Chapter 40: Chapter 40

Fricikon’s words were cut off as the air around them exploded with sound, as if something had just blown.

Aziel staggered slightly at the sudden roar, his eyes scanning the area with calm precision, noticing every detail despite the chaos.

"What was that... explosion?" he muttered under his breath, his gaze locking on Frickon.

"Well... it looks like the Forbidden Sole has finally made a breakthrough," Frickon said, a smile tugging at his face, a mix of awe and mischief.

"I mean, I wasn’t expecting it to happen this suddenly. Incredible, isn’t it?"

Aziel’s eyes narrowed slightly, studying the plume of smoke rising in the distance. "Forbidden Soul, whatever it is, feels fantastic."

In the distance, smoke spiraled into the sky, and Plasmas rushed toward the site. Some moved with urgency to assist, their movements precise and measured, while others drifted closer, curious, drawn by the spectacle as though it were a display meant to be witnessed.

"Looks like some are just here for the view," Frickon muttered, chuckling under his breath. "Typical, can’t resist a little drama."

Aziel said nothing, though he had barely resisted commenting on how that bullhead’s attempt at appearing clever fell short, his gaze fixed on the smoke.

"Say, wanna have a look?" Aziel commented nonchalantly, casting Frickon a sidelong glance.

"Normal Plasmas aren’t allowed to enter the research facility... wait, but we’re far from normal. We have the privilege!" Frickon spoke rapidly, practically bouncing as he rushed toward the site, leaving Aziel slightly behind.

Aziel let out a dry chuckle. "Just don’t start a race with the smoke. I’d hate to have to explain your clumsiness to the others."

Frickon shot him a playful glare but didn’t slow down, weaving through the gathering crowd of Plasmas who had started assembling around the distant plume.

Some hovered, shifting forms curiously, while others moved in organized lines, scanning or gesturing toward the facility as if trying to read its secrets from afar. ɴᴇᴡ ɴᴏᴠᴇʟ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs ᴀʀᴇ ᴘᴜʙʟɪsʜᴇᴅ ᴏɴ N0velFire.ɴet

As they drew closer, the smoke began to dissipate, revealing the structure in sharp clarity. It was a fortress of enormous quartz-like blocks, stacked and fused with meticulous precision.

Aziel’s mind stirred with awe at such ferocity, which would have been impossible back in the human realm.

The surfaces shimmered faintly, catching the light and scattering soft hues across the surrounding mist.

Rounded domes emerged from cubic foundations, connected by crystalline walkways that twisted and arched like frozen streams of energy. Small drones zipped between the towers, examining the architecture or ferrying unknown materials.

Around the edges of the facility, clusters of Plasmas had gathered, whispering among themselves, pointing toward the center as if expecting something monumental to unfold.

Aziel and Frickon stepped fully into the building. The quartz-like walls shimmered faintly, reflecting their movements back in fractured patterns.

The hallway stretched ahead, long and quiet, with doors lining either side. Most of the rooms they passed were empty, dark, silent, save for the faintest traces of energy lingering in the corners, and Some rooms had discarded equipment, gadgets Aziel swore he had seen or used back in his world. Despite that, no one was actually present.

Aziel’s steps echoed loudly against the walls. "Seems deserted," he whispered, eyes darting at each empty doorway. "Where’s everyone? I thought there would at least be a few, you know, working?"

"Like I said, most Plasmas aren’t allowed to enter here, or maybe it’s just that no one actually wants to come here," Frickon replied nervously, glancing around.

They moved deeper, accompanied by a thin wisp of smoke curling from a door at the end of the corridor. It twisted upward like a living thing, illuminating the empty hallway with a faint glow.

Frickon stopped, wide-eyed. "That, that’s it, sir. That is the source of the explosion."

They approached the door, the smoke growing thicker and more distinct.

The door slid open just before Frickon could hit it, revealing the room inside, though nothing could be seen due to the thick, swirling smoke.

"Cough, cough, cough, cou~ie," a voice echoed from deep within the haze, as if someone was struggling to speak.

"Aziel, I’m going to see how to clear this smoke. You go help the Forbidden Soul. He’s the one causing those strange sounds just now," Frickon said, eyes darting nervously around the room.

Aziel subtly nodded in response and plunged through the smoke toward the source of the voice. The sound grew louder with every passing step, low, distorted, and strangely uneven, as if shifting between states like the Plasmas themselves.

Behind him, Frickon remained still. His expression tightened, concentration settling over his usually careless face.

He extended one of his hands forward.

From his palm, streams of aurora-colored energy began to coalesce, twisting, spiraling in intricate motion until they birthed a miniature tornado that hovered just above his hand.

Though small, the vortex swirled with violent force, pulling the surrounding smoke toward its center. The once-blinding haze began to gather and compress, dragged into the spinning core until the room started to clear.

Within seconds, the suffocating veil of smoke was sucked in as the air vibrated faintly, transparent once again.

Frickon then closed his fist, as if crushing the tornado. The swirling mass collapsed instantly, vanishing with a faint hiss.

When he opened his palm again, there was nothing left, not even a wisp of smoke. It was as though the vortex had been absorbed entirely into his body.

"Wait, he did it already? This fast?!" Aziel exclaimed, his voice slicing through the humming air as his vision sharpened. He took another step forward, the ground beneath him flickering faintly with residual energy.

Just a few meters ahead, through the thinning mist, a figure stood with eerie calm, draped in a long white coat that flowed down to their knees, its fabric gleaming faintly under the fractured light.

The figure’s back was turned, posture composed, unfazed by the destruction surrounding them. With a slow, deliberate motion, they raised something to their lips, a slender, glimmering stick that burned with a faint blue ember at its tip.

Aziel’s eyes narrowed in curiosity. ’A Plasma smoking? That’s a first.’

The ember flared briefly, casting sharp light across the white coat as the figure exhaled, not smoke, but a thin wisp of silver energy that shimmered and twisted in the air before fading away.

’Don’t tell me he’s the reason for all this...’