Chaos' Heir

Khan made more attempts to contact Monica while the autopilot brought the ship out of the secret area. Yet, she seemed to have disappeared and become unreachable.

The Nognes family's custody could explain the lack of communication, but Khan couldn't find reassurance in hypotheses. Only seeing Monica would quell his worry, but it seemed he would have to complete the trip first.

The autopilot had fixed speed, and Khan dealt with that annoying wait by going through his many notifications. He had gained a general idea of the past months, but a review was in order. Also, the news of his status had hit the network, giving birth to countless articles.

The articles kept Khan busy until the ship finally allowed him to take control of the steering wheel. Needless to say, he stepped on the pedal, pushing the vehicle to its limits to shorten the trip. His body took a hit, but the shields soon compensated for the sudden acceleration.

Eventually, Khan reached the point when he could let go of the controls and let the ship handle the trip by itself. The course and speed were set, so he could resume studying the network. However, another problem popped up when he glanced at the device.

The transparent screen partially reflected Khan's face. He saw unwavering cold eyes surrounded by war paints. His long hair was also messy, and his attire wasn't exactly good either.

Khan didn't mind his appearance, and Monica wouldn't either. Yet, Khan could barely recognize himself and didn't want Monica to go through a shocking reunion. Ideally, he would avoid worsening her unknown mental state.

The problem gave Khan the chance to test the living quarters. They weren't as confined as those in Baoway's ship, but the limitations of space vehicles still applied. Of course, Khan barely cared and proceeded to scrub out all the filth accumulated while he was stranded.

The hot water felt strange, and the same went for the soft, casual clothes stashed on the ship. That level of comfort was far different from what Khan had grown used to on Baoway, and inspecting himself on one of the mirrors explained that odd emotion.

After the shower, Khan had regained his usual appearance. His hair was long, but nothing else had changed. On the surface, he was identical to when he had left.

Yet, Khan knew much had changed. He could see it in the reflection of his eyes and the colors his presence added to the symphony. The process had started on Cegnore, and Baoway had finalized it.

The greatest change probably came in the form of a lack of hesitation. In the past, Khan had worried his loved ones wouldn't be able to accept him anymore after significant transformations. Yet, that feeling didn't appear now. That was what he was, and he wouldn't compromise it.

Luckily for Khan, the targeted space station was relatively nearby. When flying at full speed, the ship only needed half a day to reach it, and the structure soon became visible on the scanners.

Khan saw another small space station, this time with a cubical structure. No pillars pierced it, but a ring still spun around the central building.

The ship had the clearance codes, so Khan didn't need to send requests to gain access to the space station. The autopilot activated, handling the landing into the partially hidden hangar. The area seemed quite crowded, but Khan's vehicle easily found an empty spot.

Still, exiting the ship wasn't as smooth. A crowd gathered around the metal ramp as soon as the ship's doors opened, and shouts flew when the audience spotted Khan's figure. He didn't even take a step into the hangar, but problems had already arrived.

A line of soldiers prevented the audience from barging into the ship, but that didn't limit the general chaos. Khan saw floating cameras, scanners, and other recording devices all around the hangar while cries and questions reached his ears. The word "Prince" often resounded, explaining the nature of the mess.

The news of Khan's status was public, and it seemed the Nognes family had also leaked one of his possible destinations. That information had probably reached the reporters while Khan was still busy claiming his gifts. They wouldn't have arrived at the space station before him otherwise.

Pinpointing the specific party involved was impossible without further investigation, but Khan didn't care. For all he knew, that was standard protocol for bastards promoted to Princes. His faction might have spread the information to abide by unwritten political rules, but his priorities didn't change at that scene.

"My fiancée," Khan announced, eyeing the only soldier inside the blockade.

"My Prince," The soldier exclaimed, lowering his head in respect. "Maybe addressing the reporters first is a wiser choice."

Khan closed his eyes for a few seconds, and reopening them unleashed a new kind of chaos. The recording devices began to explode, shocking the massive crowd and the soldiers. Wires and debris flew everywhere, slowly bringing silence to the hangar.

The soldier had to muster the entirety of his self-control to prevent his mouth from hanging in shock, but looking at the metal ramp didn't improve his condition. Khan was staring at him, and his silence spoke louder than countless words.

"Miss Solodrey is on the floor above ours," The soldier revealed. "We'll empty the elevator in a few minutes, My Prince."

Space stations usually had standard layouts. Khan could instantly spot the elevator clogged by reporters still trying to make their way into the hangar. The lift would be unusable for a while, but another path existed.

The upper floor had fewer reporters, but a small crowd still occupied its most spacious area. The place's purpose was also different, having multiple quarters for high-tier guests and similar individuals, so large gatherings weren't allowed.

Nevertheless, that supposedly more peaceful and restrained place witnessed something incredible that day. The floor began to shake as the metal bent upward in one area. That tough material eventually shattered, creating a small channel near the corner of the hall.

The reporters were so shocked that they failed to lift their recording devices, but the figure that climbed through the hole made them recall their duty. The cameras rose when Khan stepped on the upper floor, only to explode in the following second.

Khan studied the area, but the symphony had no answers. He couldn't sense Monica anywhere, and his cold eyes soon fell on the stunned reporters. They had been informed about his arrival, so chances were they knew where Monica's room was.

The reporters didn't know how to react to Khan's silent look. They experienced pure terror, but the absence of questions made them helpless. They wanted the glare to end but were powerless about it.

Luckily for the reporters, a savior appeared. The commotion had spread throughout the floor, warning every guest in the rooms that something had happened. Many doors opened, and one made Khan forget about everything else.

A thin figure hurriedly stepped into the hall. Khan saw untidy clothes, deep eyebags, reddish eyes, and messy curls. That wasn't a look he was used to, but his senses instantly recognized her.

"Khan!" Monica shouted when she noticed Khan, wasting no second to rush toward him.

Khan managed to take one step forward before Monica slammed on his chest. She buried her face in his pullover, grabbing it with as much strength as her fingers could release. She almost poked holes in the fabric, but Khan's world stopped when he heard the first sob.

All the overbearing power and strength showcased in the previous interactions disappeared. Khan's arms carried nothing but kindness and care as they closed around the sobbing figure on his chest. Months had passed since he last touched Monica, but his fingers recalled everything and could notice the changes.

Monica had gotten thin, too thin. Her body felt beyond weak, worrying Khan about the strength in his hug. She seemed she could crumble at the slightest pressure, conveying how much the separation had weighed on her.

"I thought-," Monica sobbed through the pullover. "I couldn't-. I didn't know-."

Monica couldn't finish her own sentences since sobs always interrupted them. Her mind was also a mess, dispersing all the anxiety and worry accumulated in the past months. She could finally let herself go, but the process tired her beyond reason.

Khan felt the need to do something. The reporters and other guests were staring at the couple, but he didn't care. Only Monica existed in his world, and that place wouldn't work for her.

Khan secured a hand on Monica's waist before lifting her, princess-carrying her back to her room. He didn't dare to unleash his speed nor move her away from his chest, so everyone watched as they walked inside the open habitation.

Monica didn't recover even after the door closed. She kept crying, desperately clinging to Khan's pullover. Her mana reeked of fear, which Khan could read. Monica was afraid he would disappear again if she let him go even for a second.

Khan didn't complain or try doing anything special. He carried Monica to the room's simple bed before sitting on its edge. He lay Monica between his legs while she clung to him, and his hands went to caress her hair.

The sobs grew rarer under Khan's caresses, and Monica slowly calmed down, eventually falling asleep. She had been unable to rest properly for months, so the arrival of that awaited loving touch allowed her to give in to her exhaustion.

Khan didn't stop caressing Monica even after she fell asleep. It hurt him to see her in that state, and anger soon devoured that pain. He had planned how to handle his enemies, but seeing Monica's suffering changed his plans. A few heads couldn't be enough for him anymore.