The Prophecy (1/2)

Xavier was falling through an endless void, his body weightless yet moving with purpose. The darkness around him was absolute, a sensory deprivation that left him untethered from reality. He reached out with his hands, feeling nothing but the faint resistance of empty space. His legs kicked as if swimming through an invisible ocean, propelling him nowhere and everywhere at once.

Then, through the silence, a sound emerged. A melody - faint at first, then growing clearer. It was familiar yet unrecognizable, like a half-remembered dream. Xavier focused on the music, letting it pull him through the darkness. Suddenly, sensation returned to his body. He felt pressure against his back, soft yet firm. His shoulders tingled where fingers traced delicate patterns. Hands brushed his cheeks, played with his hair, explored his body with practiced intimacy.

The music swelled, and with it, Xavier's vision returned. He found himself seated in the back of a sleek hovercar, its interior bathed in dim neon lighting. On either side of him sat two girls, their forms draped in revealing clothing that accentuated their curves. Their hands moved over his body with practiced ease, their laughter like wind chimes in the confined space.

Xavier blinked, trying to clear his vision. But where their faces should have been, there were only scribbles - chaotic lines and doodles that shifted when he tried to focus. One girl's "face" was a swirling mass of geometric shapes, the other's a constantly changing pattern of abstract strokes.

"Am I dreaming?" Xavier muttered, but the sensations were too real - the warmth of their skin against his, the scent of their perfume, the hum of the car's engines.

The vehicle came to a smooth stop. The door opened, revealing another girl standing outside. Like the others, her face was a shifting mass of scribbles, though her body was perfectly formed. "We've arrived," she said, her voice melodic yet somehow hollow.

Xavier looked out at their destination - an abandoned multi-story factory looming against the night sky. Its broken windows glowed with eerie light, and the air carried the scent of rust and something darker. Danger radiated from the place like heat from a furnace.

Xavier didn't know what to say in response. He didn't even know what was going on. His body moved almost of its own accord, his voice speaking words he hadn't consciously chosen: "Stay in the car. I'll return shortly."

The girl protested, but Xavier was already stepping onto the cracked pavement. His movements felt disconnected, as if he were watching himself from outside his body. The factory's entrance yawned before him, a massive metal door scarred with age and neglect.

'Wait, what's going on? I can't control my body!' Xavier panicked. It was as if he was watching a video in the POV angle.

Xavier raised his hand and knocked. A small panel slid open at eye level, revealing a pair of cybernetic eyes that scanned him with cold precision. "I'm here to claim what's mine."

The door groaned open, revealing a cavernous interior. Hundreds of armed men filled the space, their cybernetic enhancements glinting in the dim light. They stood in perfect formation around a central dais where a massive figure sat enthroned.

The man was middle-aged and obese, his bulk spilling over the edges of his reinforced chair. Gold teeth glinted in his mouth as he smiled, and his cyberware - gold-plated and ornate - whirred softly as he shifted his weight. His eyes, cold and calculating, locked onto Xavier with predatory interest.

"Welcome," the man rumbled, his voice like gravel. "We've been expecting you."

Xavier's body moved forward on its own, stepping into the factory's depths as the door slammed shut behind him. The music from the car still echoed in his mind, now joined by the rhythmic hum of machinery and the distant sound of waves crashing against unseen shores.

Xavier's gaze locked onto the massive figure before him. "Viktor," he said, the name rolling off his tongue with unexpected familiarity.

Viktor's gold teeth glinted as his smile widened. "Well, well. If it isn't our special guest."

Xavier moved with eerie grace, settling onto the plush leather couch that faced Viktor's throne. He stretched his arms along the backrest, his posture relaxed despite the hundreds of armed men surrounding them. "I'm feeling thirsty," he announced. "Bring me something nice. Something warm."

Viktor's laughter boomed through the cavernous space. "This isn't some five-star hotel, boy. Don't forget where you are."

Xavier's eyes flicked around the room, taking in the sea of cybernetic soldiers. Not just on this floor, but on all five levels of the factory, their weapons trained on him. Every single one of them watched him with predatory focus.

He sighed dramatically. "Fine. Then bring 'it' here."

Viktor raised a meaty hand, signaling to his men. Two soldiers emerged from the shadows, carrying a polished mahogany box between them. They placed it reverently on the table before Xavier, then stepped back into formation.

Xavier reached for the box, but Viktor's cybernetic hand shot out, stopping him. "Payment first."

Xavier's lips curled into a smirk. "I need to verify its authenticity before payment."

Viktor's eyes narrowed. "You're in no position to make demands."

Xavier let out a sharp laugh. "Look around you. Five hundred armed men, all ready to kill me at your signal. And yet you're afraid to let me see what I came to buy." He leaned forward, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "What's the matter, Viktor? Afraid I'll find out you're selling fakes?"

The room tensed. Viktor's cybernetic fingers twitched, the servos whirring softly. After a long moment, he nodded. "Open it."

Xavier's hands moved with deliberate slowness, lifting the lid to reveal its contents. Nestled in velvet was a single rock - unremarkable at first glance, but radiating an otherworldly energy. The Fragment of Goddess Astrea.

A genuine smile spread across Xavier's face as he gazed upon it. He reached out, letting his fingers hover just above the surface, feeling its power resonate through him. Then, with equal care, he closed the box.

"It's authentic," he confirmed, his voice carrying the weight of finality.

Viktor's expression darkened. "Good. Then we can discuss payment."

Xavier leaned back, his posture radiating confidence. "I believe we have an understanding."