Xavier leaned back on the couch and stared at the quest menu as the faint buzz of the cleanup drones echoing through the apartment as they scraped what was left of Mira's parents off the floor. He took out his phone and flipped through his contacts until his eyes landed on Eleanor Von Stein. A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

Reva. Her name was burned into his memory. He wasn't sure if he could live without seeing Reva. He missed her quite a few times in a day, and all the time at night.

He opened her chat. The last message was short — just another string of insults. The kind of venom only she could lace into words. She, as a vampire, still couldn't believe that a normal human dominated her and made her submit to him.

Xavier chuckled under his breath and hit the call button anyway.

The line rang. Once. Twice. Five times. No answer. He called again. On the seventh ring, the call clicked through, and her voice came on, sharp and cold, like she'd been woken up just to be pissed.

"What do you want?" she snapped.

Xavier grinned. "It's time for our weekly dose. You know, that ritual you always act like you hate but never skip."

Reva exhaled heavily, the irritation bleeding through. "Not in the mood," she muttered.

"Doesn't matter what your mood is," he said, voice casual but firm. "You know the deal — when one calls, the other shows. No exceptions."

There was a silence for a few seconds, as though she hadn't expected Xavier to respond like that.. The line went dead quiet, except for the faint static. Then, after a few seconds, she spoke again — her tone lower this time, with something gibberish behind it.

"I'll send you the address. Come there."

The call ended.

Xavier stared at the screen for a second, then tucked the phone into his jacket. "Always so dramatic," he muttered.

Behind him, the cleanup crew finished their job, sealing biohazard crates and wiping blood off the polished floor. Ryn was wandering through the apartment like a kid in a showroom, whistling low as he checked out the new space. Xavier stood up, rolled his shoulders, and watched as the drones faded out through the door.

He cracked his neck, glanced once more at the empty room, and thought, 'Guess it's time to see what the 'fate' has it in for me.'

Ryn stood near the entrance, hands stuffed in his pockets, seemingly having a hard time believing that everything was happening for real.

Xavier stepped out of the apartment, leaving Ryn behind with a sharp nod. "You can stay here if you want, but from now on? Don't expect me to take responsibility for a damn thing. We're even, we don't know each other, and that's how it stays."

Xavier then left through the elevator, and Ryn followed him like a servant.

The elevator doors slid open with that soft metallic hiss, and Xavier stepped out first. Ryn followed close behind, quiet, still looking a little shaken after everything that went down upstairs.

Ryn opened his mouth, but Xavier cut him with a shrug and dismissed him. Without another word, he strode toward his bike. The city lights of Nexus Tower reflected off the polished asphalt as he swung his leg over the seat, started the engine, and felt the familiar growl under him.

He pulled out his phone, tapped the message Reva had sent, and the screen lit up with the address. The coordinates blinked back at him, marking a location on the outskirts of the city — a place rough, strange, off the usual grid. The streets there were notorious, half-forgotten, full of shadows and corners where trouble loved to hide.

Xavier didn't hesitate. He twisted the throttle, tires spitting gravel, and the bike shot forward.

The outskirts approached fast, twisted streets opening up like a labyrinth. But Xavier didn't care about the smell of decay, the flickering lights, or the uneven pavement. He was already moving past all that, focused only on the address glowing in his pocket.

Xavier eased the throttle, slowing the bike as the outskirts gave way to the abandoned housing society. Buildings stood like skeletons, blackened wood and rusted metal clawing at the sky. Charred remnants of walls leaned at odd angles, windows gaping like hollow eyes. The smell of smoke lingered in the air, mixed with the rot of things long forgotten.

He brought the bike to a stop on the cracked asphalt, boots crunching over glass and debris as he leaned forward. His glasses flickered on, scanning the wreckage for any signs of movement, heat signatures, anything alive. Shadows shifted with the wind through broken walls and collapsed ceilings, and for a moment, the place seemed empty, silent except for the soft hiss of the wind and the distant creak of metal.

Xavier's gaze cut through the ruins. Every alley, every doorway, every rooftop — he mapped it all in seconds. He could feel tension coiling in the air, a warning that this place had teeth. Somewhere in this ruin, Reva waited, and Xavier could sense it.

The further he stepped, the more the burnt-out society seemed to close in around him. Rusted gates groaned under their own weight, walls leaned like they were about to fall, and scattered rubble crunched underfoot. His instincts screamed that he wasn't alone, but he moved with the patience of a predator. Every shadow, every shift in the air, was cataloged, processed, waiting for the first real sign.

And then, from the top of a half-collapsed stairwell, a figure appeared. Calm, almost casual, standing with her arms crossed.

Obviously, it was Reva.

Her expression was sharp, challenging, and that smirk — the one that could piss him off and make him grin at the same time — was plastered across her face.

Xavier stopped a few meters away, letting the distance stretch the tension like a wire about to snap. "You set a fancy trap," he said, voice even, low, almost amused. "Could've just called me, but no — you had to make me play detective in your little ruin."

Reva tilted her head, eyes glinting, shadows flickering across her features. "Detective, huh? You've got the wrong case, Xavier. I didn't trap you. I wanted to see if you'd actually come."

Xavier's hands itched at the throttle, at the jacket, at the air itself. He didn't move closer, not yet. Every instinct told him to wait, to let her make the first move, and watch. This was more than a meeting — this was a test, a game with no rules.

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