"Kyuushou," Ken replied, taking a deep breath. "Houraiji Kyuushou." He asked, "Why? You know her?"
Adrian froze, cold sweat trickling down his back, his expression complicated, as if he swallowed something bitter. He didn't know if he should laugh or cry that his initial wish of it not being Kiana was fulfilled, but what he got was a drastic increase in something known as GGZ.
'Kyuushou Houraiji…' Adrian thought, his mind racing. 'Not Kiana, which is… complicated. I don't really know how to feel about this. But GGZ? Guns Girl Z? That's even worse. I don't even know if I'm in the main timeline, a Bubble universe, or a filler era that just gets destroyed. This is the world where the Honkai is a force of nature, unrestrained and utterly destructive. Where Humanity is pushed to their absolute limits, and even then, they struggle to barely hold back the tide. And Kyuushou… she's at the center of that hell. A very, very dangerous hell.'
He swallowed hard, trying to regain his composure. His hands clenched into fists, nails digging into his palms. 'If this is GGZ, then everything I thought I knew is useless. The rules are different. The stakes are higher. And I'm stuck here, with no powers, no resources,' he glanced at Ken from the side, 'and a naive kid who thinks he can to save everyone, as well as being a possible walking death magnet.'
'On the small bright side, I don't think this is the main timeline GGZ, because based on what I know from the wiki and the little I played the game, Kiana should have become the Herrscher of The End right now based on how big this eruption is, also Kyuushou shouldn't be hiding away waiting for help right now, but fighting against Herrschers, or inside a stigmata losing her memories... On an even worst note, I don't have anything to work with besides my knowledge of how the honkai and Herrschers work, maybe some characters that might appear, though they might be completely different from what I know, and-'
Ken, noticing Adrian's increasingly worsening expression, asked, breaking his train of thought, "Did I say something wrong?"
Adrian opened his mouth to respond, to ask a barrage of questions, to try and make sense of the chaos swirling in his mind. But the words caught in his throat. He realized that he couldn't trust himself to speak, that he needed to retreat and regroup before he revealed too much.
He cut Ken off with a dismissive wave of his hand. "It's nothing," he mumbled, turning away abruptly. He needed to stop talking, to shut down the flow of information before he revealed too much. He needed time to think, to process, to figure out what the hell he was going to do.
He shifted slightly, trying to find a secure and comfortable posture, pulling his jacket tighter around himself, trying to shut out the cold and the fear. "Just… let's just get some sleep," he said, his voice barely audible. "We can talk about this later."
He closed his eyes, focusing on his breathing, trying to slow the frantic pace of his thoughts. Scenes from the games and manga already flickering in his mind. Sleep seemed like a distant prospect, but he needed to at least try to conserve his energy.
Ken, after a moment of hesitation, did the same, finding his own spot on the floor and lying down. The silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken anxieties and the weight of the unknown. Soon, Ken's breathing became slow and regular, a sign that he had drifted off to sleep.
But Adrian remained tense, his senses on high alert, waiting for the darkness to claim him and transport him to the land of dreams. Hoping that when he wakes up, he'll just wake up to his desk and go to his exams. 'I'd rather deal with exams than anywhere here.'
So Adrian waited for darkness, his thoughts forcefully halted, and he waited...
Waited...
And waited..
Until finally,
The darkness came, not as a gentle embrace, but as a sudden, disorienting plunge. One moment, Adrian was sitting on the cold, hard floor of the abandoned apartment; the next, he felt himself falling, as if sinking into the bottomed of the sea, tumbling through an endless void.
He doesn't understand why or how he knew, but he felt various emotions coming from his surrounding, as if the sea itself was carrying his emotions. This time, however, the fear that he was expecting to feel with the sudden shift in his environment, was tempered by a strange sense of inevitability. As if he should know where he is, and why he's here.
Swirling nebulae of violet and crimson painted the void, a cosmic canvas of unimaginable beauty. And at the center of it all, stood a magnificently grand glowing white tree, its trunk pulsing with a soft, ethereal light.
It was not merely large, but impossibly vast. Its trunk, wider than any mountain he had ever seen, stretched into the darkness, disappearing into the swirling colors. Its branches, impossibly intricate, reached beyond the visible cosmos, each one tipped with leaves that shimmered with an inner light. Each leaf was a miniature galaxy, a swirling vortex of stars and nebulae.
A low, resonant hum permeated the void, vibrating through Adrian's very being. He felt weightless, adrift in a sea of cosmic energy.
As he drifted closer, the void began to coalesce into a landscape. The swirling colors solidified, forming a desolate expanse of crimson earth, cracked and barren. The hum intensified, becoming a chorus of whispers, a symphony of voices speaking in a language he didn't understand, yet somehow comprehended.
Footprints shimmered on the crimson soil, not merely indentations, but afterimages, echoes of past journeys. They pulsed with a faint, ethereal light, beckoning him forward. He recognized them as belonging to others who had been drawn to the Tree, recognized the pull that lead them further - a shared obsession, a desperate hope, and bound by a shared purpose.
He began to walk, following the path - a barely discernible trail etched into the crimson earth, shimmering with a faint, ethereal light. Each step seemed to resonate with the echoes of those who had walked it before, their hopes and dreams, their triumphs and countless failures, imprinted upon the very ground beneath his feet. His feet sinking slightly into the crimson earth. The whispers grew louder, swirling around him like a gentle breeze. He could almost make out individual words, fragments of stories, echoes of lives lived and lost, and for each story, he felt a connection with them, as if the stories were his own. As he walked, the whispers grew more frantic, and the ground began to tremble beneath his feet. A distant roar echoed through the void, followed by a blinding flash of light.
The ground was no longer crimson, but a landscape littered with countless golden cubes, interspersed with swords driven into the earth. The cubes, each perfectly formed and precisely aligned, radiated a brilliant, almost artificial light. There was a sense of order, of meticulous planning, that seemed strangely out of place in this chaotic dreamscape. Some shone with an almost blinding intensity, their golden surfaces gleaming as if newly formed, but they reached only a short distance before collapsing, their light extinguished with a sudden, clinical precision. Others, further ahead, had a duller, more muted glow, their surfaces scarred and weathered, but they had managed to push a little further, expending their energy in a desperate, almost obsessive attempt to reach the Tree. And beyond that point, the ground was bare, the crimson earth exposed once more, scarred with the marks of countless failed attempts. Each fallen cube, regardless of its brightness or its reach, served as a testament to the immense challenge of reaching the Tree, seemingly marking the beginning of a new, uncharted path, a testament to the futility of brute force, and the endless search for a way forward.
Just then, blinding flashes of white light illuminated the landscape, followed by the echoing boom of displaced energy. The ground trembled beneath his feet, and the air crackled with residual power. As the light subsided, Adrian could make out two figures in the distance, locked in a desperate battle against a horde of grotesque, shadowy creatures. Some monsters were vaguely humanoid in shape, but their bodies were twisted and distorted, their limbs elongated and unnatural, their eyes glowing with malevolent energy, others were huge, towering over the other creatures and the two individuals. They swarmed around the two figures like a living darkness, their claws and teeth tearing at the air. It was a scene of utter chaos and destruction, a stark contrast to the artificial order of the golden cubes.
The two figures moved with a practiced efficiency, as if they had faced this situation countless times, their movements complementing each other as they advanced toward the base of the Immemorial Tree. The white haired figure, his face etched with a deep weariness, cleared a path, cleaving through the monstrous horde with a massive greatsword, each swing a whirlwind of light and ashes. The blond man, radiating an unsettling confidence, defended their flanks, dancing through the shadows, deflecting attacks with a shimmering energy shield and retaliating with bursts of focused power. Despite the figures' skill, the creatures pressed on relentlessly, their shadowy forms a never-ending tide. The white haired man grunted with exertion, his movements becoming slightly slower, his strikes less precise. The blond man, though still radiating confidence, began to show signs of strain, his energy shield flickering and wavering with each deflected blow.
Suddenly, one of the larger creatures lunged forward, its massive claws tearing through the white haired man's defenses, leaving a gash across his chest. He staggered back, clutching his chest, a dark stain spreading across his armor. The blond man reacted instantly, unleashing a torrent of energy that blasted the creature back, but his companion was wounded.
Seeing their opportunity, the creatures surged forward, their shadowy forms pressing in on the wounded warrior. The blond man, realizing the danger, moved to protect his comrade, deflecting blows and creating a space for him to recover.
"Get back!" the armored figure roared, his voice filled with pain and desperation. "Brace yourself!"
Heeding the armored figure's warning, the blond man focused on defense, dodging attacks and creating distance, his shield drained but poised for deployment.
Suddenly, the cornered figure began to glow with an intense, inner light. Cracks appeared starting from his chest, and a torrent of energy, like molten fire, erupted from within. The creatures closest to him were instantly incinerated, their shadowy forms consumed by the inferno. The remaining monsters recoiled in terror, their advance halted by the sudden burst of power.
The blond man, distance away from the blast, raised his energy shield to protect himself, but the heat was too intense. His clothes were singed, his hair slightly scorched, but he managed to withstand the residue of the attack.
As the energy subsided, the white haired figure stood panting, his armor shattered and destroyed, revealing a muscular physique beneath. But as the last pieces of armor fell away, a long, dark coat materialized around him, seemingly out of thin air.
He looked at the blond man, a grim smile on his face. "Well, that was a close one," he said, his voice hoarse. "Ready to keep going?"
The blond man nodded, brushing the soot from his clothes. "As ready as I'll ever be," he replied, his voice slightly strained. "But I sense the path ahead will be even more... Troublesome."
They began to advance towards the huge Tree, their steps measured and cautious. The ground began to slope upwards, leading to a series of increasingly steep inclines. The white haired figure, despite his recent exertion, scaled the slopes with ease, his movements precise and determined. The blond man, however, seemed to struggle, his steps heavy and labored.
As they reached the base of the final incline, they encountered a strange phenomenon. The air shimmered and distorted, as if they were trying to push through an invisible barrier. A powerful force pushed back against them, making it difficult to breathe, to move, to even think.
"What is this?" the white haired figure asked, his voice strained.
The blond man frowned, his eyes narrowed in concentration. "Resistance," he replied. "The Tree... it does not wish for us to proceed."
He reached out his hand and what appeared was a small, golden cube, the last of its kind. It pulsed with a faint, ethereal light, a miniature echo of the larger cubes scattered across the landscape.
"This is as far as I can go," the blond man said, his voice filled with a strange mixture of resignation and determination. "I lack the... necessary component to proceed. A piece of finality."
He held the golden cube aloft, and it began to glow brighter, bathing the surrounding area in a golden light. The air crackled with energy, and the invisible barrier shimmered and pulsed.
"I will use this and my remaining energy to open a path for you," the blond man said, his voice growing weaker. "But I cannot accompany you any further. The Tree will not willingly accept me, and I do not wish to jeopardize my last shred of hope by trying to intrude."
The golden cube began to disintegrate, its light fading as it released its energy. The blond man closed his eyes, his face serene, and channeled his own power into the cube's energy.
With a final surge of power, the invisible barrier shattered, creating a path upwards, a shimmering bridge of light that led towards the base of the Huge Tree.
The blond man opened his eyes, his face pale and drawn. "The path is open," he said, his voice barely a whisper. "But it will not remain so for long. You must hurry."
The blond man gazed at his companion, a knowing smile gracing his lips. "Your destiny awaits," he stated, his voice a haunting whisper. "Proceed. Fulfill your promise."
The white-haired figure, a strange mix of determination and sorrow in his eyes, raised his fist. "One for the road," he said, his voice rough and reluctant but sincere.
The blond man's smile softened, a hint of something almost wistful in his expression. He returned the fist bump, his touch surprisingly warm despite the encroaching cold. "One for our next meeting... my friend," he replied, his voice already fading, laced with a profound sense of finality.
As their fists parted, the blond man stepped back, his form began to flicker and waver. His features softened, his frame shrinking, his age seemingly unwinding before the armored figure's very eyes. The elegant lines of his face smoothed out, replaced by the innocent contours of youth. His hair, once impeccably styled, became tousled and childlike. In a matter of moments, he had regressed into the form of a small boy, no older than ten, with wide, blue eyes that held a spark of ancient knowledge. The transformation happened quickly, as if time itself was unraveling him.
The child smiled, a fleeting expression of peace and acceptance. Then, with a final sigh, he dissolved into the shadows, disappearing without a trace, leaving only the faintest echo of his presence.
The armored figure stood alone, his hand throbbing with a dull ache. He stared at the shimmering bridge of light that stretched towards the Immemorial Tree, a path bought with sacrifice and regret.
He took a hesitant step forward, and as he did, he felt a strange sensation wash over him. A feeling of lightness, of rejuvenation, as if the years were being stripped away from his very being. He glanced down at his hands, and saw with a jolt of surprise that the calluses and scars are receding, replaced by the smooth, unblemished skin of youth. His muscles felt stronger, his senses sharper.
With each step he took towards the Tree, he grew younger, his body shedding the weight of experience and hardship. The weariness that had etched itself upon his face began to fade, replaced by a youthful vitality he had long forgotten.
He knew, with a growing anxiety, that the Tree was rejecting him, revulsed at his presence, as if pushing out an invader in its home, however with the efforts of the blond haired man and his own fragment, the tree was only able to exert a minimal influence on him, resulting in slow de-aging.
The path leading to the base of the Tree was not a gentle slope, but a treacherous gauntlet. Littered across the crimson earth were countless swords, each one identical to the sword the lone figure carried in his hand.
As Adrian followed, he saw his reflection glinting in the polished steel of each blade, distorted and fragmented, as if each sword held a piece of his soul.
With each step, the lone figure seemed to grow weaker, his movements more labored, his face more drawn. The swords seemed to mock him, their silent reflections whispering of past failures, of lives lost, of sacrifices made in vain.
Finally, he reached the base of the Tree. Having the same child look as his companion before, but his eyes still burned with an undiminished resolve. Exhausted but resolute, he raised his sword, its blade gleaming in the ethereal light.
He closed his eyes, his face a mask of sorrow and determination. He whispered a single word, a name lost to time, a memory that haunted his every waking moment.
Then, with a final, desperate surge of strength, he plunged the sword into the heart of the Tree.
A blinding light erupted, engulfing the figure and the surrounding landscape. When the light subsided, the figure was gone, his body disintegrated into motes of shimmering energy.
Only his sword remained, embedded in the trunk of the Tree. And from the point where the sword pierced the bark, a new branch began to sprout, a tiny, fragile tendril reaching towards the heavens.
Adrian gasped, he felt himself being pulled into the point where the branch began to sprout. "Hah!". Adrian suddenly jolting upright in the darkness. His heart pounded in his chest, his skin slick with sweat. The cold, hard reality of the apartment was a stark contrast to the vibrant, surreal world he had just left.
He struggled to regain his bearings, his mind reeling from the experience. The dream was so vivid, so real. He could still feel the hum of the Tree, the weight of the figure's sorrow.
He felt that the dream was more than just a figment of his imagination, that it was a glimpse into a deeper reality, a warning of sorts, probably related to the Honkai. 'and that tree, that looks just like the imaginary tree I saw in Otto's Regression.'
He glanced at Ken, who was still sleeping peacefully on the floor, bathed in the pale moonlight streaming through the window. A sudden thought struck him: what did that dream mean, and what does it relate to him?
He dismissed the thought as absurd, but he couldn't shake the feeling that something was about to change.
He remained tense, his mind racing, trying to make sense of the images he had just witnessed. The Imaginary Tree, the two figures, the countless swords… what did it all mean?
The weight of the world seemed to press down on him, a crushing burden of responsibility, one which he does not know why he feels that. He was just one man, with no powers, no resources. How could he possibly hope to make a difference in a world teetering on the brink of destruction?
He closed his eyes again, trying to find some solace in the darkness. But the images of the dream continued to flicker in his mind, a constant reminder of the challenges that lay ahead.