someone could stand your shitty personality other than me."
Zeke glared at him. A faint shimmer appeared in the air above Cass’s head, and before he could react, a torrent of water splashed down on him.
"Oops," Zeke said, his expression deadpan. "Just wishing you a good fucking morning."
Cass wiped his face with his sleeve, glaring. "You’ll regret this, you know."
Already drenched, he decided to take a shower. When he came out, drying his hair with a towel, a thought struck him. "Wait... does this mean the plan is a no-go?"
Zeke paused mid-fold of a shirt. "No. We’ll continue as planned."
"But—"
"Don’t worry about it," Zeke interrupted. "I’ll handle it."
Before Cass could argue further, Dean strode into the room. His sharp eyes scanned the bed and the scattered clothing, his lips curling into a smirk.
"You know what? I’m not even going to ask," Dean said, shaking his head.
"Good morning, Uncle Dean," Cass greeted, trying to suppress a grin.
"Morning. Just one question. Why aren’t you two in your battle suits?"
The boys blinked, confused. Zeke tilted his head. "What battle suits?"
Dean sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Right. The ones..." He opened his independent space, pulling out two sleek black battle suits. "...that I forgot to tell you about. My bad. Quickly change into these. It’s almost reporting time."
He tossed the suits to them and left without another word. Cass barely suppressed a snort. Zeke shot him a warning look and said, "It won’t be just water this time."
"It wasn’t me," Cass said, grinning.
Zeke waved a hand, and the pile of clothes vanished into his space ring. Grumbling, he headed to the bathroom to change. The battle suit consisted of a sleeveless tee and slacks, both jet black and made from Niklas Silk—a fabric renowned for its toughness and flexibility. It fit perfectly, the tee even accommodating slits for their wings. Zeke styled his long hair into a Bjorn braid, tying it back tightly, while Cass, with his short military cut, kept things simple.
When they were ready, they met up with Dean. Seeing them, Dean nodded in approval. "Alright. Head to the waiting area. I need to deal with some other issues. Good luck."
"We’ll see you later," Zeke said as they left.
After passing a series of identity checks, they reached the waiting room, where the other participants were gathering. The moment they entered, all conversation seemed to stop. Eyes turned toward them, and the room buzzed with murmurs.
"Is that them? The heirs of Neo-Nephilim Pharmaceuticals?"
"They don’t look like the other Neo-Nephilim."
"Why does one of them have horns?"
Cass caught snippets of the whispers and rolled his eyes. But one group in particular stood out. They didn’t speak, but their piercing stares said enough. There was something unnerving about the way they watched the boys. It wasn’t curiosity. It was challenge. Battle lust.
Cass’s voice slipped through their bond. "They must be the Imperials."
"They are," Zeke replied calmly. "Whatever happened yesterday has them all fired up."
"Did something happen?" Cass asked.
"I just know that something did," Zeke admitted. "Uncle Dean won’t tell me the details."
Cass glanced at the tallest of the group, a young man with bluish grey eyes and a body that resembled a bear. His intense gaze burned with unspoken promise. The sharpness in his aura was impossible to miss, radiating a desire for conflict that made Cass’s skin itch.
"Let them look," Zeke said, his tone firm. "They’ll get their chance soon enough."
Cass smirked to himself. This was going to be interesting.
