My Wives Are A Divine Hive Mind-Chapter 183: Athera, The World Of Heroes
"Well, this is awkward."
The fabric carried the faint chemical bite of fresh laundering, a scent that mingled uneasily with the underlying tang of antiseptics permeating the air.
Restraints no longer bound her limbs, but a residual stiffness lingered in her joints, as if the healing process had knit flesh too hastily, leaving echoes of the trauma woven into her muscles.
Beside her, Blanchette mirrored the attire, the gown draping her narrow frame with an almost comical propriety, its sleeves pooling at her elbows.
She sat with legs crossed at the ankles, hands folded neatly in her lap, that perpetual smile curving her lips as if the circumstances amused some private jest.
The room they occupied now felt less like a prison cell and more like a consultation chamber—spartan walls of polished metal inset with holographic displays that flickered idly with status readouts, a low table separating them from the far side where a single figure waited.
The woman in the high-tech suit occupied a reinforced chair, her posture relaxed yet alert, the iridescent weave of her bodysuit catching the overhead lights in subtle shifts of color—like oil on water under pressure.
Augmented plating at her shoulders and thighs gleamed with faint engravings, conduits tracing paths that pulsed in sync with her subtle breaths.
Her dark hair framed a face marked by sharp intelligence, eyes the color of polished hematite holding steady regard without flinching.
"I am Nickal Oz," the woman began, her voice carrying the cadence of one who addressed assemblies often, yet laced with a casualness that softened the edges. "Head Researcher of the Technological Advancement Department—T.A.D. for short—within the Heroes of the World. I sincerely apologize for containing you both against your will. The circumstances of your existence that we know of had demanded swift action, but that does not excuse the breach of rights."
Noirette shifted on the padded bench, the gown's fabric rustling against the upholstery, her bare feet curling against the cool grating of the floor.
The apology landed genuine, without the hollow ring of protocol, but suspicion coiled in her chest regardless.
Blanchette remained silent, her crimson eyes half-lidded in that enigmatic poise, as if content to let the moment unfold without her input.
Noirette inclined her head slightly, assuming the T.A.D. still operated in the dark regarding their identities—a safe wager, given the masked man's precipitous judgment.
"I am Noirette," she said evenly, gesturing to her companion. "This is Blanchette. Seeing that none of you have addressed us, I can assume that you didn't even know that we have a name."
Nickal's lips quirked into a playful tilt, her hematite eyes glinting with a spark of wry humor that undercut the room's tension.
She leaned forward, elbows resting on the table's edge. "Of course, we did not know who you were because not a single piece of information about either of you exists in this world~
"That is precisely why you were mistaken for demons and detained in this facility. But it turns out—and many here still refuse to believe it—that you are human through and through.
"You do not carry even a whiff of Demonic Essence to warrant categorization as one."
The term hung in the air, unfamiliar yet laden with implication, stirring Noirette's curiosity like a hook in still water.
Blanchette's smile deepened fractionally, her fingers drumming once against her knee—a subtle tell of intrigue beneath the calm facade.
Noirette then met Nickal's gaze directly, "What is Demonic Essence that you speak of? And what exactly is a demon in your understanding?"
Nickal straightened, her expression shifting to one of earnest intent, the playful edge yielding to the gravity of explanation.
She rose smoothly, gesturing toward the chamber's side panel—a seamless door that irised open with a soft pneumatic sigh, revealing a corridor bathed in the same blue-tinged light. "I promise to explain everything in exchange for your cooperation. In return, I ask for information from you.
"Considering that both of you seem oblivious to many common aspects of our world, the Heroes of the World will vow to accommodate you and even assist in your process of adapting to Athera. How is that for a deal?"
Noirette glanced sidelong at Blanchette, whose posture remained impeccably composed, that smug coziness radiating from her like heat from a banked fire—as if she had anticipated this turn, or perhaps orchestrated it in some shadowed calculus of her own.
The crimson eyes met hers briefly, holding a glint of quiet assurance, before Noirette turned back to Nickal.
"I agree to the deal," Noirette said, rising to her feet, the gown settling around her with a faint rustle. "Under more circumstances."
Nickal's hematite eyes brightened with relief, though a flicker of caution lingered in their depths. "I will listen to it, as long as the request is not too outrageous and it can be appealed to my higher-ups."
Noirette held her gaze steady, voice firm without aggression.
"We request protection from any harm done by the Heroes of the World. Additionally, we do not want to be caught in the web of politics or included in any schemes or political maneuvers after we share our part of the story."
The chamber fell silent for a beat, the holographic displays' soft beeps the only interruption.
Nickal considered the clause, her fingers tapping once against the table's edge—a rhythmic assessment—before she nodded decisively.
"I agree with that clause." A wry chuckle escaped her then, the sound lightening the air like a released breath. "What kind of background do you two have to demand such a thing? Are you coming from a different dimension or something?"
Noirette and Blanchette exchanged a glance, and in unison, their lips curved into wide, devious smiles—mirrored expressions that held a shared edge of mischief, as if the question had unlocked some private vault of amusement.
"Wait…" Nickal's chuckle turned wry, her eyes narrowing in dawning realization. "I did not expect to be right…"
"This makes the whole thing easier," Blanchette smirked.
Noirette's smile held as she leaned forward slightly, the gown's sleeve brushing the table. "To make things fast and digestiable, Blanchette and I came from a world called Fathomi. We escaped in desperation from a crisis in our hometown and opened a portal to somewhere else…
"It connected us here, and the rest is as you found it."
The words flowed as Noirette bullshited her way out of this as she expanded on her initial story, a tapestry of half-truths woven just tight enough to convince without unraveling.
Noirette's voice was also steady, omitting the intrinsic nature of Fathomi and many more things that might interest the head researcher too much, framing Fathomi as a beleaguered realm under siege by its own unraveling laws.
Blanchette nodded along, her smug coziness unbroken, adding silent credence to the tale.
Nickal absorbed it without interruption, her hematite eyes widening incrementally, the chamber's hum fading into background as the weight of otherworlders settled like dust after a storm.
She had not anticipated this development at all, the revelation crashing over her like an uncharted current.
"There was a case in the past about a world traveler landing here," Nickal said, voice threading with awe, "but for me to meet them in person..."
Noirette caught the implication in an instant—the so-called world traveler likely referred to Marqe, a figure who bridged realms with casual familiarity.
But she let it pass without probe, the knowledge a quiet card to hold close amid the gamble of trust.
"This is the part where I hold to our deal and explain everything about this world," Nickal continued, rising once more and gesturing toward the open corridor. "Considering that both of you are outsiders, I will make it thorough. Stand up, and we can tour this facility while I speak, since it is less intoxicating that way."
Noirette just had a feeling that Nickal was too nervous otherwise, with how fidgety she was throughout the whole conversation.
Thus, Noirette and Blanchette complied.
The facility unfolded around them in a seamless blend of function and foresight—walls of seamless alloy curving into branching halls, illuminated by recessed strips that adjusted brightness to footfalls, as air recyclers contributed with filtered purity of this place.
Lab-coated figures nodded deferentially as Nickal passed, their holographic pads flickering with ongoing analyses, but none intruded on the procession.
And as they had a great tour in this facility of the T.A.D., Noirette managed to summarize everything that Nickal informed through the journey.
They were on Earth—or a version of it that diverged from Noirette's fragmented recollections, a world where humanity's ingenuity had forged paths untrodden from the one she knew.
A single ruling nation dominated this sphere, known as Athera, encompassing eighty percent of the habitable landmass.
Athera comprised 128 divisions of land, each a sovereign district with its own share of customs, governance, and edicts, ruled by a District Lord elected through respective methods.
Yet all bowed to unity under the Heroes of the World, the paramount governing body that stood as humanity's bulwark against the encroaching unknown. 𝘧𝘳𝘦ℯ𝓌𝘦𝒷𝘯𝑜𝑣𝘦𝓁.𝒸𝘰𝓂
And at the Heroes' core stood the superhuman vanguard—individuals who had awakened an innate power, a force that bent reality's rules in personal decree, channeling it through themselves as living conduits.
And this power was none other than Ego.
