With a casual flick of his bony hand, the old monk pulled a shimmering cube out of his storage ring and tossed it lightly onto the open plaza beside Creed's apartment.
In the blink of an eye, the cube unraveled like it had been waiting for centuries to stretch its legs.
Glowing blue lines crisscrossed the air as a sleek, futuristic transport module assembled itself from thin air—quietly and efficiently—until a silver-black carrier shaped like a hawk with folded wings rested before them, about the size of a small house.
A humming aura of energy and technology pulsed off it like a low bass you felt in your bones.
The vehicle had no wheels, no visible propulsion system, and floated two inches off the ground as if gravity itself had signed a contract not to bother it.
The air around it shimmered like it didn't want to get too close either. "Get in," the monk said casually, as if this wasn't the coolest thing Creed had ever seen.
