Chapter Five: Transcendent Desert Creature


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There was little time for thought and barely more for action. Mount Lady strode quickly through the city, making turns at intersections seemingly at random. She had to create distance between these monsters and the boy inside of the shell held close to her breast. It was heavy and awkwardly shaped. Its sharp pointed spines threatened to tear into her uniform and skin, and its twisted geometry was cumbersome to heft as she ran, even without the risk of injury adding further complications. And then, of course, she was exposing herself to dangerous amounts of radiation, far more than their plan would have originally exposed her to. She was acutely aware that she had a time limit of holding this thing before her risk of cancer within the next decade would skyrocket. She knew that the next wave of heroic reinforcements was due to arrive soon. If she could just keep the shell away long enough, then they had a chance to salvage this situation. She simply hoped that they would get here before this thing did serious long-term damage to her health, or before these monsters caught up to her.

These things, devas she supposed they called themselves, were tenacious and dangerous. They continued to appear now and then though in smaller numbers than before. Hopefully there was a hard limit to how many there were. Were these monstrous beasts part of Sondok's Quirk? They all were remarkably similar to each other, including their armaments. Again, she had to jump as one appeared in her path. As she took to the air over it's head it reached for her and grabbed onto her ankle. She had to stop long enough to kick it into a nearby building before continuing her run through the city. This went against everything she had trained for and fought for in her more than a decade long career of professional heroism. Leaving swarms of enemies behind her left the civilian population vulnerable. They were practically handing hostages to the enemy.

But after overhearing Sondok and All Might through the communication system, she knew that under no circumstances could the enemy be allowed to have what was in her possession. She had trained and accepted that she might die on the job someday, but now it occurred to her that things were bad enough that they were forced to pick and choose how many civilians were acceptable to put at risk. It was a jaw clenching and terrible thought.

A good portion of the dialogue flew over her head, primarily due to the fact that she was in active combat against these things at the time. But it was quite clear to all the heroes on the system and their support teams that these were villains from another world, and they were here to turn the boy she was holding into a weapon. On its face that statement sounded ludicrous, like something from a bad science fiction show. Yet here she was playing a dangerous game of tag to keep the shell trapped boy away from these creatures.

And if that wasn't enough to worry about, there was the brain wracking thought of just how to get the boy out of this monstrous shell, or chrysalis as the alien woman had called it. She saw All Might hit the thing with an amazing amount of force, enough to launch it towards her. Absorbing that force and catching it was a particularly taxing experience. Yet in the several minutes she had been running since she still had not detected a single scratch or crack on the surface of the conch like metal structure. She was just thankful the thing wasn't causing any explosions while she was carrying it.

But there was no time to consider any of that now. Another squadron of the beasts had appeared in front of her. With the others behind her, she was effectively pinned in place and without any backup. "Shit." She mumbled to herself. This was about to get ugly.

She hoped the kid inside would be grateful. She had no idea what he was going through in there, or if he was even aware of how much was going on around him. She certainly could not know that at that moment Midoriya Izuku was dreaming of mad Primordials and worlds wrought by their nightmares.


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Izuku found himself alone in a vast wasteland expanse with nothing but silver sand around him as far as the eye could see. High up in the dull brown skies above him was a sight unlike anything he could fathom; he shielded his eyes from a harsh Green Sun that beat down on him ceaselessly with dry hot fury. He cast his gaze in all directions, but he did not find any signs of anyone else or even a clue about how he got here. There were no footprints leading to where he stood. His skin felt unbearably hot under the Sun's rays, and the sand gathered below his feet seemed to reflect that heat back up at him. It was like this terrible place was trying to cook him alive.

It was too hot, and he was too thirsty for him to process his thoughts. He tried to remember how he got here. He remembered the lavender skinned woman Ahalmahlhat. That was a name that would be burned into his memory for the rest of his life. She had saved his life, gave him his first kiss… He tried to remember past that and realized so much had happened so quickly that he wasn't sure what else they had… done together.

He knew he had lost most of his clothing to her sharp touch which made his currently nude state less shocking. And at the moment he was too hot and thirsty and alone to feel embarrassed. He would worry about all that later when he saw her again. He had to see her again. But first he had to survive this place. He climbed up the tallest sand dune he could get to rather than choose a direction from where he already stood.

As he turned once more at the dune's apex to survey his surroundings, he was dismayed to find that his footsteps were already gone. He felt no wind to explain the movement of the sands, nor did he feel them shift so fluidly as he made his climb. It had behaved as he expected and gave way for his feet, surrounding each bare foot in blistering hot desert sand. He had no rational explanation why each dent he had made in the side of the dune would be gone. It occurred to him that if he died out here there would be nothing but a pristine desert on the surface and a well-hidden corpse somewhere below.

To his surprise his scan of the horizon revealed an abrupt change. A tall figure in desert robes stood on a dune not far from the one he stood on. Although the distance was not that far he could only hazily make out the figure as heat caused the air itself to shimmer, obscuring his vision. He trudged through the sands towards the figure ahead, shifting his vision from his footing towards the figure itself. He was afraid that at any moment they would disappear as though a mirage. Whether driven purely by survival instinct or loneliness he could not tell, but he was pulled forward by urges from deep within.

As he got closer, he was blessedly in the shade of the figure. Looking up at her he could make out the outline of a feminine shape, yet his ability to make out details was obscured by the halo effect of the glaring sun behind her and the dark contrast of her shadow. But one thing was clear: she was gigantic. He looked up at her from lower on the dune than she stood, but even with that perspective considered the robed woman had to be at least eight feet tall. She was broad enough to remain proportional to her height, yet even with that much mass her robes fluttering in the wind gave her an insubstantial quality, as if a hard gust would cast her about like sand on the surface of the desert.

"Welcome, Izuku of House Midoriya." Her voice was strong. It seemed to echo across the endless dunes. She knelt down to extend a hand to him to help him up the last few steps to the top of the dune where she stood. "I am Cecelyne, or rather I am part of Cecelyne."

His hand was dwarfed by hers. He felt infinitely small next to her. "It's good to meet you, ma'am." He scrambled up next to her and then saw her for what she was. This was not a human figure in front of him. The billowing robes were nothing more than sand held together by wisps of light and air. And inside of them was a body of sand loosely compacted around a pillar of salt. The face that looked out at him was molded with great art but it was a lifeless sand sculpture with unmoving lips and eyes.

She directed his gaze outward as she gestured across the vast desert. "Behold Cecelyne, the Endless Desert… the eternal plain of existence that interconnects all worlds." And as he allowed his eyes to follow her hands out to the desert, he felt dizzy. The horizon seemed to peel backwards away from his vision as more desert rose in the background on a ceaselessly flat and desolate landscape. It went on and on until his eyes begged him to stop, to clamp shut and turn away from the madness that is forever.

And yet on some strange instinctive level he knew that he could not turn away. Instead his eyesight deepened. And with alarm he realized that he was not looking at one desert but an endless pool of worlds. The stars and planets arrayed themselves before him in infinite combinations and each was compacted down into nothing more than a grain of silver sand just for the sake of his sanity. He was not walking on the sands of a desert but among endless grains of existence. It was then that he understood the terrifying truth… Cecelyne was not a Quirk user… she was the multiverse itself.

Fear gripped him deep in his heart. He was not on Earth. He had no idea how he got here. And he was standing next to… and on… a gigantic being far beyond his own limited comprehension. She stood next to him, yet she was everywhere he looked. She was composed of all the grains of sand that were not grains but entire worlds… and yet these worlds were not her nor were they a part of her. "How… how do I know you as much as I do… when I have never heard of you before?" He trembled as he spoke, shivering in spite of the heat.

She cast open her robes to indulge him in even more shade. "You know me because it is in your nature to know me. All things we have wrought know us. We are the Creators, my siblings and me. And you Izuku of House Midoriya… you have been Chosen to carry our power back to your world. But come…" She held open the palm of her hand and somehow though it was made of sand it was a singular and solid mass with identifiable muscle and skin. It was eerily more lifelike than her face.

In her outstretched palm was a single grain of sand. And this one tiny speck held more wonder and more awe for Izuku than anything he had ever seen in his life. It sang to a deep part of his soul and he knew it better than anything he had ever known before. "You may hold it if you like." She spoke to him.

He gazed up into her lifeless face. There was an unmoving mouth, a nose with indentations where nostrils should have been, and most disturbing of all there were three eyes carved into that face. One was set at the dead center of her forehead. And it was the only thing on her face that seemed to have life. It watched him, ceaseless and unblinking, but he knew it watched him far better than the other two decorative eyes for her mask of sand. "Please." He held out his palm.

Cecelyne placed the grain in his hand every so gently. And upon that touch Izuku knew without any doubt that he was holding the grain that contained the world of his own birth. This wasn't just a speck of sand in a desert. This was the universe he came from. And inside of it somewhere was the Milky Way… Earth… Japan… Musutafu… and somewhere in there was his mother. It was beautiful and frightening all at once. And just as he was about to ask her something the question left his mind. She reached forward and with the briefest touch of her finger the world in his hand rejoined with her. There it would remain forever to become just another grain of sand in the vast unending body of Cecelyne.

He inhaled deeply. He wasn't aware that he had been holding his breath. He was so utterly captivated in the beauty of holding the world that he felt a deep loss now that the moment was over. Yet this was the only ending he could think of for that exquisite moment, that the world would rejoin countless others in Her endless perfection. He knew her on a deep instinctive level. He knew without a doubt he was in the presence of a divine being.

She ushered him forward and he saw dunes pull back away from them, like great bodies turning in their sleep beneath sheets of sand. He watched as water crept up from a spring that had not been there before, and small desert shrubs and cacti quickly emerged along the shore of this brand new yet minuscule pond.

He was dying of thirst, yet everything in him told him not to drink. Could this be an illusion? Was he going mad? Or worse, was this some kind of test? Finally, he and his desperation settled on just asking. "Lady Cecelyne… may I drink from your oasis?"

She knelt down next to him so that her lifeless face could stare directly into his eyes. "Satisfy my curiosity, young man. Only then you may drink deep of the water I am loathe to part with… and of my power."


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Aizawa rushed to All Might's side. He swallowed down his own internal panic and sped past two hulking apelike brutes. He didn't want to consider how this day could get any worse, and reminded himself that more reinforcements were on the way. But even as he reached out with one of his binding scarfs to grab onto All Might's bleeding arm, he was acutely aware of how vulnerable the move made both of them. They were now tethered together against an enemy who had proven herself more than capable of injuring All Might far worse than any foe before her had done… or at least, worse than any before her while remaining unharmed herself. He worried that the reinforcements would not be enough to take her on.

All Might spared him a sideways glance and a smirk. If his confidence had diminished from his injury, he didn't allow it to show. Eraserhead somehow knew that All Might instinctively sent a signal to his missing hand to give a thumbs up. It was after all his dominant hand that was missing. He even continued to hold that arm forward rather than guarding it behind his left fist. What a pair they made in that moment. All Might with his missing hand and Eraserhead with a useless Quirk, both tied together in a desperate bid to halt All Might's bleeding.

It would be heartwarming and inspiring to say the two of them took a powerful stand against Sondok, and that they refused to give her an inch of ground. Certainly, that was their intention. But the odds were staunchly against them. When she moved towards them with her sword at the ready they were caught flat footed. Their eyes failed to keep up with her rapid movements. If not for their years of training and experience they certainly would have died.

Three rapid fire explosions at point black range knocked them off balance as she closed the distance towards them. The only positive side effect from that was that one of the blasts severed the binding between them, allowing them both more freedom to move. Unfortunately, one of the blasts caught Aizawa in the face, utterly destroying his visor and setting his hair on fire. The shrapnel from the blast embedded itself in a number of small cuts in his forehead, left cheek, and shoulder.

But those injuries and the concussive force of those explosions merely served as cover for Sondok as she bore down on them with blindingly fast slices from her sword. Neither All Might nor Eraserhead were foolhardy enough to attempt a block or parry but instead dodged away from her again and again. Her striking range put them both at a severe disadvantage, but Aizawa eventually found a desperate opening.

She smiled at him when he used his remaining scarf to bind the hand that held her sword. That one pause of motion provided just enough time for All Might to land a solid left hook to her face, launching her back towards the edge of the roof. She never let go of her sword, and in the process of being launched by that punch pulled Aizawa with her towards the edge. The sheer wind effect from the momentum put the fire in his hair out, but he now had to contend with being airborne and out of control of his own movement.

Time seemed to slow down as he looked down towards his inevitable landing. She was already there and was ready for him. All Might was moving rapidly towards them but already Aizawa could tell it would be just one moment too late. He was falling towards her and she was faster than either one of them. He briefly spared a thought to his students, wondering who would take over his classes for their sake.

It was at that moment that Endeavor made impact into the roof like a missile from afar. The force of his landing pushed Aizawa aside even as it burned his scarf to shreds. As Aizawa rolled with his landing, more heroes joined them on the roof. With Endeavor in the lead and All Might standing beside him, Sondok was surrounded.

She did not seem disturbed by this in the slightest. In fact, other than a trickle of blood on her lip, there was no sign that this battle concerned her at all. She tore the binding Aizawa had placed on her sword hand, but still her axe hung on her opposite hip. Her cloud of wispy black hair seemed to waver and shimmer. It extended behind her and from that cloud an ephemeral creature emerged.

It appeared to be a large wolf made of dust and smoke. As it strode to her side it grew more solid, but never quite complete. The skin seemed to shift and morph like smoke, at times revealing bones and muscles of equally ephemeral substance. Just when the heroes braced themselves for this new arrival, it sprinted away with nothing but a gesture from her. It ran and leapt from rooftop to rooftop. It ran in the direction of Mount Lady.

Only then did Aizawa realize that most of her soldiers were gone. She had chosen to stay behind to stall them while her soldiers and now her… dog… chased down Mount Lady. Did any of the others notice? Did Endeavor? All Might? All that he knew was that he had to get over there to her. His suspicion of the situation was all but confirmed when the monstrous woman goaded them all on. "Don't keep me waiting heroes." She taunted them with the calmness one might use to order tea.

And like moths to a flame they charged at her.


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Dunes retreated as pyramid temples took their place. Row upon row of sunlit temple steps, murals of scenes he barely had enough time to take in, and text in languages long forgotten filled his vision. As a kaleidoscopic vision of architecture filled his mind all Izuku could say was "What would you like to know?"

Thankfully nothing of the changing scenery disrupted the small oasis in front of him. "Tell me of your ambition to be a hero… why is it that you seek this goal so ardently?"

He turned his vision away from the oasis and from the myriad of temples arrayed before them. Turning to look into her three haunting eyes he spoke clearly. "I want to save people with a smile. I want to make their lives better. I want to rescue them from disasters… from villains… from any loss within my power to prevent."

She placed a hollow lifeless hand on his shoulder. If the gesture was meant to transmit comfort he could not say. "So, at the root of your desire is a need to save others… to help others? Yes?"

Without hesitation he responded. "Yes, that's right."

She gestured outward again, and he saw a multitude of petitioners at each temple, all of them praying. Some made sacrifices, others merely prostrated or got on their knees. "Tell me, what is the best way to serve the great mass of people you wish to save? What method will let you save the greatest number of them from harm?"

He stumbled on his words. His instinct told him that it was to be a hero, but immediately his analytical mind rejected that answer. A hero could not save everyone. They could only save those they were aware of, and even then, only if they got there on time. For every report of a hero saving the day, he knew there were many tragedies where no one was there to prevent a terrible tragedy, or to stop a villain from getting away with murder or worse. "I… don't know." He feared he had failed his test.

"Admitting your own failings is the root of all wisdom, young Izuku. Fear not." His eyes were drawn to the one at the center of her forehead. Making eye contact with her was taxing for him in a way he could not explain. "You will find that the best way to serve the largest number… to save the many and to repudiate those who would bring them harm… is to rule."

To rule? To be a king? That wasn't his ambition or his vision. He didn't see himself sitting on some throne and making proclamations but actually on the front lines of a disaster making things right with his own hands. "I'm sure that answer is true for some but… I'm not sure if it is true for me…"

The lifeless mask tilted. The expression did not change, yet somehow this odd movement conveyed emotion to it. Was it amusement? Anger? "Then let's test your answer… your ambition." With a soft push she turned Izuku away from the oasis and the temples and directed him to gaze back in the direction he had come from. There silver sands stretched onward forever, featureless save for variance in the size and shape of the dunes.

"If you wander the desert before you… then instead of you as our shared champion I will raise up five heroes and imbue them with my own fathomless power. You will wander and die, never confirming what has become of those you love or the world you call home. You will die knowing that I in my wisdom chose five champions for your world instead of just one. But you will never know who they saved and who they did not, nor will you know how many you could have saved in their place." Her lifeless mask tilted again, and this time it seemed to project a cruel mirth at his expense. It was easier to stare at the death that awaited him, back under the hot sun as he baked on those sands, than to look her in the eye again.

What she had put before him was an impossible choice. Become a hero or die and see five heroes take your place. It was nonsense, the kind of useless argument people have in philosophy classes. But this was very real. If he chose this then he most certainly would die. Five heroes could save exponentially more people than just one, right? "How… how do I know what kind of people you will choose to replace me?"

Her animated hands clapped together. He almost expected a cloud of sand upon the impact, but it didn't happen. "An astute question: very good. You understand the core of the problem quite well, though you are still missing some of the nuances. To answer you: I would use a different criterion than the one used to choose you, the one favored by Ligier. Where the Green Sun appreciates intangible assets such as a heroic spirit, my preference would be champions who are strongly motivated by their sense of justice. Justice, order, faith, hierarchy… these things bind societies together."

He could see it clearly now. Five heroes guided by a strong sense of justice. But again, he doubted that everyone's sense of justice was the same. Would they spare the same villains he would and argue for lenient sentences? Would they be too busy chasing villains to rescue disaster victims? Another question occurred to him. "You said I was a shared champion… and these five would be yours… what… does that mean they wouldn't be as powerful as I could be? Would their Quirks not be as powerful?"

This time he was certain. The mask was smiling. He wasn't sure what to make of that. "They would not be as powerful in the sense that they would be limited in the scope of what power is available to them… but they would be just as powerful in their ability to reshape your world… but you must never again refer to the great powers we Primordials offer you as Quirks. Our powerful Charms hang from the Shinma-tapestry of existence itself. Our Charms are our spiritual genes, our defining art and will. Where our Devas are our flesh and bones our Charms are the building blocks from which we made ourselves before the first stars lit the sky."

Izuku did not understand even twenty percent of what he just heard. But he understood the puzzle better: he could become a champion with power from more than one of these world spanning Titans, these Primordials. With that power he hoped he could help more people than five champions raised up by a single Creator. "I think I understand. Please, let us turn back to the oasis."

But she didn't turn. She didn't direct him back towards the water. They remained there staring back at the endless dunes. "Tell me. Why should I share one champion with my siblings… when I could have five of my own?"

Izuku finally realized just how much real danger he was in. Was this a test? Or was it rhetorical? He had to think quickly, or this alien being would likely bury him in her sands. He would suffocate and possibly drown with sand in his lungs. "Forgive me, lady Cecelyne, but… Isn't it better for you to have influence over the servant of another Titan than to waste an asset that you have partial claim to?"

Her laughter was like a wind chime in a storm, a clamor of notes that could never pass for human sounds. "Good, young Izuku. You play the game well for your age. Now all that is left is but one question… will you rule? Or will you merely play the game?"

Her laughter and her smile did not mean that he was safe. It was clear now that she saw his desire to be a hero as somehow an undesirable trait, one that she hoped to reshape to another more suited to her own design. Where he wanted to save people with his own hands, she would settle for nothing less than to turn him into a monarch… and he even pieced together that his own rule would be a puppet for hers. He didn't want that… but then the five that she would pick would have even less choice than he did in that moment, as there would be no other Titan for them to call on. This entire exchange was nothing more than an interview where she got to decide how useful he would be to her, and once that was settled if she thought he was useful enough to let live.

"If it's a king you would have me become… then I will rule… but I must be as heroic a ruler as possible." He spoke with as much determination as he could muster in spite of his thirst, his exhaustion, and his desire to hold onto his life in the face of a monster he couldn't comprehend.

"Defiant… but productive defiance. Yes. You will do well. But be warned: Malfeas is the One and Only King. Never assume such a title nor speak of taking such. Be a Prince, a Duke… anything… but leave the King his singular honor." Blessedly she turned the two of them away from the dunes and back toward the oasis behind them. The temples and their supplicants were gone as though they had never been there, but all Izuku could see was the water of that beautiful pond.

His mouth had never felt so dry as when he gazed on that tiny lake for the second time. It seemed like forever since he had last seen it. He repeated his earlier entreaty. "Lady Cecelyne… may I please drink from your oasis?"

With a gentle prod she urged him forward. The dunes seemed to part further as he crawled on his knees towards the water. "Come, drink of me and my oasis."

He did not need to be told twice. He dove in face first and immersed his entire face under the surface, sucking the waters deep into his gullet. He breached to gasp for air before diving his face back under the surface.

"Calm yourself, Izuku… take your time…" A hand gently coaxed him to relax, stroking through his hair. He did not turn his head to look over his shoulder, but instead craned his neck to keep his nose above the surface as he continued to drink. Breathe and drink, he told himself as he alternated back and for the between the two. As he did, he felt better and stronger with each gulp. As his stomach filled, he instead took smaller sips. In his heat driven delirium he even lapped at the surface of the water like a possessed beast.

Her grip onto his hair and head become more intense, and another arm raked down across his back. He spared a glance and saw that the two arms were reaching out from below him to either side. Her body was no longer there… had she sunk back into the dunes? Was she going to pull him under? In a moment of panic he stopped drinking and lifted his head up completely.

But by then he was trapped. "Drink deep of my oasis, Izuku." He heard her voice which now sounded less human than before and more like echoes of the wind through a distant canyon. Yet he still made out the words clearly. Before he could object the arms pulled him down, forcing his face back into the surface of the water. He gasped for air on his way down but had to exhale some of it as drinking water became his last desperate hope to lower the water enough to turn his head and breathe.

"Drink." She said, and he did. Instantly he was no longer in a desert, but inside one of the temples she had revealed to him earlier. He was kneeling before a great stone altar, gazing up into the eyes of a high priestess. A queen of the desert. She was ebony, she was spices, she was incense; and yet she was a vibrant woman with generous curves, and she was naked save for jewelry and gold painted onto her skin in patterns he could lovingly follow for days.

"Drink." She urged as she passed him a cup of wine. The cup was silver, and the wine was rich. He was drunk in one mouthful. His hesitation and his awkwardness vanished in one swallow regardless of what dreams may come. Because that is what his lushed mind told him: that this was all a dream and there were no consequences here.

"Drink" she commanded as she parted her legs before him, and he dove his face between her thighs. He gazed up to look into her eyes as her hands dug into his hair. His eyes followed the patterns painted onto her skin up to the jewel adorned breasts and past those up to her face, but she smiled and admonished him with a pat on the back of his head. His eyes smiled as he looked up at her own eyes and then at the large opaque jewel that somehow was attached to her forehead.

Her demand for him, however briefly affectionate, was not to be confused with a request. "Drink."

He drank in her beauty, her smell, her taste, but most of all he drank in pride at the pleasure he administered to her. With each moment he grew bolder and more confident in his ministrations. And then all too soon he brought her to the ending she desired… and once again his face was under the water of a puddle in the desert. He hoped that their shared moment would goad her to release him. That hope vanished as the dunes rose up to surround him and then collapsed upon him, threatening to crush him under their immense weight.

Perhaps the dream was just his own oxygen deprived imagination at work, he told himself fleetingly as he struggled to breathe under the weight of the sand piling on top of him.


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Helpless and paralyzed, Inko watched as the battle unfolded around her. Airi and her news crew recorded everything and interfaced with whatever studios they remained in contact with, which presumably added commentary as they aired footage of the battle across the world. Support crews worked behind the scenes to evacuate large numbers of civilians, run medical triage for heroes, and maintain constant communication between hero teams. Inko was aware that in the background two members of the Hero Association support division were even on the line with international teams in Korea, China, and the United States. The incident now had the attention of the United Nations and was no longer considered domestic terrorism.

The entire world watched in horror along with her as All Might had lost his right hand. The world joined her in her helplessness as her son was spirited away by Mount Lady. But it was too soon to cheer for small victories or to mourn any losses. The enemy remained in pursuit. She overheard another support group working with lower ranked heroes combing the peripheral area of the conflict. They were searching for whatever ship these extraterrestrials had come here in. Another was working with social scientists around the world to analyze recorded fragments of the language the terrorists were speaking to each other.

Terrorists? Aliens? Whatever or whoever they were, their designs on her son were anything but benign. They wanted him, for some reason specifically him, for a terrible purpose. Why? Why would they take a sweet boy like her Izuku? He was gentle and kind. While other boys idolized heroes for their battle prowess Izuku focused on their capacity to help people, to rescue them. Her son had the largest heart and the most generous soul of anyone that she had ever known. And these people wanted him and did not hesitate to bring terror and bloodshed to get their way.

Rage burned impotently in her chest. But her idleness gave her an ability to blend into the background and observe. The entire apartment was unrecognizable as a home. It was now a temporary base of operations. Each of the three bedrooms and the living room were effectively offices for different activities, and each were crowded. She supposed the owner's belongings and furniture were stored away into a nearby apartment. None of it could be found here.

She was the first to notice the intrusion in the living room due to her wandering eyes. It was subtle. Sand has started seeping in under the front door of the apartment. It was a gradual trickle at first, then it caught a lot of attention as sand seemed to blow in from above and the sides of the door as well… then through it as though the door was nothing more than a flour sifter. She saw support crews signal frantically for aid. The enemy was now in the heart of their operation. They knew to expect that one of the hulking ape-like creatures would soon manifest where the cloud of sand coalesced.

What appeared instead was something out of a drug induced nightmare. Four emaciated and multi jointed arms appeared, at the end of each was a seven-digit paw rather than a proper hand. Each claw tip however appeared to be a series of bristles rather than a finger or a blade. What floated above the floor at the center of this limb collection was a hollow cloak. It was made of worn leather composed of dozens of faces, all of which seemed contorted in agony.

"Operation Eggshell is compromised. Headquarters has been breached. I repeat," The communication manager was cut off from speaking when one of the twisted limbs thrust forward, jamming the bristles of the outstretched paw into the man's throat. His skin gave way like the surface of a puddle when stepped on, and color drained from his face as a red line trailed back up the bristles to the center of the cloak. There a thin form of crimson glass formed. It was a red mask accompanied by a series of interlocking glass bones behind it, all anchoring that mask to the many faces that stitched into the body of this thing.

Inko was not the only one to scream while witnessing the assault, and more voices of despair joined the chorus as the assaulted man slumped to the floor once this monster had drained enough blood for its purpose. They all feared for their lives. Death was here among them, and unlike a human villain this thing was so foreign that its capabilities were completely unknown. But just as they all braced for it to latch onto another victim it paused and scanned the room with empty eye sockets of a newly formed mask.

"I seek the mother." Its voice was chaotic like radio static or a loud shaker of table salt, yet words still transmitted easily enough as the bones behind the mask rubbed against each other like a collection of discordant stringed instruments.

Mustering courage she did not know she had, Inko stepped forward. "I'm Izuku's mother." Her peripheral vision allowed her to see one of the other supporters crawl to obtain the microphone and switch from their fallen comrade. This thing in front of her did not seem to notice. It bore down on her with all of its singular focus.

The eyeless face stared at her unnervingly. "I am Mahbagodeth, known across the deserts of Cecelyne as the Inkwell of Blood. We have much to discuss."

Inko contained her fear and anger while she kept her clenched fists down to her sides. This opportunity to be useful in the conflict and to help her son was too important to throw away. "Yes. I believe we do."


{0}


Gasping for air he burst from the sand, revealing his upper torso. Soon after he managed to claw his way completely to the surface. And there in spite of the endless heat of the sun and the baking heat of the dunes he was thankful for another moment of life. He wasn't sure how long he was under the dunes, but it was far too long. As he placed his hands on the sands in front of him, he noticed something.

His hands looked like he had been tanning for a very long time. He looked down and over the rest of him and from what he could tell the effect had covered his entire body. With his clothes in tatters it was easy for him to see that this affected every part of him. Additionally, he didn't feel nearly as hot nor as thirsty as he was before. On some level he understood that it was still hot, but that was no longer a major concern. It was as if he was somehow immune to the blisteringly arid conditions that just an hour or more ago threatened his life.

"You did well." She spoke from somewhere behind him. He whirled around rapidly to meet her face to face. For the briefest of moments, he wondered if it would be the voluptuous priest queen he would see, and indeed as he turned the corner of his vision beheld her and he drank in her beauty. Her bountiful curves and dark thick lips with just the barest hint of a smile, eyes darker than the deepest night, all of it outlined perfectly by gold pain etched into her generous frame across her flawless dark skin. And just as quickly as he focused his vision on her that human appearance was gone, replaced by the enigmatic and lifeless mask of sand and salt.

Was the woman he remembered an illusion of his own making? Was there meaning to the pleasure of that vision? Was any of it real? Was that a vision of who she used to be before becoming this fathomless queen of an endless and empty desert? Was she ever human, even if it was long before in a forgotten age? He probably would never know the answers to these questions.

She slowly strode forward across the dune they stood on, as though gliding across the sand. Then she reached forward tentatively to touch a long lifelike finger to his forehead. He felt rather than saw the gem she pressed into his skin. "A gift." was all she said in that moment as he felt a scorpion like sting where it made contact. To his credit he didn't flinch. He bit back a number of things he would have liked to say.

"With this you have but to focus your will on returning to this place. It will guide you to where my sands slowly seep into your world and there you may open a door to reach me and my endless desert again. From here you may journey anywhere my sands touch. Some journeys such as the way to Malfeas will take you a mere five days… but other places are much farther for you." As she spoke her hand moved to trace the outline of the side of his face. Then her finger grazed gently along his jawline and then his lips. The gesture was familiar and human, like that of a hesitant lover. It was the only confirmation he would get that what passed between them was more than a desperate man drinking water in a desert. It was something he never explicitly asked for. He would have to accept that.

Cold and alien once more, she withdrew from him and rose to a height that dwarfed him. Once more he was a tiny creature in a Titan's shadow. Yet he no longer felt as small or as weak as when they first met. He gazed up to her face and did not waver as she was blindingly framed by the corona of the Green Sun behind her.

"Touch the jewel I have gifted you and direct a prayer to me, and I will hear you regardless of what world you call out from. Pray, and I will offer you my blessings and my boons in answer to your entreaties." The wording was precise and careful. He knew that since the moment he had first met her they were not speaking his native Japanese. The language was Malfean. And her meaning to him was clear. Anything he prayed for he would receive, but the price for calling on this dread deity would be steep. His life would be a cheap price for the blessing she would offer him. He knew that a prayer to her would place him in an endless cycle of debt, one that would one day see him as nothing more than her puppet.

"Thank you Lady Cecelyne. Your wisdom and gifts are as boundless as the sands of your expansive desert." He bowed as per the custom of his home country and when he stood up again, she was already gone. But he knew that he still stood in her domain, and that she still surrounded him. But as far as she was concerned the lesson and the conversation were both over. He had to accept that and move on in a literal sense. He cast his gaze across the horizon and saw nothing he should be walking towards… so instead he decided that his best bet was to walk towards the Green Sun which had remained in the same position in the sky since the moment he first arrived. He barely noticed that the desert winds had grown quiet as he continued on his way.