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Chapter Eighteen


Golden Years Tarnished Black


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To Ochako, Izuku's lips were anything but human. They appeared perfect to the eye, though artificially projected. His lips felt like something between static electricity and hot air. The act of breathing into his holographic lungs made her lightheaded. The sensation helped distract her from the approaching danger.

She didn't have a plan to account for a dog, or perhaps a wolf, of such immense size. Her muscles were tense as she prepared to slap the thing if it got too close. If it were a slap from almost any other woman on the planet then she'd simply concede her defeat as a foregone conclusion. Uraraka Ochako however could slap this beast into orbit if she put her mind to it. Slowly, but surely, it would be sent far away.

It might take her entire arm off with it, but that was a risk Ochako had taken multiple times already when fighting those giant apes… Blood Apes, Izuku had called them.

The canine monstrosity approached. Each step was slow and premeditated, showing tension and cautiousness. Ochako sat back, ready for it. She knew it would lunge forward at any moment, ready to tear her apart. All she needed was a solid strike with her Quirk and the fight would effectively be over.

Alarm flooded through her as Izuku struggled to sit up; the effort was painful to watch. Her heart leapt when she saw just how weak he was. It seemed so wrong after watching him fight so many monsters, so many demons, just an hour ago. His confidence, his laughter, all seemed distant and forgotten now. In a moment of carelessness, she placed her hand behind his back to stop him from falling backward, only to render him weightless.

What a wonderful mistake, she would think later. At that moment though she was horrified by her own error. That moment vanished as Izuku's muscles tensed and pulled his weightless body upright. With no weight pulling him down his own weakness was no longer a handicap. He shouted a single sharp word at the dire wolf, mustering all his strength into his voice.

To Ochako's shock, the wolf froze. If she had not known better, she would have sworn it was a petrified specimen, not a living breathing creature. Then, as Izuku continued to stare the thing down, it backed away and sat like a dog, patiently waiting for the next command.

Sitting up next to her, Izuku used every muscle in his body to balance himself upright as he started to float off the ground. Ochako managed to grab onto his hand and the waistline of his pants before he could appear foolish in front of the shadow-wolf. She was worried about how much energy he was using, how much this act of dominance was depleting him.

Izuku barked out another command. This time the monstrous hound turned away immediately and sauntered toward the coronal edge of the anima-light that surrounded them. Only when the thing's head was clearly out and facing the darkness, only then did Izuku relax his posture and let himself rest in Ochako's arms.

Even weightless, he felt like the mass of the world to her. She looked about and saw that the wolf was sitting out in the darkness… and that the darkness was advancing toward them. The corona was retreating inward. Centimeter by centimeter it withdrew from the world like an outgoing tide. The emerald light that surrounded them was dimming.

Izuku's face and body dimmed even as he rested in her embrace.

He labored to breathe in deeply before speaking. "Ochako… once the anima retreats… I won't last more than a few minutes. There's nothing you can do to stop that. Please. Take the memories I handed you. Run from here. You need to watch out for yourself. Please…" Izuku almost begged. Perhaps, she mused, this was his way of begging.

"No." she interrupted him. Ochako resolved deep inside her soul to stay with him and hold his hand up until the moment that he… she didn't want to complete that thought. Still, she needed a better reason to stay, one that Izuku would accept.

It wasn't hard to scrape that reason together. "Where would I even go? Where would I even be safe? What is the backup plan if we can't get this Chrysalis to Mt. Takao? Is there even a backup plan?"

He shook his head. "There… I don't know Ochako…"

Ochako fought back tears. He was growing more and more translucent. She could clearly see through his face to the street below now.

Izuku reached up to brush his fingers against her cheek. She could barely feel them there. "You're right. There is no backup plan… I just want you to be safe… I'm… I'm afraid."

She pushed lightly, making sure that he rested on the ground and that he wouldn't float away. "What are you afraid of Izuku? After everything I've seen you do, you don't strike me as being afraid of anything."

He smiled at the compliment. It was a beautiful smile, she thought, even if it was also sad.

"I'm afraid of who Izuku will become… I'm afraid that I'm the last part of him that's still Izuku… if that happens, we're all doomed." He admitted, baring himself and his vulnerability to her.

Ochako did not need to be reminded that she was comforting a construct, an artificial being that had done so much for her… saved her… saved her father… She had to repay him. Somehow. She gripped onto his hand and held it to her face. "I believe in you, Izuku. You need to believe in yourself too, ok?"


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Izuku awoke in his room. Except that it was not his room.

Sitting up from the bed he observed that everything around him was cast in stark colorless contrast. Blacks, white, greys. There was not one shred of color in the room. Torn posters littered the walls, yet even those were black and white, nearly featureless. A quick glance out the window revealed a bleak colorless world with a black sphere in the sky where there should be a sun. There was no indication where the light came from that lit up the muted grey sky.

Below on the street there were no people. Merely shadows. They walked about as if in a purposeless daze, tugged forward by strings as they made no effort to resist. He dreaded the prospect of opening the door to the rest of the apartment, of seeing what kind of shadow may have replaced his mother.

Izuku consoled himself that this all had to be an illusion. He was in the grasping custody of the Whispering Flame. Perhaps he had finally passed out from the pain? This all seemed too real, too tangible to be a dream though.

Opening the closet door, there were casual clothes there made of tangible shadow-substance. Colorless and drab as they were, they were better options than his near-constant state of undress. Surprisingly everything was sized to fit his large frame, even though he was taller and bulkier than he was before his transformation into an Exalt. Izuku dressed quickly, caring more for expediency than style.

Walking into the living room was familiar yet wrong. There was the couch and television. There was the small table where he and his mother would eat together. Seated there however, was Izuku.

This dark reflection of himself did not in any way resemble the doppelgangers made by Adorjan. It did not have his enhanced height, tan, or muscular frame. It was his older weaker self, twisted into something… perverse. The copy had pale skin, muted grey-green hair, and a slender build that was accentuated with fine clothes. It was better dressed than Izuku had ever been in his whole life. A green tie. White linen shirt. A vest so dark green it was nearly black. The jacket and slacks were so dark that they seemed to be made of shadows. If not for the pale skin at his wrists, the gloved hands would bleed into that darkness.

"Prince Izuku. It's a pleasure to finally meet you." The copy rose and bowed per Japanese custom, yet it never wavered in maintaining solid eye contact. Izuku stared into glowing green fires that reflected his own. This was no mere reflection, no shadow like the things outside.

"How shall I address you? Shadow of All Things? Ebon Dragon? Father of Lies? What title would you prefer?" Izuku asked, already surmising the source and architect of the false world he was standing in.

The fake Izuku smiled, or perhaps it would be more accurate to say that the Dragon smiled, and the puppet copied the gesture. "I have many names. Darkness. Enemy. Nemesis. I have been called all of that and worse. Call me as you like, Prince Izuku."

"Very well." Izuku sat across from his shadowy inversion. "What riddle or test do you have for me, Dragon-sama? What would you have me do?" The Malfean language accommodated the inclusion of a Japanese honorific about as well as a prison houses an inmate. Still, Izuku chose to cut straight to the point, knowing that he was in for pain or worse. He might as well get on to it and stop wasting time on social pleasantries.

"I just want to get to know you better, Prince Izuku… or may I call you Izuku-kun?" the Dragon's puppet asked. The way the shadow emphasized the suffix was not endearing.

"Call me as you like, Dragon-sama." Izuku replied.

"Well then, Izuku-kun… why don't you tell me about your parents for starters. Why did they separate?"


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There was no time to provide a solid answer.

Izuku was thrust deep into a memory, reliving it as though it were here in the present.

Light and color invaded his eyes. Reality shifted.

He was small. Powerless. A child. Crying.

His mother was driving him home from the doctor. They had just found out that Izuku was Quirkless. She seemed withdrawn. Cold.

He wanted love. Attention. Comfort. He reached out for her.

"Izuku. I'm trying to focus on the road." She snapped at him.

He bit back his tears as best as he could. He failed. He hadn't developed a Quirk. He had failed his mother, and now she was angry at him.

Eventually they arrived home. He clung to her skirt, desperate for contact. She eventually got down to his level to console him… after a prolonged moment of painful hesitation. It felt less like she wanted to comfort him and more like she was supposed to, like it was an obligation.


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The world shifted, relaxing into a bleak colorless inversion of itself. He was once again sitting in his replica living room. The Dragon's version of Izuku sat across from him, a look of pity on his face.

"That's so sad. How did your father take the news?"

Izuku grit his teeth as he was thrust back into his own mind.


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Color. Light. Blinding. A small powerless body, a Quirkless child.

His father and mother were yelling at each other. He didn't understand all the words. He was, after all, only four years old. Unfortunately, he understood just enough to piece it together. They were fighting over him. No, not over him. They were arguing over which one of them would be stuck with him.

"I can't have him unattended while I'm at work." His father stated coldly, loudly.

"And how will I pay the bills while I'm watching him?" his mother retorted.

He cried while listening. Izuku was a burden, one that neither of them wanted but that one of them must take on. Worthless. Quirkless. Already a failure at age four.

Days later his father left. For work, he had said. He didn't hug Izuku. It was the last time he saw his father, and there was no paternal embrace.


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"That must have been very hard." The Dragon's puppet said, offering what consolation he could.

"I got past it. I kept myself busy… interested in other things. I tried not to think about it." Izuku offered up, as though to deflect the Primordial from offering pity.

"A hobby?" Dragon-Izuku asked.

Izuku shook his head sadly. "Not really. A fascination… with heroes."

"Did your mother encourage you? Did she help foster this interest?" the copy asked. They both already knew the answer.


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"You still watch those videos?" Inko asked her son, exasperated that she was interrupted again by his annoyingly insatiable hero-fascination.

"Please mom?" he asked, almost begging. "Again? Please?" he was shocked at how weak and frail his voice sounded, yet the memory rang genuine to his ears.

"This is the twentieth time in less than a week." Inko sighed as she stood up from her seat, setting aside the book she was reading. She quickly pulled the video up on their home computer, finding it in their recently viewed history. "One more time and then you need to go to bed." Her voice was stern.

"Okay. Thank you, mom." Little Izuku hoped she would stick around but she didn't, not even to reply to him. Soon he was alone in his room watching his favorite hero, All Might, rescue a crowd of civilians from a disaster. His joy at the sight felt hollow as the video repeated itself… his mother didn't come in to turn it off. Instead he simply heard her through the door, ordering him to bed.

Looking around through the lens of memory, Izuku saw this hyper decorated room for what it was, a sanctuary. A hiding place. Here in his loneliness he could pretend that having an idol to look up to would fill the hole inside of him left by his parents.

He cried himself to sleep after turning the computer off.

Some days later Izuku would play at rescuing his mother for the last time. There is always a last time for such childhood joys. Usually such finality is not marked at the time. They simply pass. However, in Izuku's case the last rescue would obviously never be repeated.

His mother asked him "Aren't you getting a little big for this?" as though getting up to play hero with her son was a chore.

Disheartened, he still went through the motions of the game with her, loudly declaring that All Might catchphrase of "I am here!" yet the experience was hollow. Izuku didn't have the heart to ask her ever again.

His mother clearly had no desire to humor or encourage her son's dream of being a hero.


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"I see." The well-dressed version of Izuku spoke somberly. It was difficult to remember that this fully human body was nothing more than an extension of a gigantic dragon made of darkness.

"It wasn't ideal, but that was my home life." Izuku shrugged.

"What about school, or friends? Did you have anyone else to play with, to commiserate with? Anyone that would play hero with you?"

Undisguised bitterness crept like a snake from Izuku's throat. "No" he spat out. "Not unless you count Bakugou."


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Oh yes, Bakugou Katsuki and his lackeys often played hero and villain with Izuku. They always forced Izuku to play the villain. And the heroes would always beat up the villain. Izuku would often be scarred or bruised, sometimes burned.

Izuku flinched at the memory, recalling the helplessness and the pain of it all. Regardless though he could not bring himself to really care about what the Dragon was showing him. After all, he had let go of these feelings. There was no more weight here than there was color in the Dragon's illusions.

"Tell me about how all of this… bullying started." The Dragon's voice, disguised as Izuku's own, prompted in the middle of the memory.

"It started after Bakugou got his Quirk." Izuku said, even as the younger version of himself was getting pummeled. It was strange that he could hear the Dragon and speak to him even while receiving fists to his own face.

"Is that really when it started?" the Dragon asked, his voice floating ephemerally within the memory. Immediately everything shifted to the day that Bakugou fell in the river… the day that Izuku, small and helpless, offered to help get Bakugou up and out of the river.

That was the trigger? All along, it was his offer to help that started it. Before that day, their relationship had shifted from a friendship to one of leader and follower… but this was the day that Izuku's role as follower had died. In its place, Izuku would be rejected and relegated to become the victim of Bakugou's abuse.

It was all Izuku's fault. Bakugou didn't want his help. His mother didn't want to be rescued. No one wanted his help… "No one human, at least…" came the reminder from the voice that sounded so much like his own. Kindness was the problem, Izuku realized. Whenever Izuku offered himself out of kindness to help someone they grew distant and rejected him.


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"You sustained a large number of injuries over the years, Izuku-kun." The shadow-self lamented pitiably. "Didn't that boy get in trouble for tormenting you… didn't the teachers do anything… didn't your mother try to make things better?" There was an edge to that pity, a sadism that enjoyed knowing the answer before the question was finished.

Izuku would continue to feign at the shadow's game. "No. He never got in trouble."

The shadow silently waited for Izuku to continue. When the young Exalt refused to mouth the words they both knew came next, Izuku once again fell deep into his own memories… with a gentle push from the Ebon Dragon, of course.


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Izuku was laying down on his bed, facing the ceiling. There were burn marks across his neck and upper torso where Bakugou had unleashed an explosion that was stronger than usual. He had bandaged the wounds himself rather than ask his mother to do it. She had taught him how, knowing that he would need this skill.

This way she wouldn't need to be there to bandage him every time. This way she could avoid being called away from her work. Her phone calls to complain to the school had become less and less frequent over time. This time though the burns were bad enough that a call was warranted…

Izuku clenched his teeth at how weak his mother sounded. There was no fire in her, no fervor of rage over her son's abuse. It was like she was going through the motions, the expected societal norms, and the woman from the school administrator's office was equally acting along. Each of them humored the social norms while each knew nothing would truly be done.

The Dragon whispered to him that people often forgive abuse, just as Izuku had time and again. They ignore it outright if they aren't the recipient of it, especially if the abuser has beauty and power. Humans are weak minded creatures, after all, and flock to demagogues like sheep lining up for their own slaughter.

"No," Izuku whispered from his small battered body. "She doesn't care."

Izuku could feel his heart harden. His mother didn't care about him. She rejected him, letting him lie there without tending to him or fighting for him. At least she taught him to tend to his own wounds… a lesson then… that he must look out for himself and not rely on anyone else.

Izuku did not need Inko, the woman who birthed him. He did not need a mother. Or a father.


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"That all changed for you, didn't it? You finally met someone you could look up to and rely on… All Might, wasn't it?" the Dragon asked as Izuku's vision shifted to just a few days ago.

"You will never be a hero." All Might had said. He was weak. Emaciated. Yet he still spurned Izuku away from his hopes and dreams.

The vision froze and then rewound itself to the point in time when All Might lifted his shirt and displayed his near-fatal injury to Izuku's eyes. "He has secrets." The Dragon whispered.

"Of course he has secrets. He's hiding how injured he is." Izuku scoffed.

"No. Notice the details. There is more he isn't telling you." The shadow prompted him vaguely.

Rather than wait for further instructions Izuku cheated. He opened the third eye, gifted to him by Cecelyne. He focused hard using a lens over that eye, a construct of the Whispering Flame. Everything was revealed to him then.

The entire vision was a shadow-construct, an amalgamation of his actual memories and the Ebon Dragon's power. He saw how he was connected to the Dragon, the Shadow of All Things… but as he focused in on All Might, what he saw horrified him.

All Might had an Exigence. It was a lesser form of Exaltation. It was not genetic. It was a shining torch of pure Essence. It was old, far older than All Might's own soul. That soul was growing weaker, too fragile to keep holding onto so much power. He needed to find someone to pass that torch to…

Rage flooded vitriol into Izuku's heart when he finally understood how thoroughly All Might had rejected him. He wanted to rush forward and slice the man's throat. That gesture would be useless though. This was a shadow, just a memory of All Might.

"In a way, Izuku-kun, you should thank All Might for rejecting you." The shadow of Izuku rose up within the frozen vision, pale and frail compared to the mighty Prince.

"Without a fundamental failure, the Exaltation would not take hold." It was the first outright lie the Dragon had uttered to Izuku. A power deep within Izuku rang out like a bell, marking the statement as false. The rest of what the Dragon said, though, was true. "This was the crack in reality that drew our attention, that marked you in the eyes of Ligier. We are drawn to heroic spirits marred by failure, dear Prince. But you are a special case. Rather than a hero that failed, you are a hero that was failed by the world. This elevates you in the eyes of the Green Sun. He has placed a great many hopes in you."

Izuku saw the sense in all of this, yet still he was filled with bitterness towards his former idol. He could no longer say that he wanted to be a hero like All Might. A hero, yes. However, Izuku resolved to cast himself in his own image and utilize the power of his Exaltation to forge his own path.

The heroes of his birth world were powerful, yet that power was hollow. Inside they were greedy, flawed, narcissistic parasites playing a game in front of cameras for accolades and fame. Villains likewise were just pawns in a game of heroes, tools for the heroes to overcome before announcing their own victory. Izuku knew he had to rise above them both.


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All Might faded out of existence as the memory shifted. The rooftop remained, yet Izuku's perspective moved outward towards the horizon. His hands gripped solidly onto the safety fence of the roof's perimeter. A soft glow entered his peripheral vision. He knew this moment. It was etched forever into his mind.

He turned and saw Ahalmahlhat. She was even more beautiful in his mind's eye than he was able to appreciate in his self-conscious panic from before, his self-loathing at having been caught. This was the first time in his life that he felt so thoroughly accepted.

The moment that she kissed him stretched longer than eternity. Izuku was warm, welcome, and whole. He could barely recall the reason that he came to the rooftop in the first place. The coiling darkness whispering in his heart faded away. The urging he felt towards death dissipated as though it never was an option he had considered.

He forgot momentarily that the Dragon was watching him, observing him like a filthy voyeur. Izuku savored the moments he spent with the Neomah as he relished details that had passed by too quickly before. Ahalmahlhat was warm and her soft skin gave in to the press of his fingers, pliantly submitting to his embrace. Her mouth and her vulva each competed for his attention with how wet and wanton they were.

Her mouth on his tasted sweeter than any confection he had ever tasted. Izuku was rigid inside of her. Her vaginal muscles tightened and relaxed around him, teasingly massaging at his ache and need. He remembered that this moment ended before either could find their release and luxuriated in how much longer the sensations lasted, unhurried by her mission to usher him into Exaltation.

A tiny whisper in the back of his mind was the only reminder Izuku needed that he was not reliving this moment by himself. "There are many such Neomah as her… and all would lovingly serve you in the Eternal City of Malfeas… there are other pleasures as well."

All too quickly Izuku was no longer below the Neomah, Ahalmahlhat. He was on top of Cecelyne, tasting her. His tongue trailed up her inner thighs teasingly before diving in and tasting the waters of her forbidden oasis. He found the pearl at her epicenter and pulled back the hood in order to devour her whole. He was glad of how much pleasure he brought to her. He knew that she had had more experience than just him, more time spent in a lover's embrace than he had years of life. That did not belittle the fact that Izuku had brought her pleasure but enhanced it, swelling him equally with arousal and pride.

That pride swelled to outpace his arousal. He had survived the love of Adorjan! He had endured the examinations of the Whispering Flame! Look at how much Prince Izuku can endure! What trials he has overcome! All hail the Shining Prince, who passes any and all tests set before him by the Primordial masters of Creation! The moments of sex and adrenaline melded together into a milieu, jumbling together how much he had felt and how much he had surpassed. It was wonderful and addictive. There was more though waiting for him. Izuku knew that once he ascended to his rightful place in the Palace of the All Thing, anything he desired could be his. Sex. Drugs. Praise. Love. Anything and everything was within his reach. It was his to claim and to conquer. It was his rightful due.

It was too perfect. With a shock Izuku realized that he had been confusing the whisperings of the Dragon for his own internal voice. How long had he been doing that? Pulling at their connection as he had done with the Whispering Flame, he could see just how much the Dragon was changing him… had been changing him.

Unprompted he thought back. When did the whisperings of the Shadow start? Izuku was horrified that he did not truly know the answer. He flung his mind backward even as the Dragon filled his head with endless praise and pleasure, reliving the desperation and solitude he felt when he wrote suicide notes for his mother and for his tormenter. Why would he care what either of them thought? Why would he reach out to them from beyond the grave?

Why did he want to die?

And there it was all along. The dark serpent coiled around his heart, weighing him down like a stone tied to his feet, dragging him down into an abyss of despair and death. The Shadow of All Things was there prodding him towards his own destruction for far longer than Izuku would have ever suspected. Had that shadow been there all his life? It was certainly there well before Izuku encountered the demon, Ahalmahlhat.

Izuku smiled inwardly as he continued to indulge in the visions the Dragon used to inundate him. He could not trust his own memories anymore. Not even one. But he could smile and love his new masters… and he could hate them too.

He could also plot unseen against them. So, he smiled as he reached forward with his soul as though to embrace the shadows... but Izuku's purpose was far from benign. For now, he would lower his defenses and play along.

If only Izuku knew just how low his defenses had truly fallen.


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This vision was different from the rest. Unlike the others this was not in sharp glaring color. It was as muted as anything conjured by the Dragon from whole cloth.

His mother was there, but she could not see him. She was talking. Begging. Praying to Cecelyne.

"What is it that she is praying for?" the Dragon prompted, again using a mockery of Izuku's own voice.

For once Izuku did not know the answer in advance to the Dragon's question, at least not fully. He remembered that his mother had asked for the ceasefire. However, as the scene played out in front of him, it was the absence of what she said and asked for that stung far worse than any prior wound inflicted on him.

Inko did not ask Cecelyne for her son back. Izuku's mother did not even ask the dread deity if her son would be alright. There was no inquiry into his health or wellbeing. Nothing. Instead she begged for the lives of others…

Izuku could practically feel his heart turn into cold brittle flint.

"Now…" the Dragon spoke eagerly; his voice barely disguised any longer. "Tell us about this new Charm you've come up with."

As he turned away from the image of his mother, Izuku walked into another memory. This was the moment that the Dragon had promised to examine for the Whispering Flame. This was the moment Izuku cut into himself to activate Divided Chakra Shintai. The memory was still a patchwork of bright colored clarity and shadows that filled the gaps with colorless conjecture.

An accident. Izuku had cut too deeply when he made his own projected self. Somehow, he had cut away at vital memories with the Heart Cutting Edge. Izuku watched in horrified fascination as he watched memories spill out of his head onto the sand about him… memories that the phantasmal anima-projection quickly grabbed up.

The sheer disloyalty! The betrayal! The ephemeral copy of Izuku ran with the memory-weights and without word or explanation disappeared into the other world! Impotent rage consumed Izuku. Those memories were his. His!


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Izuku force his eyes open, unable to properly vent his wrath with them shut. His heart of flint demanded action and penance from those who had wronged him. Punishment would require power, power that thankfully the Primordial Host had provided to Izuku when they offered him Exaltation.

He was not surprised to find that he was standing on a floating dais of crystal and fire. Held aloft by the power of the Whispering Flame, Izuku stood alongside a shadow of himself, the Ebon Dragon. The Dragon's true body languidly flew alongside the platform while the Whispering Flame and her array of orbital spheres danced on his other flank.

Azure lines had been etched into his arms, a strange glowing tattoo. Arcane symbols in the dialect of Malfeas branched off from ley lines scar-carved into the skin from the top of his hand to twist behind his triceps before ascending beyond his view around the rear of his shoulders. The lines traveled onto his back to merge into a pattern he could not see, neither to read nor to see how far they extended up or down his body. The Whispering Flame offered no explanation as to the nature of her gift. He would need to decipher its utility and function on his own. That seemed right to him, given her desire to continuously test others. After all, beings such as him must appear like small rats in a maze to her.

Izuku was mildly surprised though to find that he was wearing a set of dark linens. The clothes loosely embraced his body, offering shelter from the Green Sun's harsh radiation. Thick soled shoes of an equally abyssal color protected his feet from the blistering heat below him. A small weight under the shirt accompanied by the feeling of cold metal provided all the clues Izuku needed to understand the nature of his attire. Everything he wore was a shadow projection from the medallion resting hidden against his chest. Somehow the loose chain it was fastened to moved, slithering its way to always hide under the edge of the shirt it had woven for him. Izuku spared a thought and the tunic like shirt shifted into a plain black t-shirt, then the color blossomed into the same deep emerald color as the vest the Dragon's shadow wore next to him, confirming for him his own absolute control over the appearance of his new wardrobe.

His new family offered up such wonderful gifts to him. Prince Izuku was truly blessed.

A small sphere extended from the array of the Great Sphere to float next to him. The whispers of a thousand voices coalesced into his mind. "Your errors have been sorted and accounted for. Our conclusion is that you are worthy to proceed into the Eternal City of Malfeas, Prince Izuku of House Ligier."

The shadow version of Izuku smiled with undisguised predatory joy when Izuku bent at the waist to bow to the Whispering Flame. "You honor me, oh Whispering Flame. Thank you for isolating my flaws and making them known to me. May my efforts to strive for perfection one day bring me closer to your greater symmetry." Honeyed platitudes coated around sincere love of the Primordial spilled from Izuku's mouth.

After all, how could he stay angry at his new family when they were so beautiful, so wonderful, and so generous? The earlier vivisection was so trifling, so inconsequential. It was all just a misunderstanding.

The sphere reformed itself into a nearly humanoid shape, a liquid manifestation of crystal and flame. It shone with the light of a million distant stars as it strode across the platform, where it then extended a hand… if that fingerless extension could be called a hand. Floating above the extended limb was a key made of fire and crystalized starlight. "Tell me, Prince Izuku, is this the Charm-object you were grasping for earlier when you were trying to steal from us, from she Who Lives in Her Name?"

His heightened essence senses confirmed that it was the very last key that he needed… for what again? He was no longer certain. He bowed deeper, sincerely sorry for what he had done. "Yes, Great Sphere. It was wrong of me to take your power without asking. My ambition outpaced my ethics and I allowed myself to breech the bond between us to take such power from you. I was swept up in the beauty of your symmetrical perfection and wanted some of that power for myself. I lusted for your mathematical understanding of truth and your potent will."

It did not occur to Prince Izuku that before today he had never been this eloquent or formal before in his life. He could not see the bits and pieces of himself that he was, even now, breaking off and leaving scattered like trash in a desert.

Izuku rose and gratefully accepted the key into his hands when the Whispering Flame allowed it to rest in his grasp. The Key burned his flesh as it dissipated into pure essence, its pattern absorbed into the constellations within the Prince's soul. "All is forgiven. Now. What will you do when you reconnect with your anima-construct? What is your plan to correct your internal dissonance?"

Without hesitation, Prince Izuku spoke with barely disguised and heartfelt bitterness. "I cannot trust him," Izuku says. "Unfortunately, I cannot reclaim my stolen memories without reestablishing that connection. I'll need to kill him and replace him with one loyal to me… loyal to the Reclamation. If I wait just a bit longer, he'll be completely helpless, and I'll simply tug his chain back to me… and then I will devour him."

The Dragon, watching all of this, smiled proudly. Prince Izuku noticed all of this and turned towards the shadow-Izuku that the Dragon had made expressly for talking to Izuku. He bowed low to the Dragon. "Thank you so much, oh Shadow of All Things. You have shown me how to love myself and to appreciate the faith that the Primordial Host of the Reclamation has shown in me."

Rising to meet him eye to eye, the two versions of Izuku smiled at each other, one a warped Prince of Malfeas, the other a shadow representation of his earlier self. Each knew secrets about the other better left unsaid, tiny sins that were best hidden away in the darkness. Still, the Dragon had great cause to be proud of this moment. After all, the Prince reasoned, it was none other than the Ebon Dragon who had shown Izuku how wrong he was up until this point in his life, how much his faith in those around him had been so stupidly misplaced. "Of course, dear Prince. Now, allow me the honor of being the first to welcome you to Malfeas… the Eternal City… and your new home."

The platform descended to the desert floor directly in front of one of the many gates into Malfeas. This close, the walls seemed perfectly straight, stretching forever to Izuku's right and left where the two Primordials took positions to flank the gate. The entryway seemed impossibly wide and tall, easily capable of fitting vehicles larger than an aircraft carrier if such a thing could move across the desert. The gates were formed of a strange green-hued brass. They groaned and creaked as they opened outward as if to embrace Izuku and usher him deeper into the great city.

Light and noise flooded outward from within the city itself. Scents of spices and flowers wafted across Izuku's nose. Brass bells rang from towers far in the distance, yet many smaller chimes and bells rang out on the street. Izuku walked headlong into a celebration held specifically for his arrival. Demons of over a hundred different species that fit numerous descriptions of shape, size, and color thronged about him. They shouted with unrestrained joy to welcome him as they rang various instruments, threw flowers and powdered spices into the air, filling the clamorous horde with discordant joyous noises, scents, and colors.

Several luscious Neomah approached him to place wreathes of silver flowers about his neck before he was pulled in to dance next to several tentacle limbed creatures. Great blood apes roared at his approach, honoring him and shouting oaths to follow him into glorious battle. Small lizards and locust folk bowed low as his celebratory entry party passed close to their shops, offering him gifts and samples of any silk, spice, or other oddity he could desire. A tall scorpion like creature, a Tinsiana if Izuku recalled, offered him a great jug of alcohol so potent that the young Exalt internally swore that he would get drunk just from the fumes. His other hand soon held a great leg of spiced meat offered up to him by a man that seemed more flower than flesh. Everyone. Everything. All of them wanted to meet him and to welcome him. In their eyes he saw hope and fascination.

Izuku, the Shining Prince, had come home. Finally, Izuku belonged and was welcome, appreciated, and praised as the great hero he always wanted to be.

The sights were nothing less than strangely spectacular. Far off the distance Izuku saw the endless spire of Qaf, stretching infinitely into the sky. He could barely make out the edges of Szoreny, the Silver Forest, wedged next to the district he was in like a great park in the middle of the bustling city. The city itself though was fascinating. It curved in long concentric rings, moving and expanding as a great living construct. Stone and metal melded together in a tenuous embrace to form polished cobblestone streets. Towers made of great shells, ivory, or even brass were common. Many were capped with loud bells that rang at irregular intervals. Yet despite the daunting height of it all everything was fully illuminated by the constant warmth and energy of the Green Sun.

The Prince was inundated with such sights and smells, caught up in brief conversations that he would struggle to remember while the demons he spoke to would likely treasure these moments for years to come. His status as a celebrity was instantaneous and overwhelming. It took several hours just to cross the great promenade before he could really explore the city, as the press of thousands of eager demons made passage difficult. The Prince though was generous and did not mind. These were his people, and he loved them almost as much as they loved him.

There is a saying in Malfeas. "There is no love without pain."

He saw her out of the corner of his eye. She was a living shock to his system, a mar against the perfection of this moment. He turned his head to look at her, and the demons thronged closer to him, offering up even more distraction as though panicking over the egregious error that had caused their Prince to feel anything but joy. Their effort was wasted. The damage was already done.

There, dragged by a chain around her neck, was a little girl. Human. Her eyes were large and dark; fearful. Her head had been shaved bald. Her bare feet were probably callused from walking on the hot cobblestones for so long. Before being pulled roughly by her gargantuan serpent-like master, she reached out a hand towards Prince Izuku. Her eyes begged for help.

The demons wanted him, but this small child needed him. The knowledge was a shock of ice to his face against the backdrop of a sweet summer day. How much had he let the demons change him and in how short a time… that he would willingly feel like he belonged with these rampant devourers of humanity… these despoilers of entire worlds?

Internally, he shook himself into action. He strode through the crowd purposefully, no longer letting the flow slow him or direct him. He knew he would never be able to save every human in the Demon City, and he also understood that there were likely more people here than there were humans on the home he called Earth. None of that meant that he couldn't somehow save this one little girl from whatever fate was in store for her.

No, he could do far better than that. He could save one world out of thousands… and one little girl. Quietly, discreetly, Izuku reached within his own essence and sent out the Morse signal to his other self. It was time to reconnect the chain. It was time for Izuku to trust his gut and not his memories. It was time for Izuku to remember that no matter what other people around him had done, it did not consign mankind to the cruel fate that the Yozis had in store.

Izuku could no longer recognize himself. That however did not change one basic fact, one small hand reaching out to him that called into his soul for help. Even if he was more demon than man, he could do this. Even if there would be no reward and no thanks, Izuku could still be a hero.