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chiyoso · 1 year ago

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𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒓𝒔𝒄𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒐𝒇 𝒅𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒉. HI3xHSR CROSSOVER.

series masterlist | part two

𖥔 following content: crossover! · oneshots mixed with hcs · suggestive and mature themes · reader is oc coded · female reader and no mentions of y/n.

𖥔 author notes: (11/21/23) everything is planned out and this will be a series! // (4/17/24 - 01/25/25) revisions.

𖥔 featured actors: astral express · stellaron hunters · nanook.

PROLOGUE: “ENCOUNTERS.”

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.

“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.

cold. a metal object, a sensation familiar against your neck, and you were inclined to wake.

once you did, they all took note of your eyes the first thing, unusual and inhumane — but besides the initial glaring, you shouldn't ignore the cane against your throat.

star of eden. you felt it's familiarity.

the sovereign's presence.

welt yang. you found him.

unphased, you release the grip on the poor girl's wrist, sitting up slowly with the cane 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.”

and you were frightening. a voice commanding, dripped in elegance, both haunting and low, allowing the lounge's interiors to echo your voice.

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.

“the sovereign.” your head rotated slightly, to the all-too-familiar sight of authority. “you.”

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

“and neither do you, herrscher of reason.”

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.

“forgive me,” you raise your chin. “former herrscher of reason.” and you smile, necessary.

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.

it was flight or 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—” cloudhymm magic already had began to disperse the group, towards the man with the glasses and 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,” welt intercepts. “however, i will feel the need to ask who sent you- no, how. you couldn't have went the same way as me i- ”

“your former pupil is nothing but a genius.”

welt's jaw clenches. “bronya...” he sighs through his nose, two fingers hoist his frames up his nose bridge, eyes following the direction of his uneasy companions, before returning to yours.

he still doubts you, and you know that well.

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

“the imaginary tree has too many mysteries,” your hand makes a slight movement and they instinctively tense. you couldn't help but allow a hints of smugness to slip on your mouth, conjuring an illustrious concept of the imaginary tree, dust-like golden sparkles being its fundamental values for the imagery.

“i know this theory is carved deep inside your mind somewhere, but my master - your former pupil, along with lady seele, has turned theories into... reality.” your hand suddenly closes into a fist, the illusion poofing into a cloudy mist, returning to nothing.

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 die down slowly, 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 one bit.

“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?”

your eyes dart to the queasy group, shifting in place upon the mention of coffee. “...lovely.”

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.

SIDESTORY: UNFABLED ACTRESS.

𝒃𝒍𝒂𝒅𝒆 𝒇𝒕. 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒍𝒍𝒂𝒓𝒐𝒏 𝒉𝒖𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒔

𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐎𝐒 too. used to expectancy, steered completely the opposite way that resulted in varying prolonged scripts, revising plans for penacony. an unwelcomed disharmony much present, left for the trailblazers to cleanup, along 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 provoked, was irritated at even the idea of you, 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's composure returns, indifferent to your presence, his subordinates 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.

“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.

yet, 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, bringing torment to 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?

“miss divine, you don't look over a day fifty, quite the joker aren'tcha?”

youthful, beautiful and enchanting, the way kafka's voice sounded, in contrast to yours, 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 a reach far away from you.

...she hoped.

“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.”

“—alas, you tempt me. 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.

“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—”

“—that isn't recommended.” 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.

“is it... 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 hands gripped the length of 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.” he rasps in venomous whispers.

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 healing?” 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.

“so much of death carved into your flesh, why must you need to 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, the three 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 girl in pixels.

“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 mm. “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, listen to what you are familiar with, and listen well.”

with your index, you do a vertical motion, cutting the ether with a dark, starry 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 their very faction ends.” 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 are planning against. you are making an enemy of an emanator of a pathless.”

you sigh through your nose.

“or maybe something more.” you say, a dread said with a bitter tone for the paths they've chosen, and choices inevitable. this faction and others don't need to know about you, not yet.

especially the individual named blade.

𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐃𝐄 found both relief and longing in your threats. where the two introduced a warmth, but it would serve to be dizzying. he couldn't help it, he was able to think again. he could think and feel, awareness was in his grasp, and it was all thanks to you. to the you that linked yourself with a possibility of a permanent death with absolutely no bluffs. 𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐃𝐄 will confide himself to a truth and a decision relating to you. you, mentioning the astral express, a thread that involves and leads to you.

𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐃𝐄 will ignore your warning to the stellaron hunters, in pursuit of your presence, neglecting the confined of elios' script, and he asked it for it, no, he had to plead. it was unbecoming but most necessary. and if he is denied this task, blade could only almost be tempted to leave, to provoke and be fired by the scriptwriter himself. he was in this faction to seek death, but now that there is a something possible outside this group... really, there is nothing stopping him from doing what he wants, and what he needs.

𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐃𝐄 tried his best in these several weeks of restless searching about you with silverwolf but to no avail, meanwhile prolonging the pierced scar you placed upon his flesh. do not heal do not heal do n- he digs his nails into his knees, gritting his teeth, the last remnants of the wounds you left him finally healing once more.

𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐃𝐄 doesn't plead, but he will ask, he has to. to elio just this once. or twice. if not, to kafka, to allow him this form of indulgement.

𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐃𝐄 isolates himself from those uncaring of his wishes from the ultimatum of being denied, with reasons being that you were the “most dangerous leading actress in their script.”

𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐃𝐄 decides to seek silverwolf. a tolerable figure in his life. reliance is his undoing, kafka's failure isn't his own, he will not stand to do nothing while what he craved is out there. warm and welcoming, he imagines, seeing you once again.

SIDESTORY: OF TWO SHADES OF GOLD.

𝒂𝒆𝒐𝒏 𝒐𝒇 𝒅𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒖𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏, 𝒏𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒐𝒌.

you tested THEIR patience immediately.

announcing your presence this way. emitting an intense and unfamiliar energy, and despite your loud and arrogant presence, you weren't under the radar of every mortal made thing... except for a few beings, such as gaining the attention of a few aeons.

and one took action - no, THEY struggled to do so. there was a difficulty in pursuing you in mind, a blockage most difficult to persist and breakthrough. to have control over you, unattainable and the reason? unidentifiable. almost infinite. an authority with a host that could have and should have been nothing to THEM.

jarilo-vim a planet stuck in the storms of neverending winter, caused by a stellaron that had been recently negated and saved. it was one of the recommendations of where to explore next for research. a reliable source from a certain group.

after apologies and taking the time of comfort, welt yang and his companions formally introduced themselves the trailblazers, the group that saved the said planet.

the astral express. a train of endless travel, ran by a creature that you had mixed feelings about.

the history of the train remains interesting and beneficial to you and your research. those special enough for a 'god' to acknowledge their existence given a gift, and it was something that gave them abilities that has helped them evolve through time.

although most mortals can attain to heights unmatched, one thing was clear. all were following a path in this world, and there was nothing more annoying than... flocking sheep, a final mindset that is normalized upon the weak and it would take great effort in practicing the opposite of it, especially if you aren't deemed special.

and those special enough, enough to defend themselves against something greater than that concept, should be worthy to become the pathmakers. it's a must. you are worthy yourself. there is no question, a doubt non-existent, because you find yourself in one, perfect piece despite being met with a sudden bright light combusting to where you previously were that you effortlessly dodged.

no one special could have survived that.

you are more.

and THEM who you acknowledge, worthy of your attention, looking over your shoulder with a stern yet curious gaze. your eyes take in the sight of an unfamiliar figure, a presence that heavily differed from the people you encountered previously.

“now this... is a situation i've certainly wondered about.” you face the higher presence, surely not more than you, and you drink in the sight of liquid gold.

poor bloodied sheep with no horns to spare.

your gaze unwavering, piercing and steady towards THEM.

arrogant arrogant arrogant arrogant-

the more warlike and levelheaded, the more you return the greetings of death, executed in various forms. this aeon for example. THEIR attacks were vicious, almost personal with no emotion, a clear goal to destroy - and yet THEY couldn't.

not under your gaze. a goal only destructive to the stars gathered around you and THEM. each attack against you was met with no effort, a defense camouflaged with the darkness surroundings both of you, a battle with no movement but a retaliation of spacial rifts and a persistent whip, boiling in gold.

you stand tall, and he does the same, both unmoving, one gaze demeaning the other contemplative. “there is reason in every molecule,” you say after a very brief disintegration of silence from both of your attacks.

“you-” you blink. “-are the most recent ascension i hear,” but you found yourself before him, over THEIR height as THEY hoist you up slowly from the neck.

glorious and all conquering.

you cannot breathe.

you could only look.

ravenous with an unending rage.

“you-” struggle, and struggle. your fingers twitches beneath his arm.

there is a gap. excessively large. is this humiliation your salvation? you are trapped, encased by THEIR simple hold. the circulation is cut off, the other hand threatening to put a hole in your body, the abilities that gave you immunity to the stars and space was withdrawn, the galaxy suffocating you and all you could see was gold, gold and gold.

air air air air air air air air air ai

“what are you.” THEY ask.

the suffocation turned into drowning, life found its way to your eyes, lids snapping back open but only halfway along with your parted lips.

death has never tasted so good.

you choke on the gold that he fed into your mouth, sourcing from the slit of his palm that he squeezed into you.

you know he won't give you the chance to ask again.

“arro...gance.” you breathe and breathe and- “i couldn't agree more.” THEY speak, the other hand holding you in place by the waist.

were you... not special? no, you were. you had to be, you strived to be. you were not only different, but you were something more. the many memories of victories against any that dared to go against you, do not betray you.

“herrscher,” you answer, but the words were met with another stream of liquid gold, giving you vitality and agony in one.

your body does however. you were numb, a mind blank with the instinct to live just enough. “you are no god,” it stings. the drowning doesn't seem to pain you as much anymore.

“but,” THEY release you. the gold on your skin slithered back to him. “you are... something.”

you inhale sharply, a flood of strength returning to your body and cracking sounds start to source from THEIR hands, and with a blink THEY release and distance THEMSELVES from you.

“humiliating.” you breathe, and breathe deep until it steadies. you won't allow this to happen again.

never again. the taste of humiliation and embarrassment overthrows the lingering tastes of the gold he made you drink. it makes you feel human again, a strong reminder of something you have long forgotten.

you straighten your back slowly. “i underestimated you to an extreme extent,” your veins glow in gold, your skin covered in the cracks of gold that marked itself from THEIR ministrations, and behind you is a large, dark gate, opening with a flood of a scarlet red misty haze seeps out, warm and welcoming, an invitation for a mental rest from this encounter.

but before that, you have to acknowledge THEM.

your gaze lowers, defeated, no, a soul most definitely destroyed. “thank you,” for being reminded of your former humanity. that power is neverending and especially the path of progress.

THEY don't say or do anything further.

the weak grovel. it is natural.

they plead, they weep and they will gnaw for a chance at any form of greatness. so.

why do you show a respect to destruction?

THEY could see the defeat that shrouded your tainted form, but you chose to display this. your torso tilted forwards to THEIR direction, head hung low that he familiarized among the weak.

but there was your gratitude. “i will ask this of you,” you kept your posture, but your body slowly starts to drift backwards into the gate, and he allows you. “i hope for you to show yourself to me again,” your head tilts up only, and you gaze at him, properly since meeting the aeon.

“i promise to entertain you better if you consider my hope.” the doors close, and the gate disappears into ashes, leaving no trace of your existence behind.

no more did the once unyielding presence announced itself to the cosmos. there was a still silence and silence attracts peace.

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐔𝐈𝐍 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑 detested the peace you left him. THEY will make sure the next time you present yourself, THEY will invade you in mind and body more effectively. the moment where you dream is where the gold seeps, waging war in your subconscious mind in most days of your rest.

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐔𝐈𝐍 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑 will not easily show themselves again, the inquisition of the many factions mortals have flocked themselves in have stirred. the small clash was impactful to them as expected, they persist on their insight of destruction, but THEY will never allow it, as sheeps do not think and sheeps do not fight.

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐔𝐈𝐍 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑 doesn't need to show THEMSELVES to you again. to consider it is something destructive and the destruction does something against THEM. it is invasive, but so was the gold that THEY carved into your flesh.

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐔𝐈𝐍 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑 had already selected a few to gaze upon, most were fragile and immediately disposed of, while three remained to be a promise of interest, and THEY will acknowledge you along with the trailblazing twins, sending wraiths and monsters in your path occasionally with a reminder that THEY will always be watching.

and the many curious gazes wasn't only limited to the path of destruction.

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