Infinite Regeneration In The Apocalypse

Chapter 175: Saying Goodbye To Gloria (18+)

"You’re so tight," he grunted, picking up speed.

She moaned and screamed into the pillow, the pleasure overwhelming her senses. It was raw and animalistic.

At some point during their activities, they heard loud, angry banging on the wall from the neighboring apartment. A man’s muffled voice shouted through the thin barrier:

"Keep it down over there! Some of us are trying to sleep! Have some consideration!"

Gloria froze mid-motion, her eyes going wide with embarrassed shock. Then she looked at Vogue, and they both burst into helpless laughter—the kind of pure, genuine mirth that comes from release of tension and the absurdity of the situation.

"We’re being too loud," Gloria giggled, trying unsuccessfully to muffle her laughter against Vogue’s shoulder.

"Let them complain," Vogue responded, grinning wickedly. "This is my apartment, and if I want to—"

The bed frame rattled against the wall, threatening to break. Levi felt another orgasm building, stronger than the last. He pushed deep, burying himself as far as he could go. He came in her asshole, a hot flood that triggered her own climax. She screamed as she came with him, her body convulsing around him, the pleasure so intense she saw stars.

They collapsed onto the bed, a tangled mess of limbs and sweat. Levi pulled out slowly, and she whimpered at the loss. He pulled her into his chest, wrapping his arms around her.

"That was... intense," Gloria murmured against his skin, tracing idle circles on his chest.

"It was," Levi agreed, kissing the top of her head.

"We should sleep," Levi said softly. "I have to leave in a few hours."

"I know," Gloria whispered. "I’ll come visit you at the University."

"I’d like that."

Gloria curled against Vogue’s side, her head resting on his chest, her breathing gradually slowing to a peaceful rhythm.

⸻

When Vogue’s alarm went off hours later—far too early, while it was still dark outside—he moved carefully to avoid waking Gloria as he extracted himself from the bed.

But she stirred anyway, her eyes opening slowly as she watched him dress in the dim pre-dawn light.

"I have to go now," Vogue said quietly, checking his appearance one final time in the cracked mirror.

Gloria sat up, pulling the blanket around herself against the morning chill. "Already?"

"The buses leave at 6 AM sharp. No exceptions. I need to be there early."

She climbed out of bed despite the cold, not bothering to dress, and walked over to embrace him one more time. When she spoke, her voice trembled slightly:

"I’m going to miss you. So much. These past weeks with you have been the happiest of my life, and now you’re leaving again, and I know it’s necessary but it still hurts—"

"Hey," Vogue interrupted gently, tilting her chin up so she had to meet his eyes. "I’m going to miss you too. Every single day. But this isn’t goodbye forever. It’s just... see you soon."

Gloria nodded, tears threatening to spill over. "See you soon," she repeated, as though testing the words.

"I promise I’ll contact you as soon as I’m able," Vogue continued. "The moment I have any kind of communication access that works between the Inner City and outer districts, you’ll be the first person I message."

"You better," Gloria said with a watery laugh.

She pulled him down for one final, lingering kiss—the kind meant to be remembered and cherished during long absence. When they finally separated, both their eyes were bright with unshed tears.

"I’ll come to the Inner City soon," Gloria promised. "After I finish sorting out my resignation from the school and arranging proper transport. It shouldn’t be difficult—with my new S-Rank healing talent, opportunities will come."

"I know they will," Vogue agreed. "You’re going to be incredibly successful. They’ll be lucky to have you."

He shouldered his packed bag and moved toward the door, pausing at the threshold to look back one more time. Gloria stood there in the dim morning light, beautiful and vulnerable and brave, wrapped only in his blanket, her eyes full of love and trust.

"I’ll see you soon," Vogue said again.

"Soon," Gloria echoed. "Be safe. And... good luck on your exam."

Vogue nodded, committing this image of her to memory, then turned and left before his resolve could weaken.

The door closed behind him with a soft click, and he began the journey toward his new future.

⸻

The taxi ride to Clairemont Street took approximately forty minutes through the still-dark city. Vogue spent the journey staring out the window, watching the outer district slums gradually give way to slightly nicer neighborhoods, then to the commercial zones near the transportation hubs.

When they finally arrived at the designated location, Vogue paid the driver and stepped out onto the street.

The scene before him was simultaneously impressive and overwhelming.

Approximately forty to fifty heavily armored buses were lined up in organized rows, each one gleaming with reinforced metal plating and defensive enchantments visible as faint glowing patterns along their surfaces. These weren’t normal public transit vehicles—they were military-grade transports designed to safely carry passengers through the dangerous zone between the outer districts and the Inner City.

And surrounding these buses were thousands of people—literally thousands of young men and women, all roughly Vogue’s age, all dressed in their best clothes, all radiating nervous excitement and determination.

These are all candidates for War-Star University, Vogue realized with something like awe. All of these people—probably ten thousand or more—passed initial screenings and qualified to take the entrance examination.

And only a fraction of us will actually be accepted.

The crowd was a chaotic mix of conversations, laughter, nervous energy, and last-minute preparations. Some candidates traveled in groups, clearly knowing each other from shared academies or cultivation circles. Others stood alone like Vogue, isolated and uncertain.

As Vogue moved through the crowd toward the registration checkpoint, he began recognizing faces. Many of these people had attended the same preparatory academy he had—Yellow Maple Valley Cultivation School. He saw former classmates, study partners, people he’d exchanged maybe five words with over years of shared education.

And they recognized him too.

Whispers began spreading through the nearby crowd as people noticed his presence:

"That’s him—that’s Vogue Morningster!"

"The dual-talent student!"

"I heard he donated an Evolution Fruit to our academy worth hundreds of millions!"

"He’s the one who survived that trial everyone was talking about..."

Some people stared with open admiration or envy. Others looked calculating, as though trying to determine how they might benefit from association with him. A few appeared hostile, perhaps resenting his sudden fame and success.

Vogue kept his expression neutral and continued moving forward, not engaging with the whispers and stares. He had learned during his trial that attention—especially the wrong kind of attention—could be more dangerous than beneficial.

Just get registered, board the bus, and keep your head down, he told himself. No need to stand out more than necessary.

The registration process was surprisingly efficient despite the massive crowd. Officials wearing War-Star University insignia checked identification documents, verified names against master lists, assigned bus numbers, and directed people to their appropriate vehicles with practiced efficiency.

When Vogue reached the front of his line, the registration official—a middle-aged woman with tired eyes and a professional demeanor—barely glanced at him before scanning his papers.

"Vogue Morningster. Dual awakener. Ultimate Evolution classification." She made check marks on her clipboard. "You’re assigned to Bus 7. Proceed directly there. No stopping, no trading seats with other candidates. Your seat assignment is final."

"Understood," Vogue replied.

The woman stamped his documents and waved him through without further ceremony.

⸻

Vogue made his way through the crowd toward Bus 7, which was positioned near the middle of the formation. The armored vehicle loomed impressively before him—easily four times the size of a normal bus, with reinforced walls that could probably withstand artillery fire.

Small windows lined the sides, though they were made of some kind of treated material that allowed passengers to see out but prevented anyone from seeing in. The overall impression was of a mobile fortress rather than simple transportation.

As Vogue approached Bus 7, he paused and turned to look back one final time at the outer districts visible in the distance.

Somewhere behind those buildings and walls was his shabby apartment. His small life. The struggles and poverty that had defined his existence for seventeen years.

And Gloria, still there, waiting for him to succeed so they could be together in a better world.

I’m leaving all of that behind now, Vogue thought with finality. Moving forward into something new. Something better.

Or at least, something different.

He turned back toward the bus, squared his shoulders, and climbed aboard without hesitation.

The interior was surprisingly comfortable—cushioned seats, and enough space that passengers wouldn’t be cramped during what was apparently going to be a several-hour journey to the Inner City.

Vogue found his assigned seat near the middle of the bus and settled in, placing his bag in the overhead compartment. Other candidates were still boarding, finding their own seats, chattering nervously among themselves.

Through the treated windows, Vogue watched more buses filling with passengers. The organized chaos of thousands of young Steller knights preparing for the most important examination of their lives.

This is it, he thought. The next phase begins now.

The bus engine rumbled to life beneath him, a deep powerful sound that vibrated through the entire vehicle. Around him, conversations died down as everyone realized they were about to depart.