The halls of the Citadel hummed with the quiet drone of multiversal tracking nodes. Screens flickered with universe data, and dimensional graphs streamed in chaotic loops. Zalthorion stood before the main terminal, arms crossed, gaze deep in thought.
Dr. Wagner adjusted his glasses beside him, glancing at the readings. "Still no trace of Nyxia in the last few decillion universes," he muttered, frustration mounting.
Vidarath, already half-phased into a ripple of rift energy, called back casually, "I'm heading to the 180 decillionth MHA shard. He better not have made friends with another talking school again."
Just as Vidarath vanished into the rift, the heavy chamber doors creaked open behind them.
It was Azura.
Elegant, regal... and radiating an intense, obsessive energy.
Her eyes locked onto Zalthorion with that same dangerous glint. "Dr. Wagner," she said sweetly, "Could you please watch over Marisov for a while? I need to speak with Zalthorion... privately."
Wagner's posture stiffened immediately. "Ja… of course," he said, voice suddenly tight. He gently took Marisov's hand, who tilted his head curiously but obediently followed.
Zalthorion shot Wagner a warning glance, one that silently screamed don't you dare leave me here. Wagner, the brave doctor who had faced Exo rampages and rogue timelines… merely gave a subtle look of pity before exiting and closing the doors behind him.
Azura raised a hand.
A shimmer rippled across the chamber an unbreakable seal of layered aetheric locks and reality anchors.
Zalthorion blinked. "Azura?"
Before he could finish, Azura was in front of him. She pressed forward, pushing him back into the armchair he'd been sitting on. It tipped, and he landed with a soft thud on the floor but Azura didn't let up.
She loomed above him, her hair cascading like a shadowy veil, her eyes gleaming with feverish affection.
Whispers spilled from her lips not words, but fragments of feeling, echoes of obsession, barely coherent.
Zalthorion, stunned, could only mutter, "…Azura?"
Her expression softened, but her eyes did not lose their edge.
"I've been so… lonely without you," she whispered, leaning closer. "You search for your agents, you cross multiverses, you give your time… to everyone except me."
Her fingers brushed his chest. "Why don't you give me that same attention, Zalthorion?" she said, voice almost pleading, but lined with something far more dangerous.
He tensed, unsure of whether to move, speak, or freeze.
Elsewhere in the Citadel…
Dr. Wagner walked briskly down the corridor, Marisov's tiny hand held firmly in his own. Despite the scientist's stiff shoulders and hurried pace, Marisov kept up easily his small steps light, thoughtful.
They soon arrived at a quiet observation deck overlooking Evolto City's artificial sunrise, the glow of the Cerian Sun slowly cresting over the skyline. Wagner, clearly distracted, muttered something about data syncing and mutiverse pulse fluctuations, pulling up a glowing display on his wrist console.
Marisov, meanwhile, leaned against the glass wall, watching golden rays filter across floating towers and gravity-woven parks.
"Uncle Wagner," Marisov finally asked, his voice soft, "What do you think they're doing?"
Wagner blinked, looked down from his display, then gave an awkward shrug. "Ach… probably just… some grown-up discussions. You know how Azura gets. Don't worry about it."
Marisov sighed, pressing his cheek to the cold glass. "You know… I've been watching families lately."
Wagner paused.
Marisov continued. "When I see a child laughing with their mom and dad… I feel something. I want that. I have Dad… and he's the best. He loves me."
He turned to look at Wagner now, eyes unusually heavy for a six-year-old.
"But sometimes… sometimes I wish I had a mama too."
Wagner's brow creased. He knelt down to Marisov's level.
"And Azura," Marisov said, looking away again, "She's a little scary sometimes… but also really nice to me. She gives me books and sings strange lullabies when Dad's away. I really wish she could be my mama…"
Dr. Wagner's heart twisted. He didn't know what to say.
After a long moment, he gently put a hand on Marisov's head, ruffling his hair.
"Marisov… you've got a strange family," he said with a soft, rare smile. "But you're also deeply loved. Zalthorion… he carries worlds for you. And Azura… she might be unpredictable, but her heart has always beat for you both in a way no one can explain."
Marisov smiled slightly, comforted.
Then, after a pause, he added innocently, "I hope she's not sitting on him again."
Dr. Wagner immediately choked on his tea substitute.
Back to Azura and Zalthorion
Azura's eyes glittered with an unsettling mix of obsession and longing, her gaze never leaving Zalthorion's as she pressed closer. "I've been so lonely without you," she whispered, her voice dripping with a possessive edge. "When you're off chasing after your agents, I'm left behind… jealous, aching for your attention."
Slowly, deliberately, her hands began peeling away the layers of his clothes, each motion both tender and demanding. Zalthorion's breath hitched as her lips trailed down his neck, warm and wet, her tongue teasing his skin in a possessive claim.
Her fingers curled around his jaw, gripping him firmly as she forced his face upward to meet hers. Her eyes blazed with a yandere intensity dangerous, desperate, beautiful. Without hesitation, she crushed her lips to his, her kiss fierce and unyielding, as if to mark him hers in every possible way.
Zalthorion struggled for a moment, the weight of her obsession pressing down on him, but in that kiss was also a haunting plea her craving for connection, for possession, for a love twisted by loneliness.
As Azura's lips pressed fiercely against his, Zalthorion's mind flooded with memories sharp, vivid, and bittersweet.
He remembered the first time he saw her as an Exo-Guard commander, fierce and determined, yet vulnerable beneath her armor. How he had saved her from a deadly mission gone wrong, and how, after that, she had volunteered to tutor and care for Marisov, stepping into a role that softened her hardened exterior.
The image of Marisov's childish drawings surfaced a crudely drawn picture full of uneven lines and bright colors, where a small figure labeled "papa" with an arrow pointed at Zalthorion, and another figure labeled "mama" with an arrow pointing at Azura. That innocent depiction encapsulated so much hope, family, a future.
He recalled the times he'd stumbled upon her secret shrine, a quiet place filled with tokens and memories of him, and how those moments revealed her deep, complicated feelings. He saw the warmth in the way they'd spent days together her patience while Marisov ran through fields of flowers, laughing and playing.
And then, the memory of one night, eighteen days ago, struck him hardest how, in a quiet, fragile moment of passion, they had lain tangled on his bed in almost the exact same position as now, their breath mingling, hearts laid bare. How Marisov had walked in on them, eyes wide and innocent. How Zalthorion had gently told his son to go back to sleep, protecting his childhood even in moments of adult vulnerability.
That night, their closeness, their tenderness was raw and unspoken but powerful. Now, as Azura's kiss deepened, the weight of those memories pressed on him, mixing desire with caution, love with the looming shadow of what this obsession could mean.
As Azura's lips moved against Zalthorion's, a storm raged within her half obsession, half desperate longing.
She fought with herself, the possessive yandere inside clawing to dominate and claim him utterly, while a fragile part of her trembled beneath the surface, fearing rejection. She had built this façade of confidence and control, but the truth was raw and vulnerable: loneliness gnawed at her, sharper than any weapon.
Every moment apart from Zalthorion felt like an endless void, and seeing him now, so near, stirred an ache she couldn't silence. The memories of their past the battles fought side by side, the quiet tutoring sessions with Marisov, the stolen moments of tenderness they all collided into a chaotic flood of emotion.
She wanted to be more than just a commander, a caretaker, or a shadow in his life. She wanted to be his his partner, his family, the mother figure Marisov longed for.
But beneath her fierce exterior, fear lurked: fear that this obsession might drive him away, that her passion would suffocate instead of heal. As her hands cupped his face, trembling slightly, a silent question haunted her was this love or possession? And could she bear the answer if it was anything less than forever?
At the Orowyrm Hatchery, the warm hum of incubators and the occasional chirps of newborn wyrmlings filled the air. Marisov giggled as a baby Orowyrm nuzzled his palm, its soft obsidian-scaled snout cold to the touch. Dr. Wagner stood nearby, hands behind his back, watching the child with a faint, rare softness in his eyes.
Then suddenly, Dr. Wagner's posture stiffened.
His eyes narrowed. He felt it a subtle tremor in the Voidbound link he kept tethered to Zalthorion. It wasn't danger. No... it was something else. Something intimate. Deep. A wave of raw emotion: longing, desire, history, and something that could only be called surrender.
His lips curved into a knowing smirk.
He leaned closer to the incubator and whispered, so only he could hear:
"Heh... Glückwunsch, kleiner Marisov... Du bekommst bald eine Mama.""Congratulations, little Marisov... you're getting a mama soon."
The baby Orowyrm chirped again and crawled closer to Marisov's side, sensing the boy's pure joy as he played.
Dr. Wagner glanced upward with an amused sigh.
"Finally," he muttered.
"Took them long enough."
Back in Zalthorion's private study, the air hung heavy with heat and silence. He and Azura sat close too close their foreheads pressed together, breaths mingling, lips tingling from the kiss they had just shared.
Their eyes met, emotions unsaid flickering in the space between them: longing, confusion, possession, and years of tangled loyalty.
Azura leaned in once more, her lips brushing his neck but this time, she left her mark. A sharp but quick bite. Zalthorion inhaled sharply, not out of pain, but surprise.
She pulled back, eyes gleaming, and softly brushed her thumb over the red mark forming on his neck. "Perfect," she whispered, a pleased smile spreading across her lips.
Then, as if nothing had happened, she stood. With a slow, elegant motion, she turned toward the door, her silver and black uniform fluttering behind her. A single gesture with her hand, and the seal on the door dissolved, a soft chime ringing out.
But before stepping out, Azura turned her head slightly over her shoulder. Her gaze was fierce, possessive but also deeply vulnerable.
"Remember, Zalthorion… you belong to me, and I belong to you. That hasn't changed.""Once you find Nyxia… come to my room. I'll be waiting."
With that, she stepped into the hallway, her stride confident and fluid, hips swaying with a sensual grace. The door slid shut behind her with a final, quiet hiss.
Zalthorion remained seated for a moment longer, head tilted back, staring at the ceiling silent, processing, conflicted.
Then finally, he closed his eyes and whispered to no one in particular:
"…This complicates things."
The door slid open with a soft hiss.
Dr. Wagner stood there, arms crossed, one eyebrow raised, the ever-present glint of smug amusement in his eyes.
Zalthorion was just rising from the couch hair tousled, collar crooked, and a very visible red mark blooming on the side of his neck.
Wagner's smirk deepened.
"Well, well… when's the wedding? And should I start planning the bachelor party? I'll even let you choose the best man though we both know it should be me."
Zalthorion gave him the flattest stare in the multiverse.
"…I hate you."
Wagner chuckled, brushing imaginary dust off his coat.
"Of course you do. That's why you keep me around."
Zalthorion rubbed his face, sighing as he walked past.
"Please tell me Marisov didn't see Azura leaving."
Wagner followed, grinning.
"Don't worry. He was too busy playing with an Orowyrm. Though…" he leaned in conspiratorially "he did say he hopes Azura becomes his mama someday."
Zalthorion paused mid-step.
Wagner clapped him on the back.
"No pressure."
Vidarath was running.
"Fuck! Fuck! Shit! Shit!" he cursed, breath ragged as a group of furious female heroes and villains closed in around him, eyes blazing with determination and… other intentions.
You see, in this universe, the male population had gone extinct. So naturally, their plan was to breed him.
Vidarath's mind raced, heart pounding, as he darted into an alley and slumped behind a dumpster, thinking, Finally. Safe. I'm safe.
But no. No, he wasn't.
A calm, oddly cheerful narrator's voice broke through the chaos: "He thought he was safe. He wasn't."
Vidarath shivered, wishing he could disappear.
He looked up nervously as the raucous footsteps of his pursuers grew louder.
"And now… he waits."
Waits for Zalthorion and Dr. Wagner to open a rift back home, because they had confiscated his MTD, his ticket out of this nightmare.
Suddenly, the group of relentless heroes rounded the corner, just a breath away from pouncing.
And then like magic a shimmering rift opened.
Vidarath leapt through it with a triumphant yell.
"Thankfully, Dr. Wagner has a great sense of timing."
The narrator was about to continue, when…
A sudden, loud door slam echoed.
"Huh?"
The narrator blinked. Confused.
Then, from the background, a furious voice cut through:
"You fuck-ass bitch! You will pay! I nearly got drained! I'm an innocent Christian boy! I haven't even lost my virginity yet! I don't want something so loveless!"
The sound of rapid footsteps closing in was followed by a loud thwack!
A jump kick connected squarely with the narrator's face.
Vidarath stumbled through the rift, chest heaving, sweat dripping down his forehead. He turned around, catching sight of Zalthorion and Dr. Wagner standing just beyond the shimmering portal.
"Hey! What the hell are you guys doing?" Vidarath shouted, voice raw and breathless. "I've been shouting at you to open this for two hours!"
Zalthorion looked calm but a little amused, while Dr. Wagner merely smirked and shook his head.
"We were testing your patience," Zalthorion replied with a slight smile.
Vidarath groaned, collapsing against the wall. "Next time, just open the damn rift when I'm actually in trouble, alright?"