CHAPTER 39: The Fugitive Part 10

CHAPTER 39: The Fugitive Part 10

The bar was a lowlife cave of smoke and dim light, a place where shadows were sold by the glass and silences were worth more than words. In a corner, far from the tired murmur of the other patrons, Lucio was hunched over the time-polished mahogany bar. His usually impeccable white suit was unbuttoned at the collar, his tie loose. He held a short glass of whisky with two fingers, contemplating the amber liquid as if it held all the answers denied to him.

The air around him thickened before the presence materialized. There were no footsteps, just a change in pressure, a sudden cold that made the hairs on his neck stand up. A tall, spectral figure slid onto the adjacent stool. Lucio didn't need to turn; the reflection in the bar's back mirror showed him the aristocratic, pale profile, the silver hair tied back with fatal nonchalance.

"If you're here for another sermon about duty and honor, Alucard, save it," Lucio muttered, not taking his eyes off his whisky. "My mood is as black as your fashion sense."

Alucard smiled, a slight gesture that barely curved his thin lips. A trembling bartender served him a glass of wine so dark it seemed to absorb the light, carefully avoiding looking him in the eye.

"Relax, old friend," Alucard's voice was a silken whisper that cut through the bar's murmur. "I've only come to enjoy a good liquor and, perhaps, to hear your... unique evaluation of our mutual project. Fénix."

Lucio set his glass down with a sharp thud.
"Fénix?" he asked, slowly turning his head to meet Alucard's icy gaze. "Are you worried your former student isn't up to my standards? Or that my methods will ruin your work of art?"

Alucard shrugged with a supernatural elegance.
"Let's say curiosity is eating at me. It's not every day a man of your... caliber trains a lycan with such peculiar... challenges. You've seen him up close. Tell me, what do you see?"

Lucio sighed, a sound laden with the weight of countless battles and disappointments.
"He's as stubborn as a mule with a hangover," he spat, "slow to grasp nuance, talks too much, and his technique is a predictable mess." He paused, and something softened in his hard eyes. "But... he has something. Something raw. A spark of pure, stubborn will. He refuses to stay down, even when he knows the game is rigged against him."

Alucard took a sip of his wine, his red eyes fixed on Lucio.
"You call it a spark. I called it... unrefined potential. A diamond waiting for someone to strike it with enough force to reveal its edge. But continue. What else does your clinical eye detect?"

A crooked smile twisted Lucio's lips.
"Don't mistake it. He's still a clumsy pup. Impulsive, emotional, lets rage carry him away. But there's something in his gaze... an ancient, contained fury. If he can channel it, instead of letting it consume him, he'll become lethal. Not just strong; intelligently deadly."

Alucard laughed softly, a sound like the crunching of frost.
"Interesting. So, deep down, you think he's worth it. That he's not just another broken pawn on the board."

"Let's say if he survives what I have planned for him," Lucio replied, his voice grave, "he might become something worth betting on. But don't tell him I said that. I still find his choices repugnant. Hunting his own kind... it's a stain on the soul that doesn't wash out easily."

Alucard nodded, his expression thoughtful.
"It is. But history is full of contradictory heroes. They are the ones who usually leave the deepest scars on the world."

Lucio stared at him, and for an instant, the mask of the tough instructor cracked, revealing an infinite fatigue.
"I hope you're right, Alucard. Because if that boy fails... it won't be for lack of my trying."

Alucard raised his glass, the dark wine gleaming with a sinister glow.
"To Fénix Rogers, then. May that stubborn spark not be extinguished before it ignites the fire it is destined to be."

Lucio clinked his glass against Alucard's with a sound that rang like a sentence. They drank in silence, Fénix's future weighing in the air between them like a storm cloud.

Lucio set his empty glass on the bar with a final thud. He watched it for a moment, as if the crystal could show him a different path.

"You know?" he began, his voice lower, stripped of its usual bravado. "I didn't want to do it. Train him. Train anyone. Everyone... everyone I've trained... has died. Every damn one. Every soul I showed a path, that I thought I could polish... they were extinguished." He clenched his fist on the bar. "I can't stand to see them fade anymore. As if my touch were a curse. What's the point of going on when your legacy is an endless procession of graves?"

Alucard leaned back on his stool, his impassivity a brutal contrast to Lucio's raw anguish.
"Mortality is a fact, not a personal failing, Lucio," he said, his tone cold, almost clinical. "Everyone who wields a weapon faces that statistic. What is this... outburst of melodrama about?"

Lucio looked ahead, a bitter, twisted smile on his face.
"I couldn't bear another loss. But..." the smile turned into a rictus of greed and resignation, "the money Enid is offering is... obscene. And by obscene, I mean I could retire and buy an island. So, even though every fiber of my being screamed no, I said yes. The money, Alucard. Always the damn money. You know how it is."

Alucard nodded slowly, but there was no understanding in his eyes, only a distant evaluation.
"Curious. I only trained Fénix out of... pure whim. An idle curiosity. I don't usually stoop to tutelage. It's tedious. But something about that boy... disturbingly persistent, caught my attention." He took a sip. "I expected him to break after a couple of lessons. To join the silent chorus of your failures. But he didn't."

Lucio frowned, a spark of disbelief igniting in his eyes.
"What are you saying? That Fénix...?"