Warning — this is just a rough draft.

Author's Note: My brain asked me to work on this instead of perfecting the side story, and... well, considering that I'll be busy for a while, and since I have yet to get myself a proofreader for the story... eh, you know how it is. Anyway, here you go; a rough draft of the chapter. Or not... yeah, pretty sure that there are still a lot of mistakes that I need to fix. Details to add, facts to crosscheck, and so on, and so on. Not the best, I know. I mean, the whole chapter is subject to change. Maybe I'll replace the ice by having Black Swan join the fight, if only ever so subtly. Haven't even gotten the chance to put the chapter through G-doc, so don't expect the grammar to be anything decent. Also, you'll see something, or someone — people that shouldn't be there. Don't worry, it will be explained in the next chapter. With that said, I'll be working on this chapter again in a few weeks. For now, it's bedtime for me~

Disclaimer: Honkai Impact 3rd belongs to miHoYo; Honkai: Star Rail belongs to miHoYo; Worm belongs to Wildbow.

Proofreading and Editing by –

--

Origin of The End

Volume I - Chapter II

--

They came at her screaming, a chaotic symphony of madness and rage... or at least, two of them did.

The woman called Shatterbird was the first to react, dozens of razor-sharp fragments shimmering in the dim light before she launched them with a wave of her hand; they whistled through the air, their crystalline edges singing like a siren would a deadly lullaby. Fool. A slight adjustment of her grip, and the man's body twisted in her grasp, his form posed as a makeshift shield moments before the shards arrived.

*Sshrrrkk*

His reaction was immediate. A strangled gasp — not one of pain — escaped from his lips, blood staining his shirt in a dark, and spreading bloom.

"You bitch!"

She ignored the woman's outburst, focusing instead on the trajectory of the next attack. A slight movement at the edge of her vision drew her attention to the presence of another. A female child — blonde, barely older than ten. Bonesaw. Biothinker. Murderer. Victim. Despite her innocent appearance, Acheron knew that she was no different than the rest.

The girl's smile had long since faded, the light of innocence replaced by something far darker in her eyes. Cold, frigid wind swept across the area as she flicked at her wrist, unleashing upon the field a group of biomechanical spiders. Small and vicious, they skittered about, spindly legs twitching with malevolent intent before a scream tore itself out of the girl's throat.

'...'

Without nary a sound, the Emanator extended her hand, crimson lightning crackling to life at her fingertips. Electric serpents darted forward, lashing through the tide of blackened steel. Each strike was accompanied by the hiss of fried circuitry, leaving behind an acrid stench akin to the aftermath of a storm; the spiders twitched and sparked, their mechanical bodies seizing before collapsing into heaps of smoldering scrap.

"Stand down, Child," firm, yet soft, Acheron's voice cut through the din, calm demeanor unbroken even as she dodged another barrage of glass. "I do not wish to hurt you."

"Shut up!" Her response was a high-pitched snarl, her face twisted in fury. The Biothinker hurled a scalpel in Acheron's direction, a blur of silver cutting through the air.

Tilting her head just enough for the blade to miss by a hair's breadth, she allowed herself a moment of detached observation. The girl's rage was raw... unrefined — the anger of a child lashing out in fear and frustration. It mattered little. The Emanator continued to move with a fluid precision, a graceful dance interspersed with brief moments of stillness. Her eyes flicked from one threat to another, noting the positions of her foes and the tools at their disposal as they began to join in.

'—four, five, six.'

Out of nine targets, six... no, seven were present — less than expected, yet enough to pose as a challenge, lacking as it was.

Of course, things would have been different had she approached the fight with the intent to maim and kill. Capturing them, however? Now that presented her with very limited options... options that were reliable, but limited nonetheless.

Fortunately, she did possess the means to subdue without excessive bloodshed — remnants of a past long forgotten. In this case, the utilization of a certain element — one that is cruel in its unyielding nature, yet merciful in its preservation of life — and while her control over said element was far from perfect, it was more than sufficient for her needs.

Her grip on the dark-haired man loosened, and she flung him to the side, the force of the throw carrying him directly into the path of the woman in red. Burnscar. Regardless, a quick pivot followed by a burst of energy allowed Acheron to send herself away from a rather gruesome rat and into the air, glowing orbs of purple narrowing as she set her gaze back to the diminutive figure.

"You must have realized by now that you have no prospect of victory." She landed softly, her body twisting just as a deafening blast split the air; shrapnel and smoke filled the space she had occupied a split second prior, the pellets tearing through stacks of wooden crates. "Will you not reconsider?"

"I said, shut up!"

Spinning on her heels, Acheron weaved around a volley of razor shards, her movements a blur of motion before the rat-like abomination lunged at her back.

"Is that so?" Loud, sickening squelches echoed the moment her strikes connected with decayed muscle — rotting flesh peeling away to reveal sinew and bone. Like hot knives would rancid butter, they sheared through the limbs, sending sprays of dark, congealed blood in arcs of maroon. "Then you leave me no choice..."

Traces of violet began to crackle around her form, the air around her shimmering with raw power. One moment, she flickered from one spot to another — a streak of lightning faster than the eye can follow; in the next, she struck with pinpoint precision, her hand wreathed in an aura of blue as she reached towards her unsuspecting foe.

"... be still." Her palm came to a rest upon the child's back, a pulse of cold emanating from the point of contact.

*Crrrisshh*

It was over as quickly as it had begun — a thin layer at first, and then thicker, turning flesh and fabric into crystalline structures. Like a living thing, it spread across the girl's body, scream of defiance cut short as the frost started to climb higher; her skin turned pale, her movements slowed, and within a fraction of a second, she was encased in a flawless sculpture of ice — a look of shock and terror forever preserved on her face.

"... that was... a bit excessive, don't you think?"

"Oh, I wouldn't say that; after all, those people are quite resilient. It was either that or she resort to a more... permanent, alternative." Perched on a vantage point, they all watched as the Self-Annihilator proceeded to deliver a rather devastating blow to her foes. Burnscar and Jack Slash. Like broken puppets, they skidded across the ground, their bodies crashing and rolling only for them to stagger to their feet mere moments later. "See? Like I said; resilient."

"Hmm... I'll take your words for it, then." The elder Halovian responded, eyebrow raised just as an explosion rocked the distance. "My opinion remains, however."

"Don't be like that, Brother," opined his sister, her voice punctuated by the sound of another shockwave rippling through the air. "I'm sure Miss Acheron is doing her best."

Sunday's smile twitched...

"... yes... I have no doubt that she has the situation well under control." A sigh escaped from his lips, eyes shifting to the place where a section of the wall had collapsed. "Credit where it is due; at least she tried to keep the damage to a minimum."

Indeed, Black Swan herself would admit that the woman's approach was impressively efficient, despite its brutal elegance... no, perhaps calling it brutal would be an oversimplification, given the restraint she exercised. After all, she knew that the emissary was more than capable of wreaking havoc if she so desired; the sheer scale of destruction that would have ensued had the Emanator choose not to hold herself back would have been nothing short of catastrophic. Besides, it wasn't like they ever planned on killing the villains... although, the memories she gleaned certainly did not help in that matter.

And truly, what a wretched thing they were...

Torturing a child to the point her mind breaks just so they could derive some sort of sadistic entertainment, grinning and laughing like lunatics the entire time?

The word 'abhorrent' cannot even begin to capture the depth of their depravity...

Granted, a paltry few of their number could and should be excused for their actions, what with their choices not being their own. The rest? Well... though callous, even Black Swan agreed that some people are just better off dead.

Shaking her head to rid herself of such thoughts, she returned her attention back to the ongoing confrontation; shattered windows, crumbling walls, scorched earth, twisted metal, and splintered wood marked the extent of the destruction. All things considered, the damage so far has been relatively contained — thanks in no small part to both her and a certain Halovian's intervention — and while these were by no means minor inconveniences, they definitely paled in comparison to the potential devastation that could have unfolded.

"On that note, we... wouldn't have to recompense anyone for all this, would we?" Asked the Diva, feathery appendages twitching ever so slightly behind her ears.

"I don't think that will be an issue," Sunday replied, his tone light. "It's not like this place was occupied to begin with. Nor was it in a good condition when we arrived. Besides, if it comes down to it, then we can just put all the blame on the villains, since—"

*BOOM*

"—technically, they were the ones who initiated the hostilities."

"Justifying our actions as a simple case of us defending ourselves, hmm? The public is likely to accept that reasoning. The local government, however..." A soft smile tugged at the corner of her lips, its edges tinged with hints of amusement. "Well, worse case, they might demand some form of restitution, possibly by having the bounties deducted. Not the most likely outcome, considering that it would set a bad precedent."

"We will just have to deal with it as it comes."

"That... doesn't really fill me with confidence." Robin remarked, fingers scratching at her cheek.

"We do what we must." The small laugh that followed was almost bitter — melancholic — a somber look settling in his orbs of amber as he gestured towards rows and rows of bodies in the far distance. Old and young. Male and female. Each one was cut open, experimented upon and twisted in various unnatural ways. Honestly, Black Swan couldn't help but be surprised that any of them were still alive. "To be frank, I am more concerned about what we should do with those people."

"Contact the authorities and have them rescued and treated?" She suggested with an arch of her eyebrow. "Other than that? Not much, I'm afraid." Shrugging her shoulders, she allowed herself a wry chuckle. "Still... if you were to ask me, then I believe Lady Annihilator over there would have a much better chance in saving those people."

"And you think it's fine for them to just... stay there?"

"Given the circumstances, yes." She nodded at the barrier she had erected earlier — a simple measure meant to serve as a shield. Just as expected, none of the combatants save for the Emanator seemed to be aware of its existence. "As I have mentioned earlier, there is little to no need for you to worry about their safety, though how many would live long enough to be rescued, I do not know."

"... still... they must be in pain, aren't they?" The younger Halovian inquired, her eyes filled with a mix of sorrow and determination.

"Robin..."

"Please, Brother; you know I won't back down no matter what you say." All that she earned with her answer was a sigh, one that conveyed both resignation and exasperation. "This is something that I must... no, this is something that I need to do."

"That doesn't mean—"

*CRASH*

His voice trailed off as a woman in a glass-like dress slammed against the floor a few meters away from their position. Bloodied and ragged, she picked herself up and ran towards the edge of the roof, a snarl tearing itself out of her mouth as she launched herself back into the fray.

.

.

.

"... fine, but only after the fight is over."

"Thank you, Brother," a smile — tender and resolute — graced the girl's lips. "I knew you would understand."

"It's not like I have much of a choice." Rather than dwelling on his sister's decision, the elder Halovian simply huffed, his focus returning to the ground. "Regardless... six out of nine." He scanned at the scene, arms crossed in contemplation. "A shame, really; it would have been so much easier if we could have gotten them all at the same time."

*Crackle, Crackle*

A symphony of thunderbolts reverberated through the air, the sound that echoed accompanied by a subtle shift in the atmosphere.

*BOOM*

"Look at the bright side; at least a few of them can be counted among those with the highest bounties. And who knows? Maybe we'll get the chance to meet the other three. I myself am quite interested in this Siberian person, if only to— oh." A rather pungent smell then assaulted her senses, causing her to cover her nose in distaste. "My... what a stench; quite unpleasant, is it not?"

"Indeed..." Answered the equally unimpressed Halovians.

Her eyes flicked to the side, noting the twisted form of Crawler emerging from another wreckage for the... sixth... seventh time now? Or was it eighth?

The creature seemed eager, his grotesque grin widening as his sizzling flesh slowly re-knit itself — always adapting, always evolving. Black Swan had seen his kind before — beings that thrived on chaos and destruction, reckless brutes believing themselves invincible. More often than not?

... they fell just as easily as a pest would any other insect.

Taking a measured breath, she steadied herself, her gaze shifting back towards the Emanator once more.

Gouts of flames — courtesy of the red-haired woman — continued to pour down her form, and yet, never once did she falter; the element seemed to slide off her skin, leaving her untouched while the ground around her burned and cracked under the intense heat.

Turning herself into streaks of lightning, the emissary of Nihility danced through the battlefield. Like a vengeful specter, she weaved between attacks, her movements a blur of calculated precision before she arrived in front of her newly designated target. Bladed limbs slashed through empty air as she struck with pinpoint accuracy; a slicing motion severed his arm, while a sharp pivot shattered his kneecap. Each impact from her blows sent her foe reeling, his shell crumbling under the onslaught. A final sweep followed by a devastating strike launched him high into the air, the kick being done with such a force that it propelled him like a catapult would a ragdoll.

The Memokeeper gazed upward, intent on following his trajectory—

*Whoooooosh*

—only to lean slightly to the side as a ball half the size of a car wheel sailed past her.

Black Swan didn't flinch, but she did blink when she got a good look at the very, very familiar object. White and dented, it left a trail through the air, streaks of red splattering around it as it smashed and embedded itself into the surface of a nearby wall.

"... huh."

She turned her attention back to the heart of the conflict, just in time to see a massive pillar of frost erupt from the ground — a black lump pierced on its tip as it began to grow and reach for the clouds.

"Remind me; why didn't just freeze them all like she did the child again?"

"Hmm... I'm not sure... although, if I were to hazard a guess, then perhaps she's trying to indulge in the moment — venting out her frustrations or something. Maybe. Those people are not exactly her favorites, after all. And for good reason too." She chuckled softly. "I mean, I certainly would enjoy punishing them, if only for a short while... at least, you won't hear me complaining if some of them actually met their untimely demise. In fact, I think it would probably be best if they do."

"Ah... that bad?"

"Like you wouldn't believe..." She confirmed.

They all watched as the Emanator cut into a wave of flames; unscathed and untouched, she weaved under the barrage that sang through the air like a deadly choir — her form a blur of electric light, zipping from one spot to another with an impossible speed. Barely a second passed and she already closed the distance with the leader of the Nine, knee driving upward with a blinding force. His head snapped back, blood spraying from his nose and creating with it a crimson arc. Still, there was no time for him to react any further. In one fluid motion, she seized the man's arm; a twist of her wrist and his joint gave way — a pop and a curse confirming the dislocation.

"Well... seeing that she stopped holding back as much, perhaps it wouldn't be long before the fight is over." Shockwaves spread through the concrete, creating with them a spiderweb of cracks as the emissary slammed the man's head to the ground — the sound of the impact drowned by the zap of lightning that followed.

... he didn't get up.

"Right... I suppose that settles it. That's... around three and a half minutes. Not that I expected any different, what with her being an emissary of Nihility." Shaking his head, the elder Halovian adjusted his posture. "Still, it feels odd, standing on the sideline doing nothing while she handles everything."

That earned him a laugh from both her and his sister, although the Diva's was more of a shy giggle.

Regardless, the man spoke true; there was no doubt that it was only a matter of time before the rest of the Nine were subdued. With their leader incapacitated, the battle would likely come to an end. It was a conclusion foregone, one that even the most inept of observers could predict... that is, until a boy suddenly arrived and sent the Emanator into a world of gray.

She knew that something was wrong the moment her surroundings turned monochrome. The way the vibrant hues drained from the world, colors leaving everything muted and lifeless... there was an eerie stillness in the air. And it was fast, the changes... much faster than what she expected. Closer to the speed of thought if she were to make a comparison. Not as swift as she herself could be, of course, but it did catch her off guard...

... which was probably the entire reason as to why they had chosen not to reveal themselves up until now.

Smart, considering that they all stood next to no chance of escaping unscathed, let alone victorious. Unlike the other six who engaged her directly in an open battle, the seventh had opted for a different strategy; they had observed the fight from a distance — a calculated move, most likely meant to assess her capabilities — and as such, she was content to leave them be. No reason to escalate the situation when they themselves were not so ready to commit. That they would actually show their hand was a blunder on her part, and one that she intended to rectify.

'... as if it wasn't embarrassing enough.' Her thought was accompanied by a sigh, hand moving to brush at a stray lock of hair before she turned her gaze sideways.

From beyond the veil of monochrome was a child — Gray Boy, her mind supplied — their eyes meeting if only for a brief moment. He then shifted his attention towards the body of his fallen leader, his foot casually nudging at the unconscious figure.

"So this is your limit?" The words were spoken more as a mocking taunt — a smirk of disdain forming on his face. "Pathetic; twenty-two years and this is all you amount to? Might as well spare me the trouble and just end it here."

Now that was unexpected...

While she did anticipate some degree of arrogance, the sheer audacity of the remark remained quite a surprise, especially when one considered his own status as a subordinate. That the other members did nothing to intervene and simply watched the interaction between the two spoke volumes of their internal dynamics.

Had the Slaughterhouse Nine only ever been a facade of unity? Was there a discontent within their ranks? Or did the villain simply not care for his supposed leader?

Regardless, for all the information they had, scant details were known about the boy, with only fragments from various encounters providing limited insight into his abilities and motives. Of course, the fact that he possessed a powerful set of skills was clear; their exact nature or the limit of his power, however, was not fully understood.

'... how troublesome.'

Stepping forward to what appeared to be the edge of a rippling distortion, she noted the odd sensation of temporal displacement. Curiosity piqued, she extended her hand, fingers reaching amidst the distorted space—

—only for her to return back to where she stood mere moments ago.

Fascinated, and more than just a little intrigued, she surveyed her surroundings with an arch of her eyebrow — orbs of purple scanning at the frozen landscape as she began to piece the puzzle. She stepped to the side, only to find herself back in her original position; again and again, she repeated the motion — each going to a different direction — and yet, despite her attempts, never once did they fail to bring her back to the starting point.

'... some sort of temporal displacement?' She wondered before shaking her head. 'No... a time loop, then?'

The repeated resets, the unwavering stillness in her immediate surroundings, the seamless returns to her original spot, and the absence of any visible anchor points offered enough clues; not much, but enough for her to make an educated guess.

Still... did the child truly believe that he could trap her in a time loop, thinking that it would've been enough to render him victorious? That he could contain her indefinitely within this... flimsy construct of his?

.

.

.

... what a foolish notion.

With a certainty born of experience, and a calm that only mastery could bring, she reached for the fabric of time itself — fingers latching and digging into the invisible threads. Her attempt to unravel the loop went unnoticed, and yet, unknown to even Acheron herself — in a realm beyond mortal comprehension, where all that exists converged — an entity bearing the mark of a sigil long thought lost observed her efforts. It pulsed and shimmered, its stellar aura brightening as it looked upon the Emanator with a timeless gaze — a silent nod of approval, acknowledging her unwitting access to its primary authority.

Drawing upon her deep understanding of time, she visualized the weave of the loop, finding the critical junctures where threads of temporal intertwined. With a deft manipulation, she isolated the tangled points, feeling the tension within the fabric. And pulled.

*Crack*

A sound similar to that of a shattering glass echoed through the air. Reverberating with an eerie clarity, it drew the attention of those present in the field.

Like a web caught in a storm, the loop collapsed inward, cohesion breaking apart — fissures spreading outward in all directions. Colors bled back into the world, their vibrancy returning as the anomaly crumbled — the monochrome dissolving into splinters of reality.

'... and that's that.'

Silence fell — a heavy blanket save for the distant crackling of embers.

Glancing to the side, she scrutinized at her remaining foes. Some cast nervous glances her way, surprise betraying the facade they tried to maintain; cold, purple orbs continued to scan at the field, catching glimpses of grudging admiration from a few others.

Poised, yet relaxed, she observed their reactions with a detached curiosity — her attention flickering from individual to individual before finally settling on the one shrouded in gray. Seconds stretched as she regarded the child-like villain with an apparent disinterest, the calm in her gaze belying the storm within. Unlike her, however, the boy seemed to be particularly distraught by the turn of events...

"B-but..." His eyes widened, mouth snapping shut, only to open again in a frown. "You can't do that..."

"... I just did."

His response was to raise another looping field...

... and she ripped it down just as easily as she did the one before.

"... that's not fair." He voiced another complaint, though the look on her face showed him exactly what she thought of his notion of fairness.

"I take it you won't surrender?" She inquired, voice as serene as the untouched surface of a frozen lake. Nonetheless, it was a question that need not be answered, for the response she received came in the form of a rather high-pitched laughter. "I see..." Her words trailed off, eyes flitting to the naked woman located a short distance away — figure crouching near the icy sculpture of Bonesaw. "... if that is your choice, then do your worst."

And that marked the resumption of hostilities.

*Whooosshh*

A step to the left allowed her to evade a barrage of glass, the shards whizzing past her face like a deadly confetti. From her peripheral vision, she caught sight of Burnscar's flames, prompting a swift dash forward; a single thought is all that it took for the tendrils of fire to dissipate into harmless embers. In an instant, she closed the distance and struck — impacts followed by the cracks of bones. The woman's flames sputtered out, but that did not mean she was out of the fight. With a savagery born of necessity, Acheron twisted, spinning low while her enemy spun high; her heel slammed into Burnscar's knee, the joint bending unnaturally before snapping with a sickening crunch.

Screams of rage erupted from the pale-skinned woman, her eyes narrowing into fiery slits of hatred the moment she seized her by the collar. She struggled against her grip, spitting flames and firing concussive blasts in a desperate attempt to break free, only to find herself airborne — body hurtling towards the nearby warehouse.

"Burnscar!"

A shimmer in the air signaled at the formation of another loop, and with a mere gesture, she shredded it apart, the threads unraveling before they even solidified. Fractals of gray scattered into nothingness, their dissolution a fleeting memory as heavy, and rhythmic thuds alerted her to the return of a beast.

*Bang, Bang, Bang*

Whirling around, she dodged under the incoming projectiles, their metallic form gleaming in the fractured light. It was a deadly dance... one made for both precision and speed. In a fluid, seamless motion, she sidestepped the follow-up shots, a graceful somersault carrying her over Crawler's hulking form — his massive claws slicing through the empty space where she had stood moments before.

Her boots touched the ground in a show of perfect balance, feet pivoting around a stack of metal crates before crackles of lighting started to dance around her fingers. Long and elegant, it shimmered into existence, a weapon as old as time itself — the slight curvature hinting at its lethal grace.

"Stay still, you slippery Bitch!" Came the descending voice of a glittering bird, toes barely brushing against the debris as she whipped the air into a swirling storm of razor edges. Her eyes gleamed with a manic light as she manipulated the glass, transforming them to a thousand tiny blades.

The Emanator met her gaze with a look of calm indifference, a serene expression on her face as she deflected the attacks. A parry here, a dodge there, and a riposte every now and then. She flowed around the assault with ease, but the woman's determination only seemed to increase.

Nevertheless, it was one thing to be persistent; it was another to be reckless. For a long-range attacker to willingly engage in close combat? Foolish. No finesse, only raw aggression. The villain's attempt was desperate at best, and suicidal at worst, especially for someone as inexperienced as she was. Sloppy and clumsy, each strike more erratic than the last, her lack of skill evident in every overextended lunge and poorly timed swipe.

'... pitiful.'

A single wave of Acheron's hand and the concrete froze over; it spread rapidly, climbing up the walls of nearby containers. Like creeping vines, they coiled and twisted, icy tendrils hardening into crystalline spikes in the midst of a frigid wasteland — glass falling and turning into chunks of white. With a flick of her wrist, the woman was lifted off her feet and slammed against a box of yellow — crimson liquid splattering as spears of rime pierced at her flesh. Groan became gurgled chokes, a death rattle that would've faded if not for the blast of azure that trapped her in a prison of absolute zero.

'... that's five.'

Regardless, while the bird's defeat was significant, it did not deter the remaining members of the Nine from pressing their assault...

Detecting the slightest hint of temporal disturbance, she flickered away, avoiding another looping field while simultaneously ripping it apart. The thumping sound that followed signaled at the approach of a lumpy beast; she leapt into the air seconds before he burst through one of the containers, metal and wood splintering under his weight. Wind tousled at her hair, the scent of rust and oil mixed with the sharp tang of blood as she spotted a glint to her right.

With an almost languid ease, she twisted her body, arm raised to intercept the oncoming threat. Claws of obsidian flashed, an array of deadly implements aimed at her flank.

*BOOM*

Long, sharp edges clashed with her sheathed blade, the impact resonating like a thunderclap, locking them together in a struggle of power. Their collision sent ripples through the air, generating with it a shockwave that tore through the battlefield like a hurricane would a forest.

The Siberian's eyes widened in surprise, unable to mask the shock that flickered across her features. Another silence, another impossibility. It fell over the battlefield, a tense, breathless stillness gripping the heart of most that bore witness.

"... an illusion?" Her voice broke through the quiet, senses recognizing the telltale signs of deception. It was a revelation unforeseen, one that sparked a tightly clenched smile on her face. The naked woman's reaction, however, was anything but. "So that's how it is..."

Without giving her foe a chance to respond, she twisted in mid-air, leveraging the Siberian's own force against her. A simple maneuver allowed the Emanator to properly angle her body; she planted her foot on the woman's shoulder, using the momentum to propel herself further upward. Higher and higher, she spun with a dancer's grace, a deadly ballet of elegance as she arced through the air — eyes locking onto her remaining targets.

'Since that was the case...'

Her grip over her weapon tightened, muscles coiling in anticipation. Time slowed — her perception sharpening to a razor's edge — every heartbeat a thunderclap, every second an eternity.

*Click*

With a slight push of her thumb, she loosened her blade from its scabbard, feeling the subtle resistance giving way as steel began to reveal itself. Her fingers wrapped around the hilt, cradling a grip bathed in the deepest of blacks.

"On the still waters of oblivion, I guide the wandering souls."

The words echoed through the stillness — whispers of loss sung in the hallowed halls of Nihility. Her voice hummed and thrummed, a melancholic resonance that held within its core a tale of a mournful lament; orbs of purple burned with an intensity that could pierce even the darkest void, the weight of her declaration crashing upon the world like a tidal wave.

*Schlink*

"Stream forth — the gleam of old blades."