The universe adapted.
It always did.
After the first gods fell… after Law collapsed… after the Void flinched but did not break—creation did the only thing it could to survive:
It organized a hunt.
Not an army.
Not a war.
A response.
Delta felt it before he saw it. The pressure in reality sharpened—not hostile, not afraid.
Focused.
"They're learning," he said quietly.
His voice echoed flatly inside the mask. Less curiosity now. Less commentary.
No amusement.
---
THE COLD SETS IN
Delta drifted through fractured space, passing the remnants of forgotten realms. Once, he would have lingered. Watched. Reflected.
Now, he didn't slow.
Emotion was… inefficient.
That realization disturbed him for exactly three seconds.
Then it passed.
The Deltonic Saber remained sheathed at his side. He hadn't needed it lately. The hunt wouldn't begin with gods.
It would begin with solutions.
---
FIRST CONTACT
The ambush came without ceremony.
No warning. No dramatic reveal.
Six distortions snapped open around him simultaneously—tight, precise, mathematically cruel.
Pantheon Hunters.
Not gods.
Not angels.
Engineered answers.
They moved in perfect silence: humanoid silhouettes wrapped in fragmented halos, their forms constantly shifting between possible states. Each carried the mark of a different divine order—stitched together into something new.
"Adaptive constructs," Delta murmured. "Cute."
The space around him locked.
Physics inverted.
Time stalled.
Delta stood frozen mid-breath.
One of the Hunters stepped forward, voice layered and wrong.
"TARGET: DELTA.
STATUS: UNBOUND.
AUTHORIZATION: OMNIPANTHEON."
Delta didn't struggle.
Didn't panic.
He simply tilted his head—internally.
"…That's new."
---
ARM CANNON — ONLINE
Something answered him.
Deep beneath the skin of his right arm, a buried system awakened.
Seals ignited.
Constraints disengaged.
Hell-tech. Void-tech. Something Lyrieth swore he'd never use again.
The arm split open with a scream of folding metal.
Black plating unfolded along his forearm as glowing sigils burned into existence. A circular aperture irised open, light coalescing into a dense, vibrating core.
One of the Hunters reacted too slowly.
Delta fired.
The blast didn't travel.
It appeared.
Hunter One vanished—compressed into a sphere of light smaller than a coin before detonating with a soundless implosion.
Physics screamed back into place.
Time restarted.
The remaining Hunters recoiled.
Delta lowered his arm.
"…I forgot how much I liked that," he said flatly.
No smile.
---
THE SHOULDER CANNONS RETURN
The others adapted instantly.
Reality around Delta recompiled—probability collapsing inward as layered kill-parameters activated.
Delta felt irritation.
Not anger.
Just… annoyance.
His back tensed.
Armor materialized along his shoulders, tearing through fabric and skin without resistance. Twin housings rose over each shoulder, rotating into position with a familiar mechanical growl.
THOOM.
THOOM.
The cannons locked.
Energy built—cold, refined, absolute.
Delta looked up at the Hunters.
"You're not even interesting."
Both cannons fired.
Two beams of compressed void-light crossed paths midair, weaving into a lattice that tore the Hunters apart across every possible version of their existence.
Not destroyed.
Unmade.
The ambush ended.
Silence reclaimed the void.
---
THE HUNTERS ADAPT TOO LATE
Delta floated among the aftermath—fragments of erased probability dissolving like mist.
His armcannon hissed softly as it cooled. The shoulder cannons retracted partway, standing by.
He felt it now.
Power returning.
Not all at once.
But steadily.
Like a dam breaking somewhere far away.
"Good," he muttered. "I was getting tired of holding back."
---
THE READER AGAIN (BUT COLDEST YET)
He paused.
Not because he sensed danger.
Because he sensed attention.
Delta didn't turn this time.
Didn't smile.
Didn't perform.
"You're still here," he said quietly.
A pause.
"Good."
His tone was different now. Less conversational.
"You don't need me to explain this anymore."
The void shifted uncomfortably.
"This part of the story isn't about whether I'm right."
He resumed moving.
"It's about whether anyone can stop me."
---
THE UNIVERSE RESPONDS
Far away, councils convened.
Pantheons burned emergency truths into existence.
Weapons once considered heretical were unsealed.
Names long erased were spoken again.
And somewhere deeper than Hell… deeper than the Void…
Something ancient felt Delta's systems come back online.
ARMAMENTS RESTORED.
CONTAINMENT FAILURE IMMINENT.
---
NOCTIS FEELS THE CHANGE
In her domain of drifting galaxies, Noctis froze mid-motion.
Her hand trembled.
"…He's colder," she whispered.
And that frightened her more than his rage ever had.
---
THE HUNT ESCALATES
Delta slowed for the first time since the ambush.
Not because of fatigue.
Because he felt it.
A network forming.
Hundreds of realities triangulating his position.
Hunters were no longer acting alone.
This was becoming coordinated.
Delta's voice was calm.
Professional.
"…So that's how you want it."
The shoulder cannons rotated fully into place.
The armcannon flared.
The Deltonic Saber hummed eagerly at his side—but he ignored it.
"Alright," he said softly.
"Let's speed this up."
And then Delta accelerated—vanishing into the void in a burst of impossible velocity, leaving behind a scar that would take centuries to heal.
The hunt had begun.
And Delta
was no longer running.