Honkai Impact: My Power Grows When Valkyries Fall For Me — Chapter 82

Chapter 82: Younger Than I Imagined

The clouds outside the window were a dazzling, brilliant white under the full force of the sun. High above the world, the transport plane flew onward, its engines producing a steady, monotonous hum that filled the cabin.

Lucian leaned against his seat, his gaze lost in the endless sea of white outside the window, quietly counting the passing clouds. This was a dedicated Schicksal transport, and within its vast, empty cabin, he was the only passenger.

He slipped his communicator from his pocket. The screen flared to life, displaying the time: 2:17 PM. Three hours had passed since takeoff.

He handled to his message history, his eyes landing on the last one he’d received. It was from Mei.

“Remember to let me know when you arrive safely.”

The message was sent at 8:00 AM. He stared at her words for a few seconds, a faint smile touching his lips before he typed out a reply. “Still on the way. The clouds are very beautiful.”

Mei’s response was almost instantaneous. “Let me see.”

Lucian lifted the communicator, aiming its camera at the small, reinforced porthole. In the viewfinder, layers of white clouds stretched to the horizon, their edges scorched into brilliant gold by the unfiltered sunlight.

Capture. Send.

The communicator chimed a moment later. Lucian glanced down at the screen and saw Mei’s reply.

It was a photo.

A fair, slender hand was pictured, fingers slightly spread, framing the scenery outside a window. Through the gaps, he could make out the iconic architectural silhouettes of St. Freya Academy and the same clouds he was currently flying through, now viewed from the ground.

A caption appeared below the image: “I’m looking at the clouds too.”

However, another message quickly followed.

“…And I was just caught by Teacher Himeko.”

———

Schicksal’s transport was remarkably fast. By the time evening began to settle over the world, the plane had already arrived at its destination.

The hatch hissed open, and a cool breeze, carrying the distinct, salty tang of the sea, swept into the cabin and brushed against his face.

Lucian stepped out onto the ramp and immediately saw a figure standing alone on the tarmac.

Long, golden hair fluttered gently in the wind, and a pair of blue eyes shimmered with a faint, crystalline light in the warm glow of the sunset.

Durandal.

She was dressed in casual clothes rather than her iconic Valkyrie armor, a choice that made her appear softer, more approachable than the woman in her official profile photos. But even so, just by standing there, perfectly still, she radiated a presence that was impossible to ignore—a silent gravity that commanded attention.

Lucian walked down the ramp and came to a stop a few feet in front of her.

For a long moment, neither spoke. They simply looked at each other, each taking the other’s measure. Finally, it was Durandal who broke the silence.

“Lucian?”

Her voice was calm, even, with no discernible emotional inflection.

Lucian gave a slight nod. “It’s me.”

Durandal studied him, and for a fleeting instant, a complex light flashed in the depths of her blue eyes. It was a subtle shift, as if she were confirming something she already knew, or perhaps, recalling a distant memory.

“I finally get to meet you.”

Lucian’s brow twitched. “Finally?”

Durandal offered no explanation. The corners of her mouth simply curled into a faint, unreadable smile. “Let’s go. We’ll talk on the way.”

With that, she turned and began walking toward the edge of the tarmac, her pace measured and unhurried. Her long, golden hair swayed gently in the evening breeze like a silken banner.

Lucian watched her go for a second before stepping forward to follow.

A black sedan was parked at the edge of the tarmac. The rear door was already open, and a figure in a maid outfit, seated inside, waved at him.

“Mr. Lucian, welcome to the United Kingdom.”

It was Rita. Her smile was as impeccably polite as ever, but her burgundy eyes held a familiar, playful hint of amusement.

“Miss Rita,” Lucian greeted her with a nod. “It’s been a while. You look well.”

“As do you,” Rita replied, her gaze lingering on his face for a moment. A flicker of faint surprise crossed her features. “It seems life at St. Freya is quite nourishing.”

The corner of Lucian’s mouth twitched. Nourishing?

Was she referring to how well Mei had been feeding him lately, or was it a comment on how his expressions had become more open and varied than before? He subconsciously raised a hand to touch his cheek.

The simple, reflexive action only deepened the amusement dancing in Rita’s eyes.

“Please get in the car, Mr. Lucian,” she said smoothly. “The journey to the residence will take some time. You can rest for a bit.”

Lucian nodded, opened the car door, and settled into the back seat. The interior was spacious, and the plush leather seats emitted a faint, clean fragrance.

He had just gotten comfortable when the door on the other side opened, and Durandal slid in.

The space inside the car was more than generous, yet with Durandal’s arrival, Lucian inexplicably felt the cabin had become a bit crowded. It wasn’t a physical sensation; a full seat separated them, a distance neither too far nor too close. It was the sheer weight of her presence, a silent pressure that seemed to compress the very air around them.

The car door clicked shut, and the interior fell into a brief, heavy silence. The sedan pulled away from the tarmac smoothly, and the scenery outside began to blur into a gentle flow of motion—the empty airstrip, the distant hangars, the runway lights that were just beginning to flicker to life against the deepening twilight.

Lucian kept his gaze fixed on the world outside the window, content to let the silence linger.

After a while, Durandal spoke again. “Was the long flight tiring?”

“It was alright,” Lucian replied, turning his head to meet her gaze. In the dim light of the cabin, her blue eyes seemed impossibly deep, as if they held countless unspoken secrets.

“You…” Durandal began, then paused, seemingly weighing her words with great care. “You’re… younger than I imagined.”

Lucian was taken aback for a moment. Young?

Just as he was about to ask what she meant, Rita’s voice floated from the driver’s seat, light and melodious. “Lord Durandal, saying that will only cause Mr. Lucian to be troubled.”

Durandal blinked, a genuinely puzzled expression appearing on her face. “Troubled? Why?”

Her expression was so earnest, so completely serious, that it was clear she truly didn’t understand. Lucian looked into those blue eyes, now filled with sincere confusion, and found himself at a loss for words.

Rita’s soft laughter drifted from the front. “Lord Durandal, in certain contexts, the word ‘young’…” she explained patiently, “…might be interpreted as ‘inexperienced’or’immature.'”

Durandal processed this for a moment, her brow furrowing slightly as if committing a new, strange rule of social interaction to memory. “Is that so?”

She turned back to Lucian, a trace of apology in her expression. “Sorry. I didn’t mean it that way.”

Lucian shook his head, a slightly awkward smile on his face. “I know.”

And he did. He knew with absolute certainty that Schicksal’s Strongest Valkyrie held no ill intent. She was simply… straightforward. Incredibly, disarmingly straightforward, merely stating her observation as a fact.

Durandal regarded him for another moment, appearing to organize her thoughts. “In the descriptions I’ve heard of you,” she said slowly, “you’ve always been a very… complex person.” She paused. “So when you actually stand before me, I find you’re not quite what I imagined.”

Lucian’s curiosity was piqued. “What did you imagine me to be like?”

Durandal was silent for a few seconds before answering with unnerving frankness. “Older.”

Lucian: “…”

The corner of his mouth twitched again, this time with more force. “A bit… older?”

“Mhm.” Durandal nodded, her expression still overly serious. “Most of the things I’ve heard about you happened many years ago. So, in my imagination, you should have been a… more mature person.”

She paused again, her gaze sweeping over Lucian’s face as if re-evaluating him. “But you look younger than me.”

Lucian: “…”

He leaned back against the plush seat, looking into Durandal’s blue eyes, which were filled with nothing but pure, unadulterated seriousness. He suddenly felt an overwhelming urge to laugh. The truly ridiculous part was that, according to the age of the body he now inhabited, he really was younger than Durandal.

From the front, Rita’s soft, suppressed laughter could be heard, though she wisely chose not to say another word.