Evolto City had returned to... well, what could be called normal. The streets, once war-torn and scorched by Xerathian fire and titan footsteps, were now filled with laughter, drilling, reconstruction mechs, and the scent of food stalls serving victory meals.
Children rode tamed Orowyrms again. Street performers told tales of the Jaegers' final charge. Murals of Cavian, Zalthorion, Azura, and Marisov had already started appearing across districts some in reverence, some in bold neon graffiti.
But peace in Evolto is never just peace.
In one of the darker corners of the city, Dr. Wagner adjusted his goggles, surrounded by dissected Xerathian corpses, synthetic interface tendrils writhing across the floor.
"We lost fifty-seven Jaeger pilots," he muttered, activating preservation protocols. "Let's see if I can bring one back... or build something better."
Meanwhile, in a sleek apartment floating over the Garden Sector, Nyxia's house buzzed softly with the glow of a ridiculously large television.
Vidarath, currently in his whimsical personality, was sprawled on the couch beside Nyxia, eyes locked on the screen showing anime mecha battling even bigger kaiju.
"His TV is bigger than mine," Vidarath declared, arms crossed and pouting.
"You live in a pocket dimension castle, Vid," Nyxia replied, sipping from a teacup.
"Yes, and my TV is smaller," he said with full dramatic betrayal.
They both laughed tired, relieved, and still wearing yesterday's battle-scorched coats. For once, they let themselves be human.
Elsewhere, atop the Citadel Spire, Zalthorion Veilstryx sat behind his monolithic desk.
He flipped through documents, stamped clearances, adjusted timelines. Every flick of his pen redirected resources Jaeger frame repairs, daycare reconstruction grants, re-stabilization of Cerian Sun reactors.
His face was calm, composed, like a god delicately managing the remains of a civilization that just stared into the mouth of destruction.
Then
BANG.
The door exploded inward as a gust of cold wind swept through the chamber. Standing in the shattered threshold was a woman draped in void-colored robes, her eyes like twin dying stars, her hair like the midnight sky frozen in strands.
Her very presence silenced the room, killed the noise, and stilled the air.
She marched to Zalthorion's desk, fury barely restrained.
SLAM.
Her hand cracked the desk's edge as she snarled:
"Why the hell was there a newborn eldritch god screaming at the gates of my realm, Zalthorion?"
Zalthorion didn't look up immediately. He finished signing the document he was on.
Then he slowly met her gaze.
"Hello, Morgathe, Empress of the Dead. It's been a while."
The room pulsed with silence Zalthorion remained seated behind his now-cracked desk, and Morgathe, Empress of the Dead, towered over him like judgment itself. The flickering lights of the office dimmed slightly, shadows curling toward her presence like children seeking their mother.
Her voice, though controlled, burned cold:
"Multiple of my apprentices and two of my wardens were obliterated just to contain the eldritch backlash of that newborn god's death."
She stepped closer, aura pressing like a glacier on fire.
"We had a deal. I allow you to bind what dies unnaturally. In return, you inform me before you go executing things that scream across layers of the afterlife. So tell me, Zalthorion how are you going to pay me back?"
Zalthorion breathed and leaned forward slightly, fingers interlocked on the desk.
"You're right," he said, not defensive, regretful, but with steel underneath. "I broke protocol. I acted on instinct, on purpose... not on process."
His voice lowered, eyes now glowing faintly with golden force.
"But that thing wasn't supposed to exist. It told a genocidal race about this city—about our children. It compromised you as well. I chose to destroy it before it grew into something worse. I knew it would cost."
Morgathe's eyes narrowed, reading him for deceit. There was none. Just exhaustion... and an unshakable fire.
Still, she folded her arms.
"So? What's the price, then? Don't tell me you think 'sorry' and a signature will fix this."
Zalthorion stood, slowly his height finally matching hers, their presences clashing like twin stars.
"Name your price."
Her lips curled slightly, like a storm considering where to strike. Then, calmly:
"I want full access to the Nocturne Vaults for one cycle."
Zalthorion's face twitched.
"That's... bold. Those vaults contain sealed echoes, unstable memory fragments"
"And some of them were my people, trapped by your war with the Shardminds," she interrupted sharply. "I want to know what's left."
He stared a moment longer. Then nodded, slowly.
"Done. I'll grant you a conditional key. Only access—no removal, no unlocking sealed echoes without consent."
"Agreed."
The tension broke like glass under warm water. Morgathe's aura softened slightly no longer razors, but still cold. She turned away from the desk, cloak billowing like midnight smoke.
"Next time, inform me. I protect the after-realms. You guard the multiverse. We're not enemies but that line is thinner than you think."
As she reached the threshold, she paused.
"Oh, and Zalthorion… the next one you kill? If it screams into the soulstream again, I will bill you in corpses."
She vanished in a swirl of shadowed light.
Zalthorion exhaled and sat back down.
"Noted."
As Morgathe made her way toward the entrance of the Nocturne Vaults, a cold, resonating scream echoed through the halls. Before she could even fully turn her head, a small figure barreled toward her Marisov his energy practically bursting out of his tiny frame, followed by a loud giggle.
"Auntie Death! You're here!" he cried, a mix of excitement and pure childlike joy in his voice.
The impact was sudden and strong. Morgathe, taken by surprise, was knocked back several meters by the force of the hug, but her reflexes were sharp. She didn't fall, but staggered for a moment before catching her balance. Her eyes narrowed slightly, though they softened almost instantly as she looked down to see Marisov clinging to her, an infectious grin plastered across his face.
"You little rascal," she muttered under her breath, shaking her head with a smile she rarely let others see. "You did learn a thing or two from Zalthorion, didn't you?"
She bent down, lifting him off the ground effortlessly, her smile widening as he giggled even louder.
"How did you find me?" Morgathe asked, still holding him, her tone now less stern, more amused.
"Your aura was easy to follow," Marisov replied with a giggle, his voice light and playful. He wiggled slightly in her grip, clearly enjoying his aunt's company far more than the events surrounding them. "I'm really good at that, Auntie Death. Can you show me the vault? I want to see everything inside! Maybe I'll find a new pet!"
Morgathe chuckled softly at his enthusiasm. Her eyes softened as she looked at him, knowing that despite the strange circumstances and responsibilities, he still had the heart of a child, one who could bring a touch of light into even the darkest places.
"Your 'pet' might be more than you bargained for, little one," she said, walking toward the vault entrance, Marisov still cradled in her arms like a feathered child. "You know, sometimes even I find things in there that are best left undisturbed."
Marisov's eyes sparkled with intrigue, but he remained silent for the moment, simply enjoying the unusual moment. He didn't often get to spend time with Morgathe like this, and in a place like this, there was a rare warmth in their bond.
As they neared the heavy, ancient doors of the Nocturne Vaults, they began to hum faintly a sign of the secrets hidden within, secrets that had been locked away for centuries. Morgathe stood still for a moment, her thoughts racing, before she finally spoke again.
"You're going to have to be very careful in here, Marisov. These vaults don't just contain records of the dead, they hold echoes. And some of those echoes... they remember."
Marisov nodded solemnly, his playful attitude shifting momentarily. "I can handle it, Auntie. I promise."
With a final look at the vault door, Morgathe activated the unlocking mechanism, the giant stone entrance slowly parting to reveal the chilling yet fascinating interior.
Back in his dimly lit office deep within the command tower of Evolto City, Zalthorion was buried in documentation logistics reports, resource allocations, rebuilding timelines, political dispatches from the Corvo, and a stack of handwritten letters from children who had drawn pictures of Jaegers with crayon explosions. He had a soft smile as he read one aloud.
"'Dear Mr. Zalthorion, please make more robots. And also make them pink. Thank you.'"
He chuckled under his breath before setting the drawing aside. Then, the air shifted again.
The door already cracked and warped from Morgathe's earlier dramatic entrance, creaked open gently this time. It was Azura.
She walked in quietly, almost floating rather than stepping, the steam from the fresh cup of herbal tea in her hand forming patterns in the air as if whispering secrets.
"You've been working without pause again," she said in that calm, melodic tone that belied the eternal storms in her veins. "So I brought this."
Zalthorion accepted the tea without a word but gave a respectful nod. Azura had become something of a fixture in his late-day routines, bringing him tea when even the elite aides didn't dare interrupt. Their bond had grown not intimate, not overt but one forged in countless battles, shared responsibilities, and the quiet knowledge of what it meant to carry burdens too heavy for most.
He took a sip. The warmth eased the tension in his shoulders, if only slightly. Azura stood silently, hands behind her back, her expression unreadable, but her eyes locked onto him.
When he finished, she took the empty cup with careful grace.
And then… her entire demeanor shifted.
Azura turned around slowly with the cup still in hand, her fingers tightening around it as her eyes narrowed into slits. She stared at the rim where his lips had touched. Her usual graceful poise gave way to a slight shiver of pleasure.
"So warm..." she whispered under her breath, almost too quiet to be heard.
A strange grin tugged at her lips a glint in her eyes that hadn't been seen since before she began controlling her darker impulses. She licked her thumb and gently wiped the cup's rim, eyes half-lidded now with a glimmer of obsession.
Despite the peace after the war, the old yandere tendencies hadn't died they'd just slumbered. And now, even without violent outbursts or erratic behavior, Azura's intensity simmered just beneath the surface.
Still unaware, Zalthorion had returned to his paperwork, completely focused.
Azura, however, was already turning to leave, with the cup cradled as if it were priceless.
As the door creaked behind her, she whispered to herself:
"One step closer."
The massive obsidian doors of the Nocturne Vaults creaked open with a deep, reverberating groan that echoed through the Under-City like the whisper of ancient gods. Morgathe, still holding a squirming and giggling Marisov in her arms, stepped past the threshold. A cold, shadowy wind spilled out from within, carrying the scent of age-old parchment, starlight-burnt ink, and something vaguely metallic, like dried blood mixed with forgotten secrets.
"Stay close, little spark," Morgathe said, her voice calm but bearing an edge honed by aeons. "This is no place for children… even children like you."
Marisov gave a proud little puff of his chest. "I'm not scared. Besides, Uncle Zalthorion lets me see the Vault sometimes."
"He's always been too soft with you," she muttered with mock annoyance, though her arm never once loosened from its protective hold around him.
Inside, the Nocturne Vaults were like a cathedral carved into the bones of the world itself. Towering shelves of obsidian and silver spiraled upward and downward in impossible directions, defying normal physics. Lanterns that held bottled fragments of collapsed stars floated through the air, casting ghostly blue light over everything.
But it wasn't just scrolls or ancient artifacts.
They passed sealed containment orbs holding fragments of timelines that had been edited out of the multiverse. Tomes bound in dragonhide, scribed in languages no longer spoken. Weapons humming with sorrow, still bleeding the emotions of their last wielder. Armor forged in forgotten wars, left behind by beings too powerful to die but too dangerous to be remembered.
And then there were the drawings.
One wall had been claimed not by ancient kings or scholars but by Marisov himself. Crayon illustrations, childish but shockingly detailed, showing him, Zalthorion, Yariam, Auntie Cavian, and even Morgathe often with exaggerated swords, shields, or capes facing cartoon versions of terrifying monsters.
Morgathe paused in front of one where her own form stood atop a mountain of vanquished beasts, holding a scythe larger than a starship, while Marisov rode on her shoulder waving a banner that said "Team Death."
"...You're quite the artist," she said, tilting her head.
"Papa says every Vault needs a record keeper!" Marisov chirped. "So I make battle records with pictures!"
She actually smiled briefly, a ghost of expression but it was real.
Then her smile faded as they neared the deepest part of the Vault: a black vault door sealed with runes written in Primordial Entropy. Here were the things even Morgathe hesitated to touch. Eldritch cores, the teeth of dead Concepts, and the final breath of a dying timeline, sealed in a crystal phial.
She set Marisov down gently.
"Wait here."
"Okay!" he replied cheerfully, plopping down and pulling out a small, humming sketchpad that seemed to draw with his thoughts.
As Morgathe stepped forward, the vault door began to unlock with a sound like galaxies collapsing in reverse.
As the last of the runes dimmed, the obsidian door slowly parted, not outward or inward but unfolded, like space itself obeyed Morgathe's will. What lay beyond was not so much a chamber as a fracture in reality a realm suspended in stasis, where even time feared to tread.
The Vault of Severance.
No light touched this place. Instead, it was lit by the soft glow of memories turned physical, drifting in globes suspended midair. Voices echoed faintly recollections of final words, the silence before extinction, and the cries of forgotten gods.
Morgathe stepped inside, and immediately the temperature plummeted. Even her deathly aura, so potent it had turned entire battlefields to bone gardens, was dampened here.
She scanned the space. There were only seven items in this entire vault. Seven things that Zalthorion and Morgathe together agreed should never, ever be used not even as last resorts. Each was encased in its own time-locked vault-shard, impossible to access without the agreement of both.
But she wasn't here for the Seven.
Her eyes turned to a sealed altar at the center of the room a black obelisk wrapped in infinite chains, each forged in a separate multiversal plane, each pulsing with containment runes etched by the Primordials themselves. Floating above it was a pulsing heart of pure voidstuff, beating with hatred, sorrow, and betrayal.
The Heart of Nih'Shelen, the First Born Warden.
Once one of Death's own apprentices. Once a guardian of balance. Now, a rogue force, a creature of unmaking, whose whispers had inspired not one, but three multiversal collapses. The same being whose soul Morgathe had spent millennia recovering only to find it twisted beyond salvation.
She walked up to the edge of the barrier and stared into the voidlight of the heart.
"You taught me that death is a mercy. Then you chose to become the thing we swore to protect existence from."
The heart pulsed. Then a voice, not audible, but felt, echoed across her soul.
"You let him twist you, Morgathe. The angel who sleeps with the gods. The flame that binds titans. Zalthorion."
Morgathe's face remained unreadable. "He binds nothing. I walk beside him because I choose to."
The Heart beat faster. More violently. Chains trembled. A tendril of black light lashed at the edges of its cage.
"He'll betray you. As all gods do. Even the ones who drink tea."
She stepped forward and placed her hand on the barrier, her aura suffusing it. The chains steadied.
"You're not prophecy. You're a broken warden whispering madness. I didn't come here for your doom poems. I came to make sure you're still locked."
She turned to leave and paused.
Behind her, the voice grew quieter.
"When your star falls, don't look for salvation. Look for the one who draws with crayon and walks with titans. He's the storm they forgot to chain."
Morgathe blinked. Her gaze shifted briefly toward the vault entrance toward Marisov.
But she said nothing.
She walked out.
With Dr. Wagner
The sterile, dimly lit lab smelled of chemicals and something far less natural. Machines hummed rhythmically, filling the silence, but Dr. Dietrich Wagner's manic laugh echoed off the walls, reverberating through the very bones of his hidden laboratory beneath Evolto City. His hands, gloved in pristine white, hovered over the dissection table, where the remains of a Xerathian Leviathan lay sprawled. Its body, unnervingly human in some respects, yet disturbingly alien in others, twitched as if it was still alive.
"Ah, wunderbare!"(Ah, wonderful!) Dr. Wagner muttered in delight as he leaned in closer, adjusting the magnifying lenses of his goggles.
The Leviathan's body was a sight to behold its skin a mixture of organic carapace and flexible membrane, unlike anything Wagner had ever encountered. It seemed to vibrate with potential energy, and as he peeled back a layer of its exoskeletal armor, a cascade of holographic nanites flitted through the air micro-organisms that evolved faster than any living creature known to man. They were capable of rapidly adjusting the Leviathan's immune system to adapt to threats. Even in its death, the creature was evolving.
"Seht es euch an!"(Look at it!) Wagner said, eyes wide with the excitement of someone witnessing history. "Die Art, wie dieser Organismus seine Evolution so schnell anpasst es ist ein biologisches Wunder!"(The way this organism adapts its evolution so quickly it's a biological wonder!)
He gestured wildly at the data streaming from a nearby monitor. Numbers, equations, and abstract genetic markers were dancing across the screen like an abstract piece of art. To most, it would be gibberish, but to Wagner, it was the map to a new frontier of life.
"Es ist fast, als ob der Leviathan die Gesetze der Biologie selbst umgeht! Wenn er einem feindlichen Angriff ausgesetzt wird, beginnt er sofort, eine Antwort zu entwickeln, um sich anzupassen. Selbst die Immunantwort ist sofort aktiv. Nur durch einen gezielten, stabilen Eingriff kann man ihn verlangsamen."(It's almost as if the Leviathan bypasses the laws of biology itself! When exposed to a hostile attack, it begins immediately to develop a counter-response. Even the immune response activates instantly. Only through a targeted, stabilized intervention can one slow it down.)
He grabbed a scalpel and delicately pried open a section of the creature's ribcage, revealing an incredibly dense cluster of bioelectric organs each one capable of firing off bioelectric pulses like an organic EMP. The creature had adapted this defense in response to the high-tech weaponry of Evolto City.
"Und diese biotechnischen Organe sind der wahre wahnsinn. Es ist fast, als ob sie … als ob sie eine Technologie entwickelt haben, die nicht von dieser Welt ist!"(And these biotechnical organs are truly insane. It's almost as if they... as if they developed a technology not of this world!) Wagner muttered, his voice slipping into near delirium as he ran his fingers over the exposed nerve clusters.
He pulled back, suddenly overcome with manic energy. He whirled around to face the nearest assistant, his eyes blazing with the intensity of a man obsessed.
"Sehen Sie das? Diese Xerathianer haben sich selbst erschaffen! Sie haben eine Technologie entwickelt, die ihre eigene Biologie überwacht und anpasst. Sie sind praktisch selbstständige Maschinen! Sie haben sich an die Evolution des Multiversums angepasst und nutzen nun organische Technologie als Waffe!"(Do you see it? These Xerathians created themselves! They developed a technology that monitors and adapts their own biology. They are practically self-sustaining machines! They've adapted to the evolution of the multiverse and now use organic technology as a weapon!)
He turned back to the Leviathan's body, caressing the still-beating bio-synthetic heart with a reverence that bordered on obsession.
"Es ist ein perfektes Beispiel für die Symbiose von organischem Leben und technologischer Evolution. Die Energiequelle dieser Wesen ist direkt in ihren Genen integriert! Keine Notwendigkeit für externe Maschinen, nur eine innere Biotechnologie, die ständig ihre Fähigkeiten verändert!"(It's a perfect example of the symbiosis between organic life and technological evolution. The energy source of these beings is directly integrated into their genes! No need for external machinery, just an internal biotechnology constantly changing its abilities!)
Wagner paced back and forth, eyes darting between his notes and the dissection table.
"Diese Wesen haben die biologische Replikation perfektioniert. Sie haben sich nicht nur an das Umfeld angepasst, sondern ihre Biologie umprogrammiert, um mit den Herausforderungen zu wachsen!"(These beings have perfected biological replication. They didn't just adapt to the environment; they rewrote their biology to grow with the challenges!)
His hands trembled as he pulled up a new screen, showing detailed sequences of Xerathian genetic manipulation the blueprints for their rapid evolution. The Xerathians used a biological "virus" to evolve their kind, allowing them to generate entirely new organs and systems on the fly, crafting each one to meet the needs of their immediate environment or combat requirements.
"Es ist fast wie der Prozess der natürlichen Selektion...aber übertrieben. Die Xerathianer haben einen adaptiven Code entwickelt, der ihnen erlaubt, sich unter extremen Bedingungen zu verändern."(It's almost like the process of natural selection...but exaggerated. The Xerathians developed an adaptive code that allows them to change under extreme conditions.)
Wagner stopped, turning toward the nearest test subject a Xerathian foot soldier whose body was preserved in a stasis pod. He approached it with the same reverence, scanning the readings.
"Und hier... der perfekte Soldat. Kein Mangel an Stärke oder Geschwindigkeit. Alles wird durch den adaptiven Code optimiert."(And here... the perfect soldier. No lack of strength or speed. Everything is optimized through the adaptive code.)
He stepped back and folded his arms, looking over the creature with a gleam in his eye.
"Diese Wesen sind die Zukunft der Kriegsführung."(These beings are the future of warfare.)
Suddenly, he paused, blinking in realization, before grinning to himself.
"Oder vielleicht… ICH bin die Zukunft."(Or maybe… I AM the future.)
His voice was a whisper at the last word, his eyes filled with a dangerous brilliance as his mind began to race with possibilities possibilities he would soon make reality.
Dr. Wagner stood over the Leviathan's dissection table, his fingers trembling with excitement as the data poured in from the various machines surrounding him. He spoke to no one in particular, muttering his theories in German with a feverish energy. His mind raced, each new discovery feeding his obsession like an inferno.
"Es ist unglaublich... Diese biologische Technologie hat das Potenzial, die gesamte Grundlage der Kriegsführung zu revolutionieren."(It's unbelievable... This biological technology has the potential to revolutionize the very foundation of warfare.)
He paced back and forth, muttering to himself, barely noticing the assistants who had begun to file into the lab, their faces filled with concern. They had seen this kind of behavior before the manic excitement that marked Wagner's moments of breakthrough. But there was something different about today. Something darker.
"Die Xerathianer haben den Krieg neu definiert, aber nicht mit Maschinen. Sie haben den Körper selbst als die ultimative Waffe genutzt."(The Xerathians have redefined war, but not with machines. They have used the body itself as the ultimate weapon.)
The assistants exchanged uneasy glances as Wagner's voice grew louder, more frantic. They were no longer sure whether he was speaking to them or to himself.
"Ich werde das alles perfektionieren. Ich werde den menschlichen Körper so umprogrammieren, dass er so effizient ist wie diese... diese Wesen!"(I will perfect all of this. I will reprogram the human body to be as efficient as these... these beings!)
One of the assistants stepped forward hesitantly, his voice shaking. "Doctor, are you suggesting we should…?"
Wagner cut him off with a sharp glance, his eyes wild. "Was? Nein! Ich schlage nicht vor, dass wir Menschen so werden. Aber stellen Sie sich vor, was möglich wäre. Ein Individuum, das sich an jede Bedrohung anpasst, das niemals geschlagen werden kann."(What? No! I'm not suggesting we turn humans into that. But imagine what could be possible. An individual who adapts to every threat, who can never be beaten.)
He grabbed a data pad from the table, pulling up images of Xerathian foot soldiers and Leviathan warriors. Their bodies were designed for warfare resilient, adaptable, and brutal in their efficiency.
"Stellen Sie sich eine Armee vor, die niemals aufhört, sich zu verbessern. Keiner ist mehr auf seine ursprünglichen Fähigkeiten beschränkt. Jeder Soldat, jeder Krieger würde die perfekte Antwort auf jeden Feind haben."(Imagine an army that never stops improving. No one is limited by their original abilities. Every soldier, every warrior would have the perfect response to every enemy.)
His hands trembled as he activated the stasis pod containing the foot soldier. The body stirred, responding to the stimuli from the machines, and a low, unnatural growl emanated from the creature's throat.
"Es ist nur eine Frage der Zeit, bis ich das adaptivste Organismusdesign erschaffe."(It's only a matter of time before I create the most adaptive organism design.)
Wagner's mind shifted. He began to think about possibilities beyond warfare beyond what the Xerathians could do. His voice softened, almost hypnotic as he contemplated the future.
"Ich könnte die ultimative Waffe erschaffen. Ein Wesen, das sich nicht nur anpasst, sondern die Zukunft vorhersieht. Eine Lebensform, die alle feindlichen Möglichkeiten erkennt und im Voraus darauf reagiert."(I could create the ultimate weapon. A being that not only adapts, but predicts the future. A lifeform that recognizes all enemy possibilities and reacts in advance.)
As Wagner stood there, lost in his thoughts, one of the assistants spoke up, now visibly concerned.
"Doctor, the tests are showing abnormal readings. The Xerathian biology is far beyond anything we've encountered. We might be pushing the limits of what's safe."
Wagner's eyes snapped back to the assistant, his expression darkening. "Wahrscheinlich. Aber das ist, was Fortschritt ist. Sicher ist nicht genug. Der menschliche Körper ist in seiner jetzigen Form unvollständig. Ich werde ihn perfektionieren!"(Probably. But that's what progress is. Safe isn't enough. The human body is incomplete in its current form. I will perfect it!)
He turned to the table, grabbing a scalpel with trembling hands. The excitement had reached its peak, and Wagner was no longer thinking about what was right or wrong. He was thinking only about the potential.
"Es gibt keine Begrenzung mehr. Ich werde einen neuen Typus von Soldaten erschaffen. Einen, der an den Xerathianern vorbei die wahre Kraft des Lebens zeigen wird."(There are no limits now. I will create a new type of soldier. One who will surpass the Xerathians and show the true power of life.)
Just then, a loud clank echoed through the lab as one of the containers began to malfunction, a bright red light flashing in warning. The air hummed with tension, and for the first time, the assistants dared to question whether Wagner's ambitions had gone too far.
But Wagner was too far gone, his gaze fixed on the creature before him, already planning the next phase of his twisted experiments.
"Es gibt keine Ausflüchte. Kein Zurück mehr. Ich werde diese biologische Waffe erschaffen, und sie wird die Menschheit in eine neue Ära führen."(There are no excuses. No turning back. I will create this biological weapon, and it will lead humanity into a new era.)
The assistants began to exchange fearful looks, but none dared interrupt. They had all seen this before the blind passion, the obsession with perfection. This time, though, they weren't sure if it would stop.
And in the midst of it all, Wagner was already moving toward the next phase, a man consumed by his vision of evolution.
With Nyxia and Vidarath
Nyxia and Vidarath sat comfortably on the couch, surrounded by empty snack bowls and scattered wrappers. The room was dimly lit, the soft glow from the TV screen casting eerie shadows on the walls. The two were so engrossed in the latest episode of their anime binge that they barely noticed the passage of time.
Nyxia leaned forward, his eyes wide with excitement as the characters on the screen went head-to-head in an intense battle. His usual calm demeanor was completely replaced by pure, unrestrained enthusiasm.
"This is it!" Nyxia shouted, grinning like a kid on Christmas morning. "I can't believe they're finally facing off! This is going to be the best fight scene of the series!"
Vidarath, on the other hand, was bouncing on the couch, his usual playful demeanor magnified by the excitement. "I KNOW! The animation, the power-ups! It's all too much!" He clutched his head, completely overwhelmed by the energy on-screen. "I'm gonna explode!"
The anime they were watching was "Shingeki no Kyojin: Attack on Titan"—the episode where the titans were in full battle mode, and the main character, Eren Yeager, was in his final titan form, tearing through enemies with an intensity that matched the ferocity of a warzone. The epic scale of the battle, the booming soundtrack, and the raw emotion in each punch and kick had both of them hooked.
"Look at that shot! Look at the fight choreography! That titan's moves are so clean!" Nyxia pointed at the screen as the colossal titan's fist swung with destructive power. "This is what I've been talking about! This is what I was meant to see!"
Vidarath, his voice high-pitched with excitement, nearly knocked over the bowl of popcorn. "YES! This is it! This is what a true battle looks like! Why can't we have battles like this every day? I feel like I'm going to fight the air, just because of this!"
The scene on the screen reached its climax, and Eren's titan form collided with the opposing titan in a spectacular explosion of energy, sending shockwaves through the battlefield. The visuals were mesmerizing, and the sound design amplified every moment, making the impact feel visceral and real.
Vidarath grabbed Nyxia by the shoulders, his eyes wide as if he had just witnessed the greatest thing ever. "Did you see that!? Eren's punch boom it was like an earthquake!"
Nyxia, equally hyped, looked like he was about to burst. "I can't even... That was the punch of the century! No one can top that!"
The two looked at each other for a moment before simultaneously jumping up from the couch, as if the raw excitement in their bodies couldn't be contained. Vidarath started mimicking Eren's titan form, throwing invisible punches at the air, while Nyxia began reenacting the battle moves, kicking and spinning with surprising agility for his size.
"If I had powers like that, I'd never stop fighting! Just imagine the battles!" Vidarath laughed, his voice full of glee.
Nyxia grinned mischievously, his eyes shining with excitement. "And I would totally beat you. You'd never stand a chance."
Vidarath immediately stopped and faced Nyxia, his expression serious as he crossed his arms. "Oh, really? I'd like to see you try!"
The two laughed, then collapsed back onto the couch, still hyped from the fight.
"But seriously," Nyxia said, finally catching his breath, "Eren's transformation was insane. You know, it's one thing to talk about power and raw strength, but it's a whole other thing to feel it in an anime. It makes me want to train... or maybe just fight titans."
Vidarath waved his hand dramatically in front of his face. "Who cares about titans? I want a fight where the stakes are so high it could shatter the universe. Like a battle against gods or something!"
Nyxia's eyes gleamed. "Now, that's something worth watching."
Vidarath nodded sagely. "We should write our own anime. A battle between gods, demons, titans, and creatures from other dimensions! I call dibs on the coolest character, though!"
Nyxia smirked. "Fine, but I'm the one who gets the biggest punch. The one that breaks reality."
The TV continued to play the aftermath of the fight scene, but neither of them were paying attention anymore. Their minds were already lost in the idea of creating their own over-the-top, reality-breaking anime, full of wild battles and limitless powers.
As the final credits rolled, Nyxia stretched and looked at Vidarath with a grin. "So... what's next? More anime?"
Vidarath threw his hands in the air, already reaching for the remote. "YES! Next episode, let's see what else the world has to offer!"
The two settled in for another round of anime madness, ready to dive into whatever action-packed universe awaited them next.
The TV flickered as the opening credits for another anime started rolling. This time, it was "Dragon Ball Z: Super" the ongoing saga of Goku and his friends fighting against the strongest foes in the universe.
Vidarath slammed his hand down on the couch, eyes wide. "YES! This one's gonna be epic! I mean, come on—who doesn't love a good energy blast and super-powered fights?!"
Nyxia leaned back into the cushions with a smug grin. "You know, I was never a fan of Goku at first, but after seeing the way his power-ups keep escalating, I think he's grown on me. There's something... inspiring about it."
Vidarath immediately leaned forward, his face lighting up with his characteristic excitement. "You know what I love about Dragon Ball? The epicness of it! It's always about pushing the limits, evolving, and going beyond the impossible!" He gestured toward the TV as Goku began his training montage. "It's like every time you think he's reached his limit, BOOM—he's got a new transformation!"
Nyxia nodded thoughtfully, eyes glinting with the thrill of the show. "Yeah, but... sometimes I wonder how they keep topping themselves. The last power-up was huge—now we have Super Saiyan Blue and Ultra Instinct... what comes next? Super Saiyan God Ultra Master?"
Vidarath laughed so hard he nearly fell off the couch. "Super Saiyan God Ultra Master—YES! Now THAT is a transformation I could get behind!"
The battle began, and both of them were glued to the screen, completely immersed. They could barely keep still as the fight scenes unfolded with explosive energy. Vidarath, naturally, was the first to jump up again, throwing punches at invisible enemies.
"This is where I would come in," Vidarath said dramatically, striking a ridiculous pose, pretending to be a fighter in the show. "I'd be the unpredictable wildcard—the one who can't be defeated because I refuse to quit!"
Nyxia, amused, rolled his eyes. "Of course you would. I can see it now—Vidarath, the unstoppable, ever-energetic wildcard. You're a character alright."
Vidarath winked at him. "Exactly! But I'd need a signature move, of course. Something like... I don't know, Reality Warp Punch or something!"
Nyxia tilted his head, raising an eyebrow. "A punch that warps reality? Okay, I'm intrigued. I could get behind that... if it makes for a cool battle scene."
They were halfway through the episode, completely caught up in the high-energy showdown, when suddenly, Nyxia paused the TV. His sudden movement caught Vidarath off guard.
"What are you doing?" Vidarath asked, his voice dropping from excitement to confusion.
Nyxia grinned, tapping his chin thoughtfully. "I've been thinking about this idea for a while now... What if we created our own battle anime? Not just any anime, though. One that's unpredictable, chaotic, and completely unhinged!"
Vidarath's eyes widened. "I love the sound of that! But what do you mean by 'unhinged'? Like, everything goes?!"
Nyxia leaned in closer, his voice growing more serious, his expression gleaming with an unusual intensity. "What if we made it so that the battles could change reality itself? One minute, the fight takes place in the desert, the next, they're fighting in the middle of a collapsing dimension. One minute, characters are fighting with energy blasts, the next, they're manipulating time and space."
Vidarath bounced in his seat, clearly enamored with the idea. "I LOVE it! No rules, no limits. Just pure chaos and cool explosions!"
Nyxia laughed. "Exactly. Imagine the characters each with a different power, all completely unpredictable. Like a guy who can bend time, another who can manipulate gravity, and another who can... phase in and out of existence at will."
Vidarath nodded enthusiastically. "Oh, and don't forget the character who's invincible for no reason at all!" He clutched his chest dramatically. "They'll be the one who says stuff like 'I can't be defeated!' while everything around them falls apart!"
The two looked at each other and burst into laughter, both envisioning a chaotic, over-the-top anime that was a perfect blend of everything they loved unpredictable, high-stakes battles, and outlandish power-ups.
"We'd need a good villain too," Nyxia mused. "Someone who constantly challenges the heroes, but in a way that makes you question if they're actually the hero of their own story."
Vidarath's grin widened. "A villain with a tragic backstory, of course! Someone who's trying to save the world, but ends up doing more harm than good!"
Nyxia gave him a pointed look. "That sounds a little familiar."
Vidarath gave a nonchalant shrug. "Hey, I'm just drawing inspiration from the best! Besides, even heroes need a little darkness to keep things interesting."
The two continued bouncing ideas off each other, completely lost in the process of creating their own perfect battle anime. Time seemed to pass without them noticing until the screen flickered once again, signaling the next episode.
"Next one!" Vidarath yelled, his voice filled with glee.
Nyxia gave him a sidelong glance. "I'm still thinking about our anime. We need to start working on the script."
Vidarath waved it off with a grin. "We'll get to that after one more episode, alright? We can't leave our research unfinished!"
And so, they continued their binge-watching, their minds running wild with ideas for a new, unpredictable world of their own creation, fueled by the power of anime.