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chiyoso · 1 year ago

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𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒓𝒔𝒄𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒐𝒇 𝒅𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒉 (revising/proofreading)

series masterlist | part two

࣪ ˖✧ following content. headcannons · crossover · reader is herrscher of death · oc coded · sprinkle of trauma · fighting · nanook doesn't know what personal space is, nanook is referred to he/him in this fic · welt/blade ptsd moments.

࣪ ˖✧ author notes. 11/21/23 update: everything is planned out, and this will be a series. // 4/17/24 update: revamping. 1.7 out of 3 done. (god forbid tumblr fucking me up by restarting the app, and i didnt get to save. im)

࣪ ˖✧ hired actors. the astral express · the stellaron hunters · aeon nanook.

𝒘𝒆𝒍𝒕 𝒚𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒇𝒕. 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒍 𝒆𝒙𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒔

𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐓 𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐆 had his hand around his throat, feeeling it lump to the sight of you.

𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐓 𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐆 questioning your existence in this world internally, over and over, and it didn't help that your evident youth glistened under the lights of the express' lounge, reminding the old trailblazer of what being a herrscher was; a longevity of your lifespan, a title feared by a decaying world, along with reminding him of the sins he committed long before being welcomed to this world.

𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐓 𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐆 whose stomach churned at the sight of your breath hitching in your deep sleep, a sign of your consciousness returning while his astral companions and a fluffy conductor that held your hand, giving your body a positive reaction to the soft conductor's paws, all looked at you with utmost fascination.

𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐓 𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐆 who couldn't help but feel compelled to ingulge in his curiousities, finding your stigmata almost immediately in the process. an intricate design that its way paved against your flesh from your neck, down to your chest.

𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐓 𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐆 discussing with himeko and the conductor afterwards, having discovered your body, floating along the stars unconsciously that alerted the astral express, hence the automatic notion to save you.

𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐓 𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐆 rembering stigmata technology along with other various things back from his homeworld. it's technilogy originating from schicksal, from a tyrant, and it's something that will determine if you were either a friend, a foe, or neither, and welt yang desperately hoped you were the first option, holding onto the hope that you weren't a being against humanity.

prologue; the sovereign.

“everyone,”

welt took a step forward in instinct, hollow and guarded to your direction. “step back, now.” a warning to his stellar companions, feeling a dread that swelled inside him from taking in your familiar energy, honkai energy, radiating and reemerging from you, forcing a part of him that he buried long ago to be present in your presence.

“huh?” the pink haired girl took a moment, glancing back and forth to you and him. “what do you mean mr. yang? she's still asle—” the pink haired's curiousity was interrupted, followed by a small yelp, reaching out for your arm mid-way, the girl's body tensing up as she found her wrist being held tightly with one deft movement, non other by you, which alerted everyone instantly.

“a-ah! let... let—go!” she whined, struggling in your godly grip, and collectively, everyone's took sharp breaths, sensing the thick, sickening spike of your aura.

you felt in your wake a metal sensation against your neck, resulting you to fully awaken in your unconsciousness, eyelashes fluttering open to the sight of a lounge of some sort.

once you did, they all took notice of your eyes the first thing, a color of your irises that brought out the shape of your pupils, it was polaris star shape and unusual — but besides the initial glaring, you shouldn't ignore the cane against your throat.

star of eden. you felt it's familiarity.

and the sovereign's presence. you found him.

unphased, you release the grip on the poor girl's wrist, sitting up slowly with the metal that remained on your throat.

“i see,” you take a breath, your eyes following the direction of the length, up, up and up towards it's bearer. “the mission,” you say with half effort, a little hazy from just waking up. “it was a success.”

haah. you were frightening, your voice dripped with elegance, haunting and low, the astral express' interiors allowing echo with the words you muttered.

mission? as if himeko's and welt's thoughts were one, giving each other looks of shared conflict.

“state your business.” the boy with horns broke the silence, his index and middle finger positioned to your neck aglow, along with the pressure, and yet their unease hadn't settled as you were truly unphased by their threatening actions.

“i relay... a message.” your head rotated slightly, to the all-too-familiar sight of authority.

“you.”

“—you do not belong here.” he intercepts.

“and neither do you, mr. sovereign.”

welt facial features screamed death. his amber irises determined to yours once you found yourself under his gaze, hearing the oh-so familiar title you let him wore again, the strength of your voice not helping as it would echo through the train's lounge.

his companions looked to one another in brief confusion, then all eyes settled on the visibly disturbed, distressed man who looked at you with so much fear and disarray.

flight or fight?

fight.

adrenaline filled hands, fogging his rationality, his mind thick with a current full of resurfacing memories. his astral companions that didn't need to know that side of his, these shattered fragments of his past, he didn't need them to be reminded, he—was about to plunge star of eden through your throat, but his cane. it was already on the other side of the express, flicked away with a lift of your finger, landing against the wall with a clear display of strength, cracks all over the surface the cane piercing through halfway.

“dan hen—” no need to complete as the vidyhadra's cloudhymm magic began to disperse the group towards the man with the glasses, away from you, hurriedly retreating from your presence.

the moment you took your first step up from the cushioned seat, you were greeted by a gravitational force in shape of an black orb, moving straight towards you with its force pulling the air around it—but you've been warned of it by your mentor, the concept of his abilities.

“a warm welcome.” you sighed as they further tensed to you—meeting the black hole with the tip of your summoned lance (the 6th divine key), feigning ignorance to their reactions while the other hand movies, a finger tracing down from your neck to your curves, black dust particles surrounded your body, changing your battered former dressing to a grand, black and elegant flowy dress, perfecting your once messy state.

“forgive us for being such a terrible hosts, however—what is a herrscher doing here?”

“haah, you act as if you weren't one, mr. former herrscher of reason.”

“...strongly,” two fingers hoist his frames up his nose bridge, eyes following the direction of his uneasy companions, before returning to yours.

“i advise you to cease,” he grips his cane. “calling me something in which i've severed ties with long before,” the astral express crew remained on the defense, pairs of eyes guided by determination, and uncertainty all focused towards you.

“i trust that you'd understand why it is heavily recommended.” he finishes with a subtle glance to your spectators, making you follow your gaze.

bronya was right, he really is too guarded. you thought, a little bit of admiration for your mentor, predicting this possibility of his hostility.

𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐓 𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐆 couldn't understand you, even when you bathed in nostalgia for him, even when you aligned where your loyalty lies, meaning no harm, he couldn't understand you, and understanding something you thought you were knowledgeable about left a sour taste in his mouth.

𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐓 𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐆 allowed his defenses to simmer, reassuring his fellow trailblazers that you were an ally, an ally of highest regard more specifically, now aware of your situation along with who, what about and why you were doing these things.

𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐓 𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐆 who had his eyes intently to yours, finding himself wavering to the mention of your mentor (bronya zaychik), having a familiar name escape your lips, uttered in this other universe, so far away from where he was, but he was good at controlling himself and his emotions, except for the gleaming of hope in his tired eyes.

𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐓 𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐆 more curious than ever, once he sees through your facade of intimidating elegance, falling apart to subtle, fidgeting movements with your fingers, the entirety of your demeanor and body language turning a 180 due to his line of questioning and persistence, insisting about the truth as to why you were willing to go such lengths and risk just to find him, even risking yourself that you might not ge able to go back to where he was what he was trailblazing for in the first place.

you're thankful though. that welt yang was more of a gentleman than you thought, having no other information regarding about him, except for official and important things, that made him seem threatening, or even far more than that.

also thankful that he didn't pry about your gradual change in behavior, bit by bit as the two of you continued conversing, discussing, getting interrogated, but you didn't mind, not at all.

not if you were being watched by those brown, tired eyes, attentive especially to you, maybe even captivated too? who knows. you'd brush that last thought under the rug though.

“mr. yang—?” the pink haired girl stepped forward, interrupting your thoughts, along with the conversation you and him were discussing.

“i'm sorry to interrupt but...”

“no,” welt cuts her off, glancing back and forth to you and the rest of his astral crew. “you all have every right to the context of everything's that happened within this short span of time.”

“please,” a mature voice caught your attention briefly, turning your head towards the woman in white and gold ornaments. “take your time.” the red haired woman steps in, walking in between march and himself.

“we trust in your judgement and intuition, if this person is able to be in your presence without so much provoking much hostility within you, then surely,” the red haired woman turns to face to yours, and you greet her with a subtle, necessary smile, and it doesn't go unnoticed that you two were seizing each other up, an internal battle welt and the others could sense.

“we are able to trust her too—and besides, it looks like it's going to take a long time explaining everything, so,” she turns towards her young companions, hands clasped together.

“why don't i prepare all of you some snacks and coffee in the meantime?”

𝒃𝒍𝒂𝒅𝒆 𝒇𝒕. 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒍𝒍𝒂𝒓𝒐𝒏 𝒉𝒖𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒔

𝐊𝐀𝐅𝐊𝐀 didn't expect an actress like you to take part within the stage, let alone bearing a leading and costly role similarly to that grey haired trailblazer.

𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐎𝐒 too. resulting in prolonged scripts, revising plans for penacony, it was disharmony, with elios relying in his hacker again, summoning her and against the IPC for a chance of information about you, but to no avail once she took action.

𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐖𝐎𝐋𝐅 found you, and her research of you frustrating, annoyed that she could've been spending her time grinding shit in her game, and instead she's spending it trying to find things about, tedious really, it was just her rummaging through files from any knowledgeable source she could find.

𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐖𝐎𝐋𝐅 was at a stalemate (for once), when prior to this, she thought she had finally found some dirt on you, only to actually find dirt and dust on all information regarding you, be it from the intelligentsia guild or the genius society—nothing. there was nothing about you, or your species, so.

𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐎𝐒 commanded his faction, already on the tail of the astral express, and word after word, his actors and actresses will get information about you, and of course.

𝐊𝐀𝐅𝐊𝐀 finds you separated from your crew, and yet the woman couldn't shake a certain feeling off. it was neither fear, nor any sort of unease, either way, she became guarded along with her fellow hunters, only up until the point where you, the new actress noticed the group, having them under your gaze.

·୨⚝୧· ⸻ sidestory one: elios' new actress.

spirit whisper. in low, sultry tones the woman said.

that was the name one of her abilities this pecuilar woman had. a mental themed ability, able to torment, suppress, or soothe the psychological state an individual was in, along with being able to control a mortal's state of self to her bidding.

unfortunately, the moment kafka encountered and tried her ability over you, she was met with a flood of honkai energy that protected you infinitely, or rather—reciprocated her gesture.

just toying with this, less superior version, a type of corruption she was using, accessing her mind instead, tormenting the woman in ways more than one, but you can't bring her to her end yet of course, not yet. she fascinated you.

no one could. except for the sovereign, but besides that, it was the way she held herself, her lack of fear, her mannerisms and how she looked, you resisted the urge to turn her into a mindless honkai creature. elegant, powerful, maybe emperor class level even if you decided to do so.

“you interest me.” you gave a faint smile, before tugging one of her glowing threads, pulling her close to you while it was active, then your hand forces contact towards her chin, now forcefully to meet your gaze.

kafka felt a sudden pulse in her essence, her stomach whirring with an unfamiliar sensation as she locks her eyes upon your unique pupils.

young one?

you looked the same age as her.

youthful, beautiful and enchanting, the way your voice sounded; so dreamy with maturity, complimentary with your authoritative narration.

and kafka wasn't smiling this time. a sight silverwolf couldn't believe, taking mementos with her phone from far a reach, away from you.

“you are a walking contradiction, a threat to elio and our goals,,” kafka grips the hilt of her sword, taking a side stance. “you will meet your end. poetically, if not cruelly. as elio's script implies.”

“—and i've never heard a threat sound so enticing before.” you break into a chuckle, giving her a moment of respite, before flicking the woman in the chest, sending her flying with a forceful speed towards the man with dark, navy hair with red tints in the end of his beautiful strands, catching her with a visible shock in his widened eyes.

she reminds you of a certain woman you have once laid eyes on. a certain schariac, but only the way they present their demeanor and wit.

“blade-” cough. “bladie. please, do it.” the woman spoke with shaky exhales, using her spirit whisper to him that failed on you. “unleash the mara—”

“you will refrain from doing so.” you interrupted, suddenly appearing infront of the individuals.

“you—” were so far away, how did you—blade with no choice had to drop kafka, with intent to bring his infused weapon to your throat, only to be met with an lance that manifested from a key that you summoned, parrying him.

blade felt his insides suffocate, with a clenched jaw and his already turbulent mind, only spiraling downwards further at the sight of it. your weapon.

flowered with sharp ornaments of death, a dark material for its main body. it's so intimidatingly elegant, designed as if it were mimicking life and death, a craftsmanship only seen with those who had a knack for birthing weapons — like him as a prime example.

like him.

like him?

what does he mean?

“agh,” he longed for death with a groan, more than he ever did in his long life. having instances of unwanted imagery just thrashing against him, along with the fluctuating mara within, triggering and pulsing, with no kafka to ail his suffering with spirit whisper, enduring memories from the old, back when he was a blacksmith, someone mortal.

and normal.

like yix██g.

but.

who is yix██g?

despite experiencing metal and physical pain, kept his eyes to yours, one hand covering half of his face, the other had let go of his weapon, unable to hold it and himself, just struggling in your almost divine like presence, while you just studied him in clear fascination.

you drifted around the struggling man, your eyes preying upon the sight of liquid gold that seeped out from the glowing cracks, and the noises you found delectable from him came to a sudden halt, reduced to shaky gasps, and throaty exhales.

it was silent.

but it was your doing too.

“you crave death,” you whisper, trailing a sharp nail from the base of his right hand, up towards his bicep, you wrap your hand around it, keeping him in place. “but,” your eyes glow, and he tenses.

“only because the opposite of it clings to you mercilessly,” you can see blade struggle to stand, yet his eyes remained conscious, or trying to keep consciousness, and with a faint smile you help, pressing your front close to his, digging your nails into his arm, earning a grunt of pain from him.

was this it?

was he able to finally achieve—“death,” this word snaps blade out from his sleepy trance, his gaze falling to the new feeling that invaded his flesh.

it was the lance instead of your hand, remaining eye contact as you pierced a small part of his flesh, a closeness not enough to distract him from the sensations of vitality, life and energy, almost like coating his very soul besides his body.

this isn't right.

“n- no...” he grunts, both of his blade's gripped the length your heavy lance, taking in unsteady breaths, locking his eyes to yours—and only now he sees you truly, taking in the sight of you.

“you can't do this to me.”

with those words, the will of honkai whispered to you simultaneously, and you learned nothing but him craving the blankness of death, the end of which he desperately wanted long before all this.

“i-” you mirrored his conflict, facially and emotionally, your own will wavering from this revelation. “you- you don't desire salvation?” you whispered weakly, refocusing his attention and snapping back to reality, biting his lip to blood, torn with the feelings of betrayal from wishing for death all his life, as well as finally enjoying the peace that he finally achieved because of you.

blade could only reply with silence, yet his gaze told a thousand tales of sorrow and a hidden gratitude that he had no choice but to express.

“i see.” but it was too late, seeing as how you pulled you and your lance away from him, your weapon, assuming its key-like state once again before disappearing into a golden dust of air.

he stood still in the same silence, but his expression became more vulnerable each second, and he allowed his gaze that followed you, you that assumingly kept his the mara in him control, or got rid of for good, either way, he was at a silent bliss. it was far superior than spirit whisper.

it's effectiveness would be proven by how he began find himself trembling in self awareness, the fog in his mind that had once enveloped him, always feeling like in the verge of breaking, now met with feelings without torment that he longed for since his many rebirths and eons of living.

“what you crave,” he gets interrupted by your sudden closeness, your face nearing his, all while you trail your index against his bandaged scars on his left hand. “is a temporary solution,” you smile, and he inhales.

“you are already aware of death, so why rehearse it further?” his gaze falls to your gesture with confusion, reacting to your words with disbelief, along with your sudden touch.

you were wiping golden tears that streamed down to his pretty face with your thumb, the remnants of the golden liquid that strained his face looked absolutely endearing, especially when he looked all confused and fragile, causing you to chuckle while your thumb continued to wipe the gold off the handsome canvas of a man.

your touch was similar to how kafka treated him, and yet, yours carried obvious interest and seduction that his scarred, gashed physique subtly trembled to, and it calls to you again as well, the will of honkai whispering the remainder of his struggles to you while you continue to study him—and he was doing the same to you.

“immortality isn't that bad, there are an infinite amount things to do and to live for.” you say with a distant gaze, retracting yourself from him, with blade following you to your direction instinctively, almost as if it were a reflex to follow you.

how can you say those words so simply?

blade stood tall, idle as you drifted away from him, his appearance nothing matching the vulnerability his expression carried, having trouble with breathing, taking in sharp, unsteady breaths as if it were his first time breathing in a long time, and it was, you gave him this new beginning.

something he was unwilling to acknowledge, this overwhelming sense of clarity you gave him, and if it was unintentional or not—what is he to do with this unwanted peace now?

you won't get away with this.

you can't do this to him.

not after all these centuries of pleading for death.

this wasn't the mercy he wanted.

“you—simpleton.” he grunts, clenched fist mirroring the frustration mixing with his weak gaze. he couldn't do anything. how can he?

what could his own blade do to you? and what would it benefit him if does decide to come at you once more? the one that gave him this serenity, this peace of mind he had once had long ago.

and if someone like you existed, won't his loyalties lie better at the hands at someone who was able to give him wanted? instead of continuously giving him tedious tasks, missions, with nothing to look forward to afterwards.

the silence broke with a snap of your fingers, golden dust particles coming off from your fingers, and of course, they had no choice but to refocus their attention to yours.

“somewhere, and someone, knew, that i would be here,” you incite, your irises preying to their direction, settling upon the battered three.

“isolated from the express. a coordination much perfectly timed, and so carefully anticipated,” and your gaze shifts to kafka.

“as if my presence caused a troubled influx of superiority, becoming known to those with great influence.” they all glance to one another, specifically to silverwolf shrugging, before laying their eyes on you as you continue ascending.

“it's not you,”

you point to blade.

“nor you,”

to the silverwolf girl.

“especially not you,” you point to kafka, and can't help but subtly smirk to the sight of her in her physical state, something that you had a delight in causing from her persistence in erasing you from elios' narrative.

“and,” you let out an amused 'hmm.' “the three of you are so willing to reduce yourselves into puppets,” and you raise your chin, and you sneer at their facial response and ques. “so, continue what you are familiar with, and listen well.”

with your index, you do a vertical motion, cutting the ether with a dark glow that trailed your finger against the space before you, the rift having these scarlet and gold colored, mist-like substances seeping out from its contents.

the rift expands shortly after its creation, warping and molding into a dark gate, with an arched entrance, and an abyss at the other side, pertaining the same two-colored mists that glittered towards you.

the two hunters had already helped kafka up, continued to look towards you that was prepping to take your leave. “on the day, where···i find the path of akivili struggling against their foes, will be the same day where the concept of their faction ends. this includes any living, and non-living thing.” you give both the two contrasting individuals, before taking a glance to blade.

“because a herrscher—no,” you pause, rethinking your choice of words, turning your body to them once more. if welt had provided you information that holds true, then.

“classify me with a category you're all familiar with, to give your elios' an idea of what kind you are dealing with, and is planning against. you are making an enemy of an emanator of a pathless.”

you sigh through your nose.

“and maybe something more.”

but this faction didn't need to know about that yet, especially blade.

[editing/revising/proofreading]

[this part below is being edited real time.]

”... And, if any of you partake in harming The Sovereign, Welt Yang, I will gladly ruin the continent of this universe only within a few hours, heed my warning, or die permanently to the touch of my weapon.”

Permanently. Permanently?

Warm, throbbing and dizzying.

That's what he felt at the moment from the genuine threat you gave, he sensed no bluffs, no lies and only the truth, and he... found complete comfort in knowing you can give such a wish to the trouble man who struggles in his immortality.

Blade's heart only fluttered to your words upon talking about a permanent death, while Kafka only looked... genuinely annoyed for the first time, something even Silverwolf couldn't achieve.

Herrscher... Herrscher... Whatever you called yourself, it was an old language and something Silverwolf can definitely look up about.

And you, mentioning Welt Yang of the Astral Express—even if you said something else... about... him being the Sovereign? Them following Elio's next scriptures, they will definitely be stopping by to wherever Welt Yang is, alone or not, ignoring your genuine warning with the goal of attaining information from him regarding to you.

Blade... smitten at the thought of permanent death, only wanted to meet you again, to feel your authoritive, piercing gaze to him again.

He tried his best, prolonging the pierced scar you placed upon his flesh, to not heal immediately, but ultimately losing to his immortality a few days after, leaving him restless and unyielding to the thought of your reverence since meeting you.

Herrscher... of Death.

Something his mind kept repeating, and the threatening, genuine tone of your elegant and sensual voice just left him alone with his vitality, his newfound serene and awareness of himself that you bestowed to him only frazzled his mind and the clear emotions he was once experiencing again in a frantic daze.

He will plead to Elio, to Kafka, to let him meet you again—ultimately being denied as you were the most dangerous leading actress in their script that they desperately tried resuming without fail. He needed to see you again, that was apparent, and his visible desperation only amused Silverwolf while she worked, researching about you with Blade by her side, waiting for the silver haired girl to indulge him anything related to you.

You tested his patience immediately.

You were emitting such intense, unfamiliar blazing heat signatures that anyone with the technology or the abilities to sense such energy can easily detect in any reach within the universe, thus alerting... a few Aeons.

But only The Aeon Of Destruction was the first to take action.

The Aeon himself... had a certain difficulty capturing you in his domain in psychological aspects, all because of the intense, infinite authority that the Will of Honkai had that resided within you.

You were on your way towards Jarilo-VI, heeding the cute little human whose wrist you gripped firmly previously request since encountering the—Trailblazers...

is what they call themselves, apparently they're also under the belief of what they call an "Aeon" something similar to you, an Aeon of Trailblaze, named Aki- Akivili? No matter, The Sovereign had already informed you quite a lot, important information that had stored inside your brain with the help of the Will, that enhanced your capabilities in all aspects.

Once again, you were on your way towards the supposed cold planet you haven't been to, heeding a request to the human named after a month, flying along the sea of stars with your flowy, dark and elegant dress, only to be met with a sudden bright light combusted to where you previously were that you effortlessly dodged.

Looking over your shoulder with a stern gaze, your irises land upon an unfamiliar figure, a figure whose presence heavily differed from the people you encountered previously.

Your stoic expression changed to one that was filled with amusement, your lips curled into a sly smirk as you turn your body to face the figure who dripped in gold.

“Now this... is a situation I've certainly been wondering about since my time here in this universe.”

You enraged him with the familiar feelings of anger, frustration and all things negative.

You weren't cowering in fear, dread and insanity like the last time people laid their eyes upon, and that angered him further.

“Reveal your nature, or perish to my wrath.”

...

“And who, might I be revealing myself to?”

You questioned the Aeon back?

A sudden whip of golden liquid hurled towards you in a speed that only beings like you and him are able to witness.

But it was met with an effortless vertical rift of darkness that emitted with white dust particles that met the aureate liquid whip, and you weren't moving an inch as well.

The Aeon's slashed chest that continued to drip with gold, throbbed with a slowly growing sense of wonder from your piercing, unwavering gaze.

A staring contest basically, all while both of your abilities continued to clash each other, but one thing was clear... You genuinely weren't phased by such a situation at all, especially with that growing faint smirk that he grew more irritated of.

Fucks sake, he was an Aeon.

But you...

He didn't know anything about you, everyone except for your mentor's mentor (Welt Yang).

How was the Aeon supposed to know? That you were a living death, an absolutely feared existence back in your homeworld?

As soon as an uncontrollable yawn escaped your mouth, your little action caused the being to flare up in golden destruction of his boiling liquid.

“You dare...”

“I dare.”

He genuinely wanted to go all out.

But how can you satiate the thoughts the stirred endlessly within his heavily troubled mind? How can you heed his running questions if he decided to end you? (He can't, if he tried either way.)

“You're one of the creatures who call themselves... an Aeon, that the mortals revel and believe in, aren't you?”

Creatures. Creatures???

He's so pissed off that its starting to show on his face, veins popping all over his jaw along with the dilating gaze of fury was visible to you, causing your playfulness to highten. He was one of those type of 'rulers' that you despised, the same type of Herrschers who wanted to rule over humanity that you hated.

And the fact that you called him a creature.

Another blink, and he was suddenly infront of you, fuming before you while you planted your 'innocent' smirk towards the tall, menacing Aeon.

“What are you.”

Now, Welt Yang had mentioned the time, date and the advance technologies about this universe to you. Of course it was all vast and drastically different to both of your homeworlds, even the Previous Era's technologies heavily differed to this universe's, and this universe was all the way fast forward to a more than a thousand years later, and the time this mission you did in hopes of discovering Welt Yang's whereabouts happened, it was 2029 in your homeworld, a vital information that heavily fascinated you.

With that knowledge in mind.

“An old god.”

“No such thing.”

“Of course, you most likely came into life after the creation of the old, ancient rulers titled Herrschers.”

...

Herrs...cher?

“An old language... You speak the truth.”

“But of course.”

What can he do now? What is he able to do?

You were a more ancient testimony in contrast to him, he couldn't... fanthom you, understand you.

“And I come from another universe if it satisfies your loud thoughts.”

“...That is if you believe in multiverses, being who weeps in gold.”

“Mm.” That made sense to the Aeon, a concept he can grasp. His anger immediately soothed, replaced with a natural curiousity and fascination towards the being before him.

“Before so rudely interrupting my travels,”

“All you need to know, is that I side with humanity.”

Oh.

“And I've most definitely heard of your endless atrocities and sins against the mortals who struggled to your lowly imbued subjects that abide your words, Aurelian.”

Referring to the time where the pink haired mortal that shared their recent adventure against a being named Phantylia the Undying, a Lord Ravager who works under the Aeon, Nanook.

The air tensed once again, this time the Aeon felt your seriousness, your stern, unwavering gaze.

Your words raised a question within him.

“...Why do you side with such weak, feeble and distasteful creatures? Beings that taint themselves with nothing but greed, selfishness, and an endless need to hurt their fellow kin—”

“You speak from experience, don't you?”

Ah. That was haunting, for a split second.

Oh how he hated your words with a passion.

Only because... you spoke nothing but continuous truth, and despite his supreme status of being the Aeon of Destruction...

The forgotten, brought out once mofe with the truth can only truly waver whatever creature harbors a dark, sinful past—and we all know this certain Aeon, is just oozing with a heavy amount of all kinds of negativity. Holding eons and eons worth of sin, all by a tall, dark, and quite ravishing figure.

Bzzt Bzzt ... Bzzt

Right, Jarilo-VI.

“Mm, however fascinating this situation is, I must take my lea—”

“No.” (Decode: I'm not done with you.)

“Unfortunately, that is not for you to decide, Aurelian.”

“Tch, foolish woman.” Says the Aeon and his uncharacteristic actions right now.

Aurelian... you already had a nickname for him? Teasing bastard.

Nanook attempted to grab your arm, only for you for you to retract and raise it up as your face breaks into a knowing smirk once again from earlier.

Wh—!?

“You dare defy me?”

“You dare provoke me?” Your smirk fainted, narrowing your eyes to his actions.

“You're blessed to witness my appearance that many perish in hopes of understanding the concept of an Aeon.”

He attempted to attain you in his grasp once again, which he successfully did as his hands finds its way swiftly to your wrist.

“Unhand me, the subjects of Akivili need my presence.” — “At once.”

“Resist once more and you'll b—”

You sigh, in defeat, summoning the tall, black and red gate you previously with your other free hand, and he took witness to your effortless abilities.

“Encounter me once again in another time where I don't have matters to attend to, Aurelian.”

The moment he loosened his grip upon witnessing your summoned gate, you quickly free yourself from him, floating backwards towards the gate while your eyes settled into his, before disappearing into the gate towards Jarilo-VI.

Too agile, he thought.

“... How difficult.” He referred to your enigmatic existence. Nanook's thoughts lingered about you, a serious threat to his existence and his other fellow Aeons, and yet couldn't help but think about the nickname you gave him.

The way your rifts of darkness swallowed his bright, golden attacks with minimal effort, he wanted to fight you again, maybe even seriously, he wanted to converse with you once more, more about you, your capabilities.

And, as trifling this encounter was, this one wasn't the worse one—for the Interastral Peace Corporation (IPC) had their eyes set on you.

2024 CHIYO·SO.

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milksnake-tea · 1 year ago

Text

The Stellaron Hunters were a group renowned and hated across the galaxies, both feared and respected by the factions. But under those skillful manipulations and operations, was an organization as put together as a monkey circus. You should know this best, as a member of this menagerie.

stellaron hunter!reader (no specific pairings)

contains: cursing, possibly ooc, written before version 1.2, just a bunch of silly shenanigans, unedited, can be read as romantic and platonic !!

word count: 3.7k

a/n: i had to rewrite this like... 4 times bc tumblr kept deleting it :// anyways night dancer got me through this piece so :D u can tell i have a blade preference but listen he's hot

Before we get on with the sillies, let's lay down some groundwork.

Every Stellaron Hunter has a specific role in mind. Blade is the feral dog that you throw at people, Kafka pisses people off (and shoots ig), and Silver Wolf gets past all defenses.

You're the expert on espionage and disguise. With the power of masks, voice changers, and makeup, you can become basically anyone if you put your mind to it. Even people with completely different builds than you, you could pull off - as long as the holographs don't start glitching out.

You're often paired with Silver Wolf in order to infiltrate various bases. Silver Wolf can transcend any physical barriers, while you sweet talk your way into the inner circles of any leaders. Sometimes, you implant ideas into people's heads in order to guide them towards a certain path, sometimes you just do it for the fun of it.

Your favorite victim so far has been the Express. Ever since the Trailblazer joined, you've entertained yourself by posing as them or other members of the Express (the only ones you can't figure out are Welt Yang and the conductor, Pom-Pom).

And it was surprising, how easily you could trick March 7th and Dan Heng. You had no idea where the original Trailblazer was (probably up some poor soul's dumpster), but frankly, you didn't care.

You somehow managed to trick the two for the better half of a day. It wasn't until you didn't jump at the sight of the first trashcan on the Xianzhou Luofu that the duo realized that something was off.

"Who- Who are you?!"

March stepped back, Dan Heng already drawing his spear. But you weren't going to give in so easily. No, you wanted to see just how far you could take this.

"Guys?" You feigned hurt and confusion as you faced the two. "What're you..."

"Don't play dumb," Dan Heng cut you off, thrusting his spear under your chin. "You're not them. The real Trailblazer would've started ransacking that trashcan by now."

What kind of freak-

"C'mon guys, I have taste," you sighed, crossing your arms. "The trashcans here don't compare to the ones at Belobog. They're not as shiny."

"Trailblazer said that appearance doesn't matter when it comes to trash!" March shot back, her bow appearing in her hands. "Enough games, who are you really?"

You paused for a moment, contemplating your options. You could try to bullshit your way out of this, but you sincerely doubted you would be able to. What kind of freak personality did Silver Wolf program into the vessel, anyways?

You sighed, making the two tense up. Your face, still that of the Trailblazer's, twisted into a condescending sneer, before you doubled over in laughter.

"Ah... Damnit, and here I thought I was doing well!" You stretched your arms, March backing away from you. "Well, that just goes to show, I still have much to improve."

With a snap of your fingers, your disguise melted away, revealing your true appearnce.

"You're-!" March gasped. "You're one of the Stellaron Hunters!"

"Am I really that famous?" you pondered, leaning back on the railing. "And here I thought Kafka or Silver Wolf were more popular."

"What're you trying to pull," Dan Heng growled, "pretending to be the Trailblazer? What did you do to them?"

"Oh, nothing," you replied simply, popping your bone. "I just sent them a coupon for that restaurant down the street. So don't worry yourselves, I'm just here to have a little bit of fun."

Before the two could comprehend the stupidity of their companion, you jumped onto the railing, balancing on your toes.

"Well, it's been fun, Nameless." You waved cheerfully, taking a step back into the open air. "Let's meet again sometime soon, yeah?"

"Wait!" They rushed to the railing, adamant on catching you - but you had already vanished.

The world might see you as a complete weirdo, but honestly, you aren't even the worst of the Stellaron Hunters. In your humble opinion, you're the lesser evil compared to your comrades.

If you're going to survive in this job, you have to get used to Kafka bullying you. Don't worry, she does it to everyone, it's not just you. But signing up to become a Stellaron Hunter also means you sign up to a life of relentless teasing.

You roll your eyes at the feeling of a familiar gun barrel against your head. Kafka holds it against your temple firmly, but you know her finger isn’t anywhere near the trigger. It’s not like you’re Blade, who somehow survived getting thrown off a four-story building.

“Now who do we have here?” Kafka muses lazily. “A potential spy from the IPC? Or perhaps, one of the Xianzhou Cloud Knights?”

“Don’t fuck with me, Kafka,” you turn around, unimpressed. With one move, you pulled off your mask, glaring at her pointedly as you grab a bottle of water. “I know that thing isn’t loaded.”

“Oh, it’s you, [Name],” Your senior gasps mockingly, removing the gun. “When did you come in? I could’ve sworn an intruder-”

You throw the bottle at her. She dodges because of course she does.

And Kafka isn't even the least of your worries. At least she has a sense of financial responsibility.

There's no doubt that Silver Wolf is integral to the workings of the Stellaron Hunters, especially with her hacking abilities. She's certainly skilled with her work, and she has saved your ass many times before.

But sometimes, you have to play babysitter to her, because homegirl may or may not have a gambling addiction, especially when it comes to whatever those gacha games of hers. Whenever she visits the city's nearby arcade or casino, either you or Kafka have to be around so that she doesn't end up gambling all of your funds away. You would get Blade to do it, except he couldn't care less about your financial problems.

“Let me go! I’ve almost got it, I know I do!”

Silver Wolf kicked at your shoulders wildly as you hoisted her up. You paid her no mind as you left the arcade, Blade walking in tow. You kept a firm grip on his sleeve, making sure he didn’t run off and start any trouble. You saw the look he gave the claw machine. If you hadn’t dragged Silver Wolf away, he would’ve likely broken the thing out of impatience.

“I was so close!” The girl on your shoulder whined, like a kid who didn’t get their favorite toy.

“You already spent 500k on it,” you replied bluntly. “It’s a scam, don’t you know?”

“So what?” Silver Wolf retorted. “I would’ve won!”

“Yeah,” you shifted her up, your shoulder getting sore. You weren’t really built for hard labor. “After you spent another hundred thousand credits, sure.”

“I wasn’t!” She’d stopped fighting you, now hanging limply so that her entire weight pressed down on you. “I could’ve hacked it-”

“Really? You’d put that much effort into a claw machine?” Before Silver Wolf could argue, your phone dinged, as did Blade’s and Silver Wolf’s - successfully interrupting your bickering. You glanced at Blade as he checked his phone for the three of you.

“It’s Kafka,” he reported, typing out a quick response. “She says it’s time to go back.”

“Tell her we’ll be there in 10 minutes, if Silver stops her tantrum,” you said, looking pointedly at Silver Wolf. The hacker kicked you in response.

“I am not throwing a tantrum,” she huffed. You rolled your eyes.

“Sure, whatever you say.”

Speaking of which, Blade is like your guard dog. A very intimidating guard dog. With a sword. And attitude issues.

Come to think of it, he's more like a cat if anything.

When he's not being launched at the faces of various enemies, Blade often finds himself acting as your shadow. He just follows you around, doesn't say anything, and the second he smells a whiff of a threat, the sword comes out and you have to talk him down before someone calls the cops.

It seems that you’re the only one unaffected by the suffocating tension clogging up the clothing store. There’s an obvious circle of space surrounding you and Blade as you browse through various suits, intent on finding one that would fit the man standing behind you. Elio’s next script required that Blade and Kafka go to a dinner party, and knowing Blade, the man didn’t have any clothes other than the ones you and the other Hunters got for him.

It wasn’t that Blade didn’t have an eye for fashion, rather, he simply didn’t care much for it. Shopping wasn’t exactly his cup of tea either. His hands itched for action, but he did have to admit that this was better than sulking around in his room all day.

You pulled out another suit that had caught your eye, a simple black one with a bronze lapel. It would fit the vest you’d already picked out for him. Holding it out in front of Blade, you squint as you try to picture what it’d look like on him.

Decent enough. You hummed in satisfaction, turning the suit around to show it to him. “What do you think?”

Blade shrugs, only giving the suit a brief glance. “It’s fine.”

You sigh, giving him a look. “Do you like it?”

“It isn’t the worst thing you’ve put me in,” he says nonchalantly. You huff, lightly hitting his chest. For a second, a glimmer of a smile flickers onto his face at your action.

“Watch your attitude,” you reprimand playfully. “Otherwise I’m giving you the shittiest suit I can find in here.”

“You wouldn’t,” Blade says easily as the two of you walk toward the cash registers. “Your heart couldn’t bear to do that to a face like mine.”

“Cheeky brat.”

You remember the day Blade was first brought to the base, picked up by Kafka and Elio like a stray cat. He had a strange resemblance to that of a drowned rat, being absolutely sopping wet.

Your seniors just kinda dropped him off into your room with the only instructions being "Make him look presentable", which didn't give you a lot to work with. You weren't sure how you were going to fix him, but after a lot of bathing, hair drying, and brushing, you soon discovered that the drowned rat had a pretty face.

So basically, you're the only reason why he looks remotely presentable.

And quite frankly, Blade does not make it easier on you. He doesn't care about how he looks, only how his enemies look - and that's dead and unmoving. Sir somehow manages to fuck up his fit every time he goes on mission, coming back with his very expensive clothes, mind you, covered in blood, and his hair messed up.

The audacity of him, to just walk into your room unannounced, clothes completely torn and hair a mess, and plop himself down on your perfectly clean chair and wait for you to fix him up. Granted, you'll do it (you wouldn't allow any of your comrades to leave without a decent haircut), but that doesn't mean you won't rattle his ear off with a scolding.

“Just what did you do to it this time?”

You grumbled as you cut away at Blade’s hair, the man in question sitting in your salon chair and scrolling through his phone. He had just come back from a mission, and this time he somehow managed to cut off the bottom half of his long locks, resulting in a horrendously uneven cut.

“You’re literally so photogenic and then you go and do this?” you huffed, blowing his hair into his face with a blowdryer.

“You can fix it, can’t you?” Blade didn’t even look up from his screen as he texted Silver Wolf, likely using this as an excuse to escape her pleas to game with her.

You scowl, venting your anger as you brushed his hair, cutting a few extra strands. “Just because I can, doesn’t mean I always have the time to do so! Now sit still.”

Oh, and another thing? There's no such thing as privacy when you're with the Stellaron Hunters.

You first learned this when you came back from a particularly grueling mission, early on in your career with the Hunters. You were covered in blood that wasn't (or was it?) yours, drenched from the rain and safe to say, not in the greatest of moods. All you wanted was to take a shower, and preferably, take an undisturbed nap on your warm bed.

Unfortunately, Kafka had other plans.

You opened the door to find her lounging on YOUR bed, IN THE DARK, ruffling through your makeup collection like it was normal. She didn't even seem bothered when you flicked on the light, didn't even acknowledge you until you threw a knife at her.

And what did she say when you made it abundantly clear that she shouldn't be in here? Nothing. She just scrunched up her nose and told you to take a shower.

And that is how you learned that having your own room is utterly useless because every single Hunter could pick a lock. You could try to use an electric one. Silver Wolf sure did. And to her credit, it worked, until a certain dog named Blade came around and just kicked the door down.

Out of all the Stellaron Hunters to creep around in your room, Sam was by far the worse. You could handle Kafka going through your makeup, or Blade judging your taste in books. You can deal with Elio having his fucking shoes on your bed because he's your boss and honestly what are you going to do against an actual seer? Exactly. Nothing. At least his shoes are usually clean.

But Sam? He doesn't visit so that he can go through your things, or just hang around. No. He comes around with the pure intention of scaring the shit out of you.

He just waits?? Outside your door?? In the dark?? Until you open it and he jumps you. It usually ends with someone getting punched, but honestly, it's nothing either of you couldn't handle.

Silver Wolf likes to pretend that she isn't as bad as the other because in her words, she "gives you a warning". Said warning is "You better be decent" before she barges in and starts rambling about the new game she bought.

One time you were not decent and someone had to pay the price. That someone was not you.

There is one good thing that comes out of all this invasion of privacy. Because whatever the others do to you, you get to do right back to them.

“What does this button do?”

“Don’t touch that.” Kafka playfully whined as Silver Wolf snatched away the console in her hands. The hacker was less than pleased, having returned to her room only to discover that she’d been chosen as the Hunters’ victim for today.

You lean against Kafka’s shoulder, pouting alongside her at your latest toy being confiscated. “C’mon Silver, let us have some fun at least.”

“After you two invaded my room? Not a chance,” she replied, tossing the console to somewhere you and Kafka couldn’t reach. Kafka merely hummed at the loss, leaning back onto Silver Wolf’s messy bed.

“You know, you should really clean up around here,” she commented. “They nearly killed themselves tripping over a stack of DVDs.”

“Agreed, although I wouldn’t mention that last part,” you said, picking up another one of Silver Wolf’s consoles. This one had a fighting game on it. Silver Wolf rolled her eyes as you quickly busied yourself with fighting the boss she had left off on.

“If you don’t want to get hurt, then don’t come in,” she said, plopping down on the bed next to you. Kafka smiled.

“Sure, but where’s the fun in that?” she asked, watching you tap away at the screen. “It was just a suggestion, no need to get all worked up.”

“I’m not, but okay.” Silver Wolf hissed as your character took damage. “If you get my character killed-”

“I won’t,” you retorted, swiftly defeating the boss. You tossed Silver Wolf the console. “See?”

“You’re half dead,” Silver Wolf deadpanned.

“Doesn't matter. I still won.”

Your group chat is an absolute mess, with no one understanding Silver Wolf's slang or dialect. Blade's outdated brain short-circuited the first time he touched a phone, while Kafka just silently accepted her fate. You often have to translate because Silver Wolf sure wasn't going to.

Gambling Addict: Ykw blade

Gambling Addict: This is why u pull no bitches

Gambling Addict: Bc if [name] didnt yassify u

Gambling Addict: U would have zero rizz

Gambling Addict: Negative rizz actually

You: I see no lie here

Gambling Addict: So stfu about my social life at least i can pull bitches

DONT PICK UP: [Name], translate

Gambling Addict: [Name] i have ur closet at gunpoint

You: She means Blade can't attract maidens bc he has as much charisma as a blobfish

You: Also stfu silver I know you can't shoot for shit

Gambling Addict: [NAME]

Gambling Addict: Actually no, ur right

DONT PICK UP: Oh, I see

You: I'm always right 💅✨

DONT PICK UP: That does sound like Bladie

Gambling Addict: Listen

Gambling Addict: All i know is that blades been real quiet since i said that

Blade: Silver Wolf.

Gambling Addict: And so he speaks!

Blade: Count your days.

You like to fuck with the others by pretending to be them. Blade nearly murdered you because one time you got bored, and decided that slandering his nonexistent image would be ample entertainment.

In minutes, you turned yourself into Blade's lookalike, and spent the afternoon prancing around in a maid dress because what else were you going to use it for? Unfortunately, that also put you as a target for Blade's wrath. Fortunately, you have a lot of experience escaping people you pissed off.

Silver Wolf still has the pictures. Kafka laughed her ass off until you did the exact same thing to her. And that's when she started shooting.

"I can't believe you did this," you sniffed dramatically, fake tears falling from your face. In your hands was what used to be your pride and joy, the beautiful maid dress that you'd spent millions on (lie).

What used to be a gorgeous garment with frills and lace, was now in tatters from Kafka's bullets and Blade's sword. The two aforementioned culprits weren't the slightest bit guilty as they watched you lament over your clothes.

"You should've thought of that before you started walking around like that," Kafka blew at her smoking gun. Blade nodded firmly in agreement, holding his sword close to his chest.

"It was cute!" you huffed, shaking your head. You weren't actually mad at them. You could always buy another dress to mess with them. Besides, you already got what you wanted.

Your gaze met with Silver Wolf's, who grinned back, holding her phone in between her fingers.

None of the Stellaron Hunters know basic first aid, and that includes you. Most of you just slap on a few bandages, some weird smelling ointment, and call it a day. Silver Wolf doesn't even do that, she just downs three bowls of rice and walks off the broken arm like a Sunday hangover.

But one day, just as your luck would have it, you came back to base with an injury that you couldn't just bandage away. No one knew what to do, and you were bleeding out fast. So what did this hardened group of criminals do?

They googled it. They fucking googled it.

Silver Wolf deadass just searched up how to fix you while you were bleeding out next to her. Kafka, to her credit, did hold your hand to try and comfort you (albeit mockingly), and Blade just stood back and watched. If Elio foresaw a way to help you, well, he didn't say anything.

But it all turned out all right in the end. Eventually, Silver Wolf gave up and simply shoved a bowl of her fried rice in front of you. You still don't know how or why, but it somehow worked. It shouldn't have, but it did.

The scene in front of you reminded you of a bunch of school children watching a chemistry experiment for the first time. The Stellaron Hunters crowded around you, eyes trained onto your closing wound with unnerving fascination. Even Blade, who rarely had any emotion at all, was watching you with the faintest glimmer of awe.

"What the hell did you put in that thing?" you turned in disbelief to Silver Wolf, the only unphased person in the room. The hacker was already somewhere else, her thumbs tapping rapidly as she played another one of her rhythm games.

"Trash."

"WHAT." You almost throttled her before she quickly teleported a safe distance away, clutching her phone to her chest.

"Kidding, kidding, no need to get all worked up!" She sighed, clearing a level without looking.

"Just some solid water and protein rice, that's all."

"You mean ice?" You swatted at Kafka, who was poking at where your wound used to be.

"No."

Safe to say, the Stellaron Hunters are an... interesting bunch, to put it lightly. They're all assholes, including you, and seem to thrive over inconveniencing each other. The only time you all can somewhat work together is when you're acting out one of Elio's scripts.

But you'd be lying if you said you hated working at this job. You live for the thrill of things, and being a Hunter was the most fun you've had in a long, long time, even if your coworkers occasionally annoyed you to death.

None of you would ever say it aloud, but you wouldn't trade each other for anything in the world.

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