The two masked gods stared at Astra, utterly bewildered. Draymon Salasar, one of the proud Outer Gods, felt disgust coil in his chest. He had been sent to kill a mortal. How absurd. A god… sent to murder an insect?
Usually, they dispatched legions, kidnapped the Anchor Being, and forced submission through fear or coercion. This time… it was different.
Her words echoed in his mind: "Send one of your strongest," the Sacred Prophetess had said. "The new world our Emperor desires… it is strange. Its Anchor's fate is distorted. No—fate itself bends around him. I saw the Prophet swallow her fear. Fate bowed like a servant."
Kill him.
That was her conclusion. Draymon clenched his jaw. Was she really right?
The mortal they had been warned about knelt on the floor, tears streaking his cheeks as he clutched a piece of alloy. A console? Calling it his "son"? Disgust twisted Draymon's face. He raised a finger.
"Enough. Perish."
Spurt.
A wet, horrifying sound reverberated through space. Draymon's eyes widened. His right arm—gone. Not severed. Erased.
Behind him, reality itself tore open, a black void slashing the sky, jagged and consuming everything in its path.
BOOOOOOOOOOM!
A deafening explosion rippled outward, shockwaves shredding the heavens, yet below, the city remained untouched, mortals staring upward, unharmed, encased in a shimmering violet barrier. Draymon bit his lip as agony flared through him. He wanted to scream—but no sound came. Then it hit him: part of his soul… was gone. Eaten.
He looked up. Astra floated before them, calm, composed, fragments of Draymon's soul spiralling into his chest like smoke drawn into a furnace.
"I—back off!" Lila shouted, leaping to his side. "Drey, are you alright?!"
"Yes…" Draymon snarled, forcing Anima to surge through his body. His arm regenerated, but he felt weaker. Much weaker.
For the first time, Astra actually looked at them. He sighed, a corner of his mouth curling. "That was a limited edition, you know, you bastard."
Silence.
"So," Astra continued, hands shoved in his pockets, voice casual, amusement dripping from every word, "what are Otherworlders doing in my world?"
Draymon froze. "How… do you know?"
"Your presence is… different," Astra said, violet eyes glinting. "Same power structure, different source."
Lila clenched her teeth. "Drey…"
"I know," he muttered. The Prophetess was right.
Draymon raised his hand. Gates of impossible colors tore open across the sky, shimmering and rippling with energy.
ROOOOOOOAR!
Dragons appear through the gate, their wings blotting out the sky. They descend first, followed by soldiers of countless races, thousands filling the heavens. Yet neither Draymon nor Lila felt relief. Astra hovered at the centre, utterly calm amid the storm, Violet Anima crackling across his body like living lightning. He smiled, a genuine, terrifying smile that made their hearts and souls quake.
Then—CRACK!
Space fractured violently around them, hurling the two gods backwards.
Draymon looked up. "…What?"
Drip. Drip. Warm liquid splashed across his face. Blood. In a single heartbeat, the sky turned red.
Astra moved like a comet, purple light consuming the army, and he laughed softly, amused. "It's been a while since something interesting happened. My Limited Edition Console is gone… but this? This isn't bad at all."
The dragon screamed, a sound that made the air vibrate, as its jaws tore apart under Astra's strike. He didn't hesitate, kicked its head with a BAM!—and the massive body spun through the air like a ragdoll. Before it could recover, Astra slammed his fist into its stomach, sending it hurtling upward.
He grabbed the tail as it twisted in midair. Violet energy surged along the dragon's scales, darkening them to purple before they shattered into shards. Astra swung it through the sky. The dragon became a weapon—every soldier it struck exploded, spraying gore across the battlefield. Screams and the metallic tang of blood filled the air.
When the chaos settled, only the dragon's tail remained in his hand.
"Tsk." Astra tossed it aside. "That's all you got?"
Before he could react further, two massive bursts of energy slammed into him from either side. He raised a hand—CLANG—BOOOOOOM!—and a shockwave erased everything behind him in a single sweep.
Lila lunged, blade flashing, but Astra caught it barehanded.
"Impossible…" she gasped, wobbling.
"Oh, darling," he said, voice soft but edged with danger, "nothing is impossible to me."
He shoved her blade back, punching her gut. She grunted, doubled over. Before she could recover, a roundhouse kick shattered her mask, sending her crashing into the ground.
A mace dropped from above. Astra sidestepped without even looking.
Draymon lunged next. Astra grabbed his long hair, yanking him forward with enough force to snap his head back.
"W-what—"
BOOOOM!
Astra's elbow slammed into his back. Armour cracked. He didn't stop, punching again into Draymon's chest. Blue energy flared, blocking the hit. Draymon writhed, trying to push him off, but Astra's grin never faltered.
BAM. BAM. BAM. BAM. BAM. BAM. BAM. BAM. Eight hits, same spot, each strike driving him deeper into the ground.
SPURT.
Astra's hand pierced through his chest. Draymon clutched at it, coughing blood, staring into those star-filled violet eyes.
"…A shame," Astra whispered. "You're weak."
He kicked Draymon away. The god's upper body exploded, gore raining down over the battlefield.
Ten minutes. Thousands of soldiers are dead.
"Well," Astra muttered, brushing his hands clean. "Fun always ends."
"M-monster…" a trembling voice croaked.
Astra looked down.
"Oh. Right. You."
The woman lay broken, her face deformed from earlier strikes. Healing light slowly restored her features. Astra stepped closer, inspecting her without any false courtesy.
"Not bad," he said. She glared up at him, red hair tousled, red eyes blazing. Fierce, unafraid even in pain.
SPURT.
A white blade cut through her face, slicing her in half.
A cold, terrifying voice echoed behind him.
"Not bad?"
Astra's eyes widened. Purple eyes. Purple hair. The familiar face of his secretary.
"U-Uriel…" he stammered, suddenly aware.
"I… I meant her healing ability," he quickly corrected, descending with measured steps. "You're late."
"They attacked multiple locations," Uriel panted. "Your Majesty… gates are opening."
"…Gates," Astra muttered, letting a faint smirk curl his lips. "How ironic."
Uriel's shoulders slumped, frustration crackling in the air. "Please… stop playing games, Your Majesty. You're going to fry your brain if you keep this up."
Astra's grin widened, careless, almost amused. Then—everything shifted.
A massive violet gate tore through the sky. Violet Chains erupted from it with a deafening snap, slicing through the air like steel snakes.
SPURT.
A black odachi slammed into his abdomen. Pain exploded through him. Blood flooded his mouth.
"What the—?" he rasped, clutching at the blade as heat and weight burned through him.
This wasn't just a weapon—it was tied to his very soul.
A strange warmth enveloped him, comforting and terrifying all at once.
Astralion… my Astralion… It's time to go home.
Dark energy surged violently, tugging him toward the gate. The world twisted, walls and sky stretching and shattering around him.
"Dammit—!" Astra yelled, teeth gritted, his muscles straining. He shoved against the pull with everything he had.
Uriel's eyes widened as she sprinted toward him. "Your Majesty—hold on!"
"Prepare for war!" Astra roared, voice cutting through the chaos. They will surely attack again. Don't hold back! Its time to come out of the shadows!"
Chains shot toward her, wrapping around her wrists and ankles. She fought, kicking and straining, fingers clawing at the air.
"I'll come back!" Astra promised, voice almost cheerful, but sharp as steel, a grin tugging at his lips even through the pain.
BOOOOOOM!
The shockwave threw Uriel backwards like a rag doll. She screamed, body tumbling across the ground.
"NOOOOO—ASTRA!" Her voice cracked with terror, fear, and anger all at once.
***
Inside a futuristic-medieval bar, laughter and cheers echoed. Young men and women danced like there was no tomorrow, the air thick with music, smoke, and spilled drinks.
In one of the smaller rooms, a young man stirred, groaning softly.
"Ah… shit…"
Astra's eyes blinked open.
The stench hit him first—sweat, alcohol, something… foul, like rotten meat.
"What the fuck…"
Half-naked bodies were scattered across the floor, limbs tangled like snakes.
He pushed himself up on unsteady legs and stumbled toward a mirror.
Who the fuck is this? Huh? He touches his face repeatedly, flinching. Me??
"…No fucking way."
Red hair. Brown eyes. Average. If not for the hair, he grimaced, remembering the face.
"No… no… no…" he muttered. This has to be a dream… He shook his head. Uriel was right… I've been playing too many games. Why the hell am I in the body of a gigolo side character now? Wake the hell up, Astra.
He slapped his face. Hard. His head snapped sideways.
It hurt??
"…Oh, fuck me."
A soft giggle came from behind him, crawling up his spine.
"Oh? Feeling lonely, young man?"
He spun around.
A drunken older woman with sagging belly fat lurched toward him, drooling, her eyes wild and leering like a predator.
Astra instinctively took a step back in fear.
"…Oh hell no."