Mayera's squad set up their base of operations near the absolute center of universe Xenos-Zehod-Kedo-Onve-0-3-44-4. The center was empty; nothing was present, stretching endlessly. It lacked galaxies and conventional stars; the smell of ozone was now gone, yet the same heat-smell was present, clinging to the void.
Heliterna sat in his wheelchair close to supplies, watching over the squad, drinking a beverage E.K. forced upon him long ago; he likes it, it's called Gahali. It tastes like old times. E.K. gave it eons ago as a farewell 'gift' when he gave up the position of Nova.
He felt the years settle in his bones, the silent ache where his legs used to be; he felt old... A dry chuckle escaped him. Old indeed.
A young fulgor approached, boots scraping the non-existent ground. He raised his head, offering a small, weathered smile. The lines around his eyes deepening
"What is it, Miss Fulgor?" He put his drink away and gently looked at the young custodes.
"Well, sir," she shifted, a hint of awkwardness in her stance. "I found out I am not really needed over there." She waved away the rest of the squad building up barriers. "So, I wanted to ask if you need anything," her eyes wide and earnest looking at his face.
He chuckled, the sound warm and raspy. "No, I am al-"
The words died in his throat.
The heat vanished. Snuffed out.
An impossible, bone-deep cold slammed down. It wasn't just temperature; it was an absence, a sucking void that leached warmth from bone.
The 'air' crystallized around them. Heliterna saw the young Fulgor's next breath exit her, thick and white as steam, instantly frosting the air before her lips.
Her body locked, a violent shiver all across her frame, teeth chattering uncontrollably. A sharp gasp escaped her as she looked around.
Across the makeshift base, the Custodes reacted as one. Breath plumed in ghostly clouds. Mayera's voice cut the sudden silence, sharp as a blade on ice. "Contact! Weapons ready! Defensive formation NOW!"
They all unsheathed their weapons, from swords and axes to staffs and chains; they were ready. Their body filled with what humans call adrenaline, pupils dilated, swallowing their irises.
Breath came fast and shallow, mist in the freezing 'air', yet unnervingly controlled. A hyper-alert stillness, like a predator sensing the unseen.
Bang.
The sound wasn't all that loud. But it was final. A muffled, wet crunch of flesh tearing apart, followed by a heavu dull thud of armored plate hitting... nothing.
A Custodes near the perimeter barrier simply folded, collapsing like a puppet whos strings were cut. No cry. Just the sudden, emptiness of death.
Bang.
Another one. Identical. Another Custodes, turning to scan the void, twitched violently. A spray of blood-crimson ice crystals erupted from a sudden fist sized hole in his chest before he too folded without sound.
Two down.
No origin.
No projectile trail.
Only impact.
Annihilation.
Instinct flared, ancient and unthinking. Heliterna's arm shot out, grabbing the young Fulgor. Close to him and his wheelchair. Shielding her with his truest of power, luck.
Something he has vowed since the beginning: protect the young.
Mayera stood frozen for a split-second, eyes scanning the surroundings. She did not use sight for it, but her feeling, which she has honed over decades of being active.
Her jaw clenched.
She felt the presence.
she pinpointed it.
"Hiding between space-time," she felt a sense of anger. "Like a coward... Those who hide in battle deserve a dishonest death as well," she hissed.
Cosmic energy crackled to life around her fists. Not fire, nor wind. Raw, contorting power. White static, which snapped and hissed, formed into a throbbing ball between her palms.
It pulsed, shifting from blinding blue to a deep, hungry purple that seemed to chew at the very fabric of the space around it.
The 'air' screamed with annihilation withheld. The smell of ozone returned for the briefest of moments, sharper than before and more electric than before, cutting through the cold.
With a deep roar that echoed in a weird way in the vacuum, she thrust her hand forward. The purple bolt drove out. Not fast. Near-instantaneous. It did not travel; it was at the point she sensed.
A logic-defying sound followed.
It struck empty space, and reality shattered. Like glass hit by a hammer. A localized implosion of fractured space-time, a brief, terrifying display of broken dimensions collapsing in on themselves.
A single, choked gurgle echoed from within the chaos before it seized, leaving only swirling cosmic dust and the lingering scent of voided existence and energy.
Mayera sagged slightly, exhaling a breath. Relief? It was too early for that.
An ungodly sound came from above. Where 'above' had no meaning. Figures detached themselves from the angels that denied reason of the precreated structures, moving with twitchy, insect-like grace. They didn't walk; they crawled down vertical surfaces and across the 'ceiling' of open space, limbs bending impossible, gut-twisting ways. Paradox given form.
Heliterna's weathered face split into a wide, fierce grin. A predator recognizing old prey. The cold, the death, the terror, it all faded for him, replaced by a grim familiarity with this. The young Fulgor pressed against him whimpered, her voice trembling with dread. "Y-You... know wha-t this is... sir?"
The grin stayed. Sharp. Knowing. "Oh yes," he muttered, the sound vibrating through her where she clung to him. "I know them." His hand tightened on his wheelchair's arm, ready. The old fire, still for years, flickered in his eyes.
-
The Custodes stood frozen, struck with a dread, a dread so strong their bones could feel it. This wasn't battle-fear; it was a deep-rooted primal fear of the unknown.
They had faced gods, rogue sparks, decaying realities... but this? Entities moving with that impossible, gut-twisting movement, defying up and down?.
This old, ancient art...
A low, collective breath moved between clenched teeth as they watched the crawling chaos advance.
"That sniper..." Mayera muttered, her voice soft, eyes scanning the skittering horde. "What was the point? Just… noise?" , Desperation flickered across her face, quickly buried under fierce focus. She summoned the cosmic-lightning again, the air crackling and bursting with raw power.
White static snapped around her fists, bleeding into searing blue, then deepening into that hungry, space-ripping purple. With another loud roar, she unleashed it.
The bolt struck the center of the crawling mass. Reality fractured again, a localized implosion of shattered dimensions. Dust swirled. Silence fell for a heartbeat.
Nothing, it did... nothing.
The crawling figures simply… flowed around the point of impact like dark water, untouched. They didn't flinch. Didn't slow. Their relentless, multi-limbed advance continued, a silent stampede of pure chaos.
The Custodes all flinched back, a wave of despair washing over them. Frozen. Only Mayera moved, a growl twisting her lips as she charged another blast, her eyes wide with a wild, furious disbelief. Why wasn't it working?!
*Rolling sound?*
The rhythmic sound cut through the sliding and Mayera's crackling power. Heliterna's wheelchair bounced steadily down the slight 'incline' towards them, the young Fulgor clinging heavily to his lap, her eyes wide as they can be.
He was… laughing. A deep, harsh chuckle that seemed very out of place.
He rolled to a perfect stop beside the panting, desperate Mayera. The crawling horrors were meters away now, the air thick with the scent of chaos and something colder, drier, like void.
"So," Heliterna said, his voice calm, as if it was a normal occurrence for him, which it is, while the others are in full on panic. He gestured casually towards the advancing tide.
"Just for your information... these things," A cynical, knowing smile formed on his face, his eyes bright with recognition. "They are just the welcoming. Stage one."
He patted the Fulgor's trembling hand. "An old… acquaintance is saying hello. He calls himself Crawling Chaos. Nasty piece of work from the Darkest Generation. Likes to make an entrance."
His smile ever present.
-
"No father! I will not run! How many times have I told you already!" Kahn slammed his hand on the table, echiong through the non. His face was a slight red, veins visible on his neck.
More and more appearing each time his father asked him to do so.
"How many times do I have to say it!"
Around the table, the others were unrested, anxious about what they should do, all looking at the ancient relic hanging in the non. They quietly agree with him, Kahn's father, Crawling Chaos.
They have heard what he had done in the past... but that was then, and now is now. Does he still possess that same power as he once did? That same terrifying might?
It now felt different, his presence... noticeably... weaker. Yet the dread radiating from him was noticeably radiating from him, a cold weight, pressing.
"We should go Kahn!" Hyd's voice cracked, a high pitch due to stress. His face sweaty, his head pounding under every heartbeat. "If your old man says there is danger? THERE IS DANGER! Are you a fucking Idiot!?" The words hung in the air.
Murmur started, then expanded into agreement. Nods. Urgent whispers. "He's right, Kahn." "Listen to him!" "We need to leave now!" The unspoken rule hung heavy: all leave together, or all die here.
Today, survival meant flight.
Kahn looked around, met by a wall of fearful, insistent faces staring him down. His shoulders slumped. A hard, frustrated grunt unleashed from his throat.
"FINE!", the word like fire. "We'll go! Damn it all!"
Seeing that everyone is staring him down, he grunts, hard. "FINE, we'll go, damn!"
Without a second thought, everyone stood up, chairs scarping against the non. They offered hurried respects towards the hanging Crawling Chaos, and stood next to Kahn.
"I am sorry, Father; I meant no disrespect." Kahn muttered, stiff, not looking him in the eyes.
Space-time folded around Kahn and his followers with a sway, and a sound like tearing fabric, warping them away into the currents of Fundus.
Silence hung in the air for a good second, heavy silence. Then, a dry whisper, like ancient paper crumbling:
"Foolish boy..." There was no anger, only tiredness and certainty. "You stand no chance... for I myself..."
A series of loud, dry pops and cracks echoed as the ancient entity detached himself from the paradoxical roof
"will not come out as victorious either."
He landed with a surprising lightness, but the movement was stiff, unnatural.
A low groan escaped him as he pushed himself upright, unfolding like a rusted machine forced into motion after millenia of stillness.
Each step was slow, deliberate, an effort that spoke of immense age and lack of use. His pitch black robes gliding over the non-floor, dragginf behind him like shadows with weight.
Power gathered, not light, but pure, chaotic energy, a distortion that made the non-space sparkle mysteriously.
He was the calm center of a storm. Slowly, intentionally, he unleashed the standard welcome he reserved for all who dared face him: the creeping tide of impossible forms began to merge and crawl outwards into the void, to his old enemy...