This work is a piece of fiction. While inspired by real events, cultures, and practices in human history, the story blends factual history with fictional characters, dramatizations, and creative interpretation.
It is not intended to promote, glorify, or encourage any illegal activities, substance use, or harmful behavior. All depictions of sensitive topics are included solely for narrative and historical context.
For the effects of the story, all characters are to be considered above the majority age.
Reader discretion is advised.
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Earth-5H1N3, Year 2001. Halo, The Crystal.
Normally, when two guests of a certain standing visit, they are arranged in separate rooms for their comfort, perhaps in the same wing of a residence or on the same floor of a high-rise building.
Thor and Loki, though, despite their standing as deities of the Aesir, were not exactly considered honored guests. It wasn't their convenience that mattered to the Therions; it was their new sister's convenience that did.
So, even though it was a room large enough to fit a house, a room with every needed amenity and luxury, it was just one chamber with two rooms, one for each guest.
In one of the chamber's shared glass balconies, Thor was enjoying the view. The Crystal was built on top of a cliff overlooking a large lake, framed by waterfalls, and with a perfect view of the curvature of the Halo, Earth, and the Moon.
The metal-organic forest shimmered with sunlight peeking over the curvature of Earth. In the shadows cast by the horizontally beamed sunlight, the neon-like glow of the magical shrub and herb layers created a psychedelic show.
But what amazed Thor was not the flora or mythical fauna; it was the dense haze of mana and divine blessings that shrouded the landscape. It felt like the most holy place of a pantheon, but he knew it was not. It simply was a place that had been blessed by an entire pantheon.
"Brother," Loki called out as he joined his brother in the landscape gazing. "It's rare to see you like this," there was a certain mocking undertone to Loki that Thor was used to hearing. "You almost look like you're thinking."
"Loki," Thor said. "What's going on?"
Loki's practiced mask of contempt cracked, revealing the turmoil beneath. He slumped over the balcony rails, his posture collapsing like a crumbling tower.
"... Better yet, what isn't going on?" Loki retorted. "I keep telling myself that all of this is just a bad dream cast by a devil. Mother is gone. Apparently, I'm a frost giant abandoned by my birth parents.
"I would like to ask Odin about what I was to him—his pet, a playmate for his son, a pity project—but I can't even resent him properly, now that he obliterated himself trying to kill that monster.
"... And Mother! The mother I knew would not have condoned what was done to our dear sister—another surprise; you were not the firstborn! Oh, and let's not forget what you heard before passing out: you have another mother, an Elder Goddess.
"But let's not focus on you for once, Brother. Let us go back to the list of all that has changed. The Aesir are days away, if not hours, from following Mother to Valhalla, all because Father thought holding hostage the child of a Many-Angled One was the way to go!
"But, hey, if we support our dear sister's ascension—the sister everyone forgot because Odin didn't want his failure paraded across his illusory, perfect rule—we might be able to save at least our pantheon.
"Emphasis on the 'at least,' because from what we've heard and seen, the rest of Omnipotence City is soon to be embroiled in the conflict of divine conflicts, the conflict to end all divine conflicts!
"Dear Brother, does that sum it all up; what's going on?"
Lost for words, Thor managed to reply, "I also don't think Mother would condone what was done to Hela."
"... What will happen to the Aesir?" Loki asked, his gaze distant on the impossible landscape of the Halo.
"Hela promised the Drachantheon Therion would spare our people if they submit to her," Thor replied.
"I know that, idiot," Loki bit back with no force. "Think about what will happen after. Come on, Brother, you should be able to see it."
Thor, despite disliking Loki's attitude, caught on to the message; there was something he was not seeing.
He had spoken with Hela, after she had forced on him the difference in their power, and she had appeared sincere enough. Thor would not claim to be a flawless judge of character, but was able to see some 'common ground' in his sister.
It was something similar to his own warrior's honor. She felt like no warrior he knew, but he could sense in her something like a code of honor. Hence, he was sure she would stand by the deal they made.
That aside, he tried to picture the future beyond that; he tried to see what his brother was seeing that he was not. Just as Thor had no qualms in declaring he outclassed Loki in battle prowess, he could also recognize that Loki left him biting the dust in the race of the most cunning. So, he must have seen something he did not.
He first pictured the Aesir accepting Hela as their new Skymother. He was not naive to think there wouldn't be a few deaths here and there, but they were Vanir and Asgardians, and they all walked the battlefield of life with the promise of Valhalla after a warrior's death as their solace.
So, maybe a show of force, a cull of the dissenters afterward, and then Frigga would be brought back.
He was not clear on how that would be achieved, but he had no doubts it was possible. After all, he had witnessed the resurrection of millions of Midgardians just a few hours ago. If it was beyond Hela's capabilities, he was sure that Phoenix Host and the Time Lord could assist.
Then his mother would be back; that thought alone almost made his waterways flood again, but what about after that?
Naturally, he expects Hela to resent his mother, but she had promised she would not target the life of the woman who raised her, so at least his mother's life was guaranteed. And then?
Then...
Then...
Thor made a visible effort to see beyond the obvious.
Then, his mother would not reclaim the seat of the All-Mother, he concluded.
'So that's it,' Thor thought.
"What will happen to the Aesir?" He asked Loki.
"Hah!" Loki scoffed in disdain and disbelief. "So you could reach that point but not visualize the most obvious conclusion," Loki pointed out.
"Cease your games, Loki," Thor warned.
"Well, they most certainly won't open their arms for the rest of the Aesir!" Loki exclaimed. "Dear sister is, somehow, considered a part of the pantheon of freaks, but the rest of us are not. So, what will happen is that we will be considered the direct subordinates of our dear sister, ergo, of this pantheon of freaks!"
"A subordinate pantheon?" Thor asked. "Is that possible?"
"I will soon become a reality," Loki stated.
For deities, the thought of being subordinated to others was no different from mortals being enslaved.
While the two brothers simmered in worry for their future, in the main conference room of The Crystal, Doom, Fury, and Spark welcomed the representatives of the House of Agon: Karnak Mander-Azur, Blackagar Boltagon, and Lockjaw, a dog with antennae growing out of his head.
Karnak was present due to his ability for psychological intuition: the capability of understanding the logical conclusions stemming from a person's rationale.
Blackagar was the king and representative of the Inhumans. And Lockjaw was their getaway ride, in case the worst happened.
The rest of the house of Agon, the royal family of the Atilan, was left on the Moon.
"Welcome, king of the Inhumans, Blackagar Boltagon. Karnak Mander-Azur, royal advisor, and Lockjaw," Spark greeted them. "I'm Spark Dracosnisfilia, Goddess of Technology and Knowledge of the Drachantheon Therion, princess heir to the Fulgebunt Draconis Imperium."
Then, she gestured slightly to her left, "These are Nicholas Fury, official representative of the surviving WSC, and Victor von Doom, rightful king of Latveria and the leader of this operation."
Just her greeting alone was a cause of concern for Blackagar and Karnak.
They were approached the day before through range communication, which was concerning enough for a secret civilization like theirs, and they had never introduced anyone but Blackagar Boltagon.
Then there was the fact that Spark introduced herself as a goddess; they knew deities, they had ancient books on them, but that was the same as declaring humanity knew dinosaurs.
On the other side, no one, after the previous events, could claim that deities did not exist.
Blackagar made a few hand signs, and Karnak spoke on his behalf, "We greet you, Goddess Draconisfilia. We are looking forward to getting to know our neighbors, is what my king said."
"If you prefer it, you can speak," Spark informed. "The Crystal is inscribed with certain wards." Spark made a gesture with her index, and Script lit up across the crystal floor and glass ceiling.
Blackagar looked at Karnak with a cautious gaze. He didn't know if he should trust Spark's judgment that whatever these wards were, they could contain his voice. He knew that if someone could provide the needed insight, it was Karnak.
Karnak, to him, this situation was more complicated than he let on. There were Fury and Doom, who, although abnormal for humans, he could sense their limits. Spark, however, he could not understand, not even with all the effort he was giving to the task.
He could detect some stress points and weak points in her. The problem was that these points were shifting and changing too fast and randomly to make sense of what he was sensing; he even thought that the goddess was trying to mess with him. And as for understanding the logic behind her rationale, he couldn't even understand what he was getting from her.
The wards, although foreign and too complicated to decipher, he could at least comprehend that Spark's words held truth, so he nodded to Blackagar.
"Greetings," Blackagar whispered, as if testing the words. When nothing blew up, and everybody was still in one piece, he smiled almost imperceptibly. "The silence can be deafening," he continued, "but it appears you knew that."
"We've been aware of you since 1997," Spark revealed. "Your probes, after the Halo's reveal, have been... entertaining," she smirked, "we were tempted to allow Lockjaw in, we are big on good boys like him," her eyes lit with warmth when gazing at the giant dog.
"I'm ashamed of my oversight," Blackagar said.
"That's not something they'll consider an offense, King Blackagar," Victor interjected. The familiarity with which he referred to the Therions left him somewhat confused.
"King Victor, your accession has been a case of study to my council," Blackagar offered.
"A king's rule is a representation of their qualities as a sovereign," Victor said, accepting the acknowledgment.
"We should get this going," Fury interjected. "Hopefully, we'll finish before humanity fully returns to 'normal'."
"As Fury says, we don't have as much leisure as we would like to have," Spark added. "We are aware of some of the problems that plague Atilan, and the Inhumans offer a variety to Terrans that will be needed."
With that, they moved to take a seat across a square crystal table.
Doom and Fury wanted the Inhumans' strength—Kree technology included, and genetic studies—and wanted to provide a much-needed variety to humanity.
If there were more 'pariahs' aside from the mutants, then maybe humanity would soon get the point across that Earth was not so 'normal', not even its humanity.
Additionally, they, mostly Fury, would feel at ease if the Inhumans came out of the shadows.
Spark was there to represent the Therions and Imperium, even though the Inhumans didn't know who the Therions were or what the Imperium was.
Contrary to the situation down on Earth, on Atilan, after three apocalypses now, they were not going through more of a crisis aside from the one their circumstances had begat.
The level of consanguinity was alarming, resources were scarce, the population had to be tightly controlled, and a broken cast system ensured only a select few lived a life worth living.
If anything had changed after the sudden increase of world-ending events, it was the general unrest experienced by the Inhumans.
With their ignorance of Uatu's existence, they believed they were the only ones living outside Earth's surface. However, with the Halo's revealed, that changed.
During the first world-ending event, the mishap with the Green Door, they registered a spike in their energy readings that signified the planet was going to explode, but that was it. There was no fancy light show, no reverberations across the fabric of Reality, no cosmological phenomena that made them doubt their understanding of physics, and no conceptual dread spread by an entity's existence.
However, when the Unquenchable Hunger rampaged, things went from concerning to the world is ending in less than a minute.
And even then, when the Goblin Force was blasting at Aragorn with gamma-ray bursts, dropping pulsars on him, and eating planets like snacks, they were protected by the shielding and consideration of Aragorn and Spark.
When that shitfest of cosmological proportions was over, and when it was revealed that the Solar System had lost most of its planets and that the surrounding space had been twisted, warped, and broken beyond recognition, the Inhumas panicked.
Maybe saying they panicked was underselling it. The lower caste rebelled, and one of the House of Agon, Maximus Boltagon, chose to fan the fires of rebellion covertly.
This day, although Blackagar Boltagon presents himself with all the majesty expected from one of his standing, he was a shell of a king.
See, during the Goblin Force event, Aragorn had shielded the Moon along with Earth with an Infinity-powered barrier, but during the recent divine incursion... the roots of the Arbor Mundi didn't reach Atilan.
So, when Odin killed all of humanity that had been reachable outside the protection of the World Tree and Gaea, every single one of the Inhumans of Atilan was included in that list. All of them, no exceptions, even Blackagar Boltagon himself.
All of his life, he had been suffering from the Superman syndrome, the one where they find themselves living in a world of cardboard, and just a day ago, he experienced frailty in its rawest form. There was no change to mount resistance, no change to suffer a defeat after a glorious battle of world-changing repercussions, no opportunity to even acknowledge the opponent, he was, and then he wasn't.
So, while on Earth, the resurrected millions were spreading the 'truth' and the millions of times corroborated history backed the narrative's veracity, on Atilan, it had become fact the moment Jean Grey and Pietro Maximoff resurrected them.
They say going through a near-death experience changes a mortal; well, this was a near-death experience as it could get. Is there anything closer to death than having to be pulled from the future just as causality had begun cementing your death? Any closer and Death would have had to approve their resurrection.
If before it was uncertain if their neighbors in Halo were aware of their presence, now it was a fact cemented in Reality and their minds. To make the situation more surreal to the Inhumans, not only were the neighbors they observed with suspicion and vigilance aware of their 'secret', but they also went ahead and resurrected them.
That's why Blackager Boltagon accepted the request for a meeting at The Crystal; that's why his delegation was himself, his advisor, and his transport, no guards, and no posing to extol the majesty of Atilan's royalty.
He was there to express his gratitude, as was his duty as the representative of his people, and, on a personal side, something else which he had only discussed with his queen, Medusalith Amaquelin; he was looking for an alliance and, possibly, assistance in moving Atilan down to Earth, where the roots of the Sacred Tree could reach his people.
Aside from him and his queen, the one who understood best the Inhumans' situation was Victor von Doom.
Sometime ago, when Aragorn had explained some of the features of the Arbor Mundi and how it was created to have a million uses, a thought had crept into Doom's mind: What would happen to those beyond the roots' reach?
Doom could see it, beyond the Blackagar's facade, the fear that consumed him.
A competent ruler would not ever allow their fear, their weakness, to lead their decision-making. To this, however, there was an exception: a fear for their people's well-being.
Blackagar Boltagon didn't fear death, not in the sense that most do. What terrorized him, though, was the death of his people, losing his reason for being as the Inhumans' King. That well-founded fear is what prompted him to seek the safety of Earth's surface, where the shielding of the Arbor Mundi's roots was within reach.
What normally would have been a process of years was summarized to a few hours when one side desperately wanted what the other was offering, and the offering side was not trying to take advantage of the weaker side.
As Blackagar, Karnak, and Lockjaw were preparing to depart, Spark turned to Lockjaw and said, "You should come visit when Aragorn is around. He loves dogs."
The giant dog, after a moment of contemplation, barked in acknowledgement and warped away with his family, leaving the three of them staring into the empty space.
"What an interesting teleportation," Spark commented gleefully, as if she had discovered something that lay hidden beyond a 'normal' spatial displacement.
"That was easy," Fury commented. "... Too easy," his good eye narrowed in suspicion.
"What else could you expect?" Doom asked.
"When you said that we had them by the balls, I didn't think it would be to this extent," Fury said with a chuckle.
Doom turned to him with a questioning look and said, "I didn't say that."
"Oh, my apologies, your majesty, this commoner's vernacular is crass due to my lack of education and poor manners," Fury bowed like a repentant peasant.
Doom gave him no reaction; he understood Fury was still riding the high of having shot over 10,000 bullets through some unfortunate asshole owners.
━━━━━━━ ● ━━━━━━━
As more and more humans made it out of the refuges and, in some cases, were spit out of root cocoons, life began the arduous process of returning to normalcy.
The first time, a city had fallen—in retrospect, when comparing the damage with the following two apocalypses, it was such a minor event—and although humanity's paradigm shifted due to the introduction of 'fantastical' factors such as Alduin and Gaea, it was not that complicated to return to the routine.
For most of the world, the Green Door Event, the fall of Santiago, the Arbor Mundi, the renaming of Chile, and any other directly consequential event that followed were something they saw in the news.
It was impacting, just not world-shaking.
The second time, that's when shit blew up in a gayser of cosmic shit. The raining excrement got everyone, even those with a roof above their heads.
If it was not the direct repercussion of the clash of titans, it was what followed after. Famine, anarchy, cannibalism, the fall of many countries, and entire regions where civilization regressed to savagery. Then there was the economic crisis, which became the terror of all.
Terrifying didn't cut it. It was horror taken shape, the what-if of the terror scenarios even the craziest alarmists and conspiracy theorists could not dare to imagine.
Even to this day, when the first 'anniversary' had already been 'celebrated', the crisis was still going strong, and some countries were days away from falling apart.
Then came the third time... Actually, this time it was not that bad, which is why everyone was so confused.
"Did the world end, or not? Was the end of the world a blessing in disguise this time around?"
The news channels across the world wrestled each other for viewers with more clickbait titles than the last. They were, however, not mistaken in making these questions.
Aragorn had always said that Jean was a soft-hearted fool. Even after countless years spent training, her core had not changed. She remained just as soft-hearted.
When Aragorn defeated Kubos and used Opus Genus, the spell to conceptualize the form of a target, to turn it back into a wish-granting artifact, he didn't have the liberty to calculate the exact amount of energy and power needed to undo all that he and Kubos had broken, so he aimed to conceptualize it with as much energy as possible.
As a result, there was a certain excess of energy left even after undoing all the damage. Jean capitalized on this and used the remaining energy to fix some of the damage she had been unable to prevent during the Goblin Force's rampage.
So, while clickbait in nature and alarmist at their core, the news channels were right to question whether the divine incursion had been a blessing in disguise.
Aragorn had been clear when he handed the wishing well to Jean, no wishing anything related to [Soul], hence, Jean couldn't bring back all the ones that perished to the rampage or the subsequent famine, and they were too far back for her and Pietro to fish them out of the timestream like they had done for the ones that perished to Odin's tantrum.
But plant-life and soulless life were within her reach, which is what she wished back. So, for the first time since the collapse of the planet's agriculture, since they started eating processed sap from the Arbor Mundi, humanity could see the return of what made a civilization: agriculture.
So, the world almost ended, again, but this time, what was destroyed was fixed, the dead were brought back, and some of the damage dealt by the previous disaster was mitigated. What was this if not a blessing?
"If Odin were alive," Aragorn chuckled as he watched the news Irina was projecting with her P-Link.
"He would seethe in rage, knowing Midgard was celebrating him as the fool who fixed more than he destroyed," Irina completed what Aragorn was saying.
The base of the Arbor Mundi, this location that housed the entrance to Gaea's new crib and the entrance to Otherworld, had changed greatly in the span of less than a day.
Irina was assiduous in the care of Aragorn if nothing else, and she couldn't stomach having Aragorn, the being in her highest esteem, hovering at the base of the Arbor Mundi like that.
So she used her divinity to grow a low branch above Aragorn, with its large crystalline leaves working as a roof. Then she pulled one of the smaller lower roots, those that fed on the planet's magma, and had it heat up the nearest shores of the Blessed Lake, to create a thermal spring.
She used her telekinesis to flatten the ground and rearrange the nearby rock formations. She designed it all in a way that made it look as if nature itself had formed this way, in reverence of the flaming being that hovered a few feet off the ground. It was a natural shrine.
When her job was done, Irina recalled her clothing into her P-Link and took a dip into the warmly gushing hot spring.
With her feet lazily swaying in and out of the warm, blessed waters, her head nestled over a conveniently ergonomic stone covered in soft moss, she was cloud gazing while conversing and taking care of Aragorn.
"Have there been any news of Hart?' Aragorn asked.
Irina understood his concern was not born from care for Harry Hart; no, Aragorn only viewed him as a convenient tool for Jean's protection. His concern was born from knowledge of how many of the ancient and evil could make use of such a tool.
"No, Master," Irina shook her tall ears in denial. "Bucky's last report was that something smelled wrong in the Shadow Realm."
Aragorn grunted in acknowledgment. He could almost see it; even if Earth-5H1N3 had no future, it was all going to blow up in some manner.
"What about my P-Link?" Argaorn asked, trying to steer away from the topic.
"Spark and Seraph said they are preparing a replacement," Irina said with a smile. "I think they want to give you your first father's day present ever."
"Isn't that celebrated on the third Sunday of June?" Aragorn asked, mentally checking they were not even in June yet.
"Yes, Master, but since you have no necessities and most of everything you'll 'need' you create or make, they took this opportunity to make a P-Link for you," Irina explained.
"As happy as that makes me—" Aragorn's eye switched to joyful golden nebulae "—my P-Link is like a master key; that thing was complicated to create."
"Complicated how, Master?" Irina asked while observing her P-Link against the sunlit sky. Her P-Link was of a cerulean gem, just like her flames, and it was tear-shaped.
"It works as a backup to the Grand Repository of Knowledge," Aragorn revealed.
"Excuse me?" Irina asked with a twitching eyebrow.
The Grand Repository of Knowledge (GROK)started as a core server tower within the Halo; however, after Aragorn went to the past, to the Carboniferous, and began to scan, classify, and archive information in mass, at a scale that even caused Seraph and Spark to lag like an old PC, the GROK grew in size to the point that it had to be moved to one of the Satellite Planets of The Ark.
Technology progressed, and make no mistake, this is not the Imperium's technology we are referring to, and eventually Spark and Seraph managed to create new storage tech that surpassed what Aragorn had created, so the size of the GROK's server was eventually downscaled to the continental level.
Aragorn saw this and said, "Oh, so now I don't have to hold back?"
Seraph and Spark looked at Aragorn like surprised Pikachus.
When they saw Aragorn open more than a hundred eyes all over his skin and heard him say, "Now I can document some of ████ ███ ███████ ██ ████ ████ █████ █████ ██ ██████████," they felt that something broke in them.
It was not that Aragorn was using conceptual speech; it was that he was speaking of concepts that had not been assigned words, so he used his own words, and neither of the synthoids could even register in what spectrum he was speaking.
Eventually, because Aragorn managed to archive enough data to cover the entire planet's surface with server towers, the planet was remade into an ecumenopolis.
As a side note, the entire planet was harvested and destroyed while it was reformed into an ecumenopolis; it was the largest megaproject in the Imperium in the last 7,700 years.
So, when Aragorn said his P-Link, no larger than a pinky's nail, housed a backup of the GROK, aside from its many other functions, Irina has every reason to be surprised.
"It's paradoxical storage," Aragorn said, as if that explained anything.
"I'll need more than that, Master," Irina said.
"I can only give you the dumb down explanation, remember that at the moment I can't do complex thinking," Aragorn shrugged.
"Go on, Master," Irina said while turning around, her arms resting over the moss-covered rock that had been her pillow moments ago, her eyes sparkling with curiosity.
"I have all the knowledge of the GROK in my P-link, but only until I do," Aragorn explained.
"... Are you saying the knowledge isn't there until you need it?" Irina asked, interpreting Aragorn's stupid explanation.
"Yes," Aragorn nodded, his flames following, delayed, after the motion. "So, I like to call it Schrödinger's data."
"Until it's needed, it doesn't, but it does exist?" Irina asked, and Aragorn nodded. "Then, why didn't you use that for the GROK?"
"Paradoxes are beyond you, children," Aragorn replied.
"Then, isn't it unrealistic to expect your daughters to replace your P-Link?" Irina asked, seconds away from sharing the crushing news through the group chat.
"I don't expect them to recreate my P-Link; it's not needed," Aragorn said. "Besides, I would love whatever you give me."
"Why is it not needed?" Irina asked.
"Because my P-Link was not like me, beyond time," Aragorn revealed.
It took a moment for Irina to understand, but she got what he was implying; Aragorn could always, if needed, reach into the past and extract Schrödinger's data before it was destroyed by Kubos. Since the data doesn't exist but does exist in its entirety, he would not need to worry about updates; the moment it's extracted, it will house a complete copy of the GROK's most up-to-date data.
"..." Irina, upon reaching this conclusion, didn't reply and entered a contemplative mood.
She only broke out of her thinking when she felt Aragorn poking her lower lip with his telepathy.
"Ah, Master!" Irina exclaimed, startled.
"Your thinking pursed lip is endearing, my bunny," Aragorn said.
"I was just thinking, maybe this Schrödinger's data could be used for theoretical spatio-temporal storage, since we could store infinite data within the infinite time of the past," Irina explained.
"That's true, in theory," Aragorn agreed.
"Theory?" Irina questioned.
"Reality could not allow for an infinite number of paradoxes, even if they are benign," Aragorn clarified.
"... Ah," Irina said, like a child who realized they could not drive their bike fast enough to escape the rising Moon.
While he discussed with his bunny maid these and many more 'inane' topics, Aragorn was slowly resealing his memories of The Void, and Irina was enjoying her alone time with him.
She had spent the last millennia ascending to nine tails and growing her Star System and believers, so she lamented not having spent enough time with Aragorn.
That time was bound to come to an end. Irina's tall bunny ears twitched in a direction, and she slowly rose from the warm, healing waters. She used her telekinesis to push away the water from her naked body and recalled her maid attire from her P-Link. By itself, the clothes wrapped themselves over the maid, and she moved to stand to Aragorn's right, where she felt she belonged.
It was the second day after the Divine Incursion, and most of humanity had returned to the surface. The Domed City was one of the last to open the doors to its burrow.
Re-Nazca was a long country, about two-thirds of South America's length, and with Abner's backing, they had begun building the largest subway system in the world. They also moved their cities atop the gigantic roots of the Arbor Mundi.
As such, knowing that the Arbor Mundi had been ground zero for the incursion, it was not the entrance above the Domed City that was first opened. The refugees used the subway system—a work in progress—to reach the nearest cities and get an understanding of the situation at the base of the World Tree.
Only when they felt reassured, the base of the tree was not positively glowing in something like 'Divine Extreme Gamma Radiation', they ventured to open the doors above the Domed City.
Whether a show of respect, propaganda, or impossible happenstance, the first to make it out of the upper entrance was Matías Bolaños Sequeira, Re-Nazca's president.
The entrance was a few klicks away from the part of the Arbor Mundi's base where Aragorn stood, but that had been too close for comfort for Irina.
One of the roots that coiled around the tree's base served as the natural highway that delivered vehicles from the entrance to the south of Re-Nazca, in Aragorn's direction.
Matías Bolaños Sequeira and his staff, those who worked closely with Aragorn when it came to matters of Re-Nazca and the Arbor Mundi, arrived a few minutes later in a caravan escorted by the MDN (National Defense Ministry).
Re-Nazca, due to the sales of World Tree sap, had progressed greatly from the third-world country they used to be, and given how tight the new government kept a leash on corruption, most of the earnings had gone to where they meant to go, and not to the pockets of the few.
This brought a visible change to the country that had lost its capital city in the last days of 1999. This change could be visualized in the last model military vehicles that their army rode.
With hesitant steps, the president approached the flaming being that had been introduced as the fusion of Lord Alduin and Aragorn Abner.
With each step, he would look at Irina as if asking for permission and to gauge the situation. While Abner may have changed, the same maid with a cold demeanor that only smiled for Abner remained the same from his point of view. Of course, even if he had been able to see her increase in tails, he would not have suspected that she was now a goddess.
When he came to a respectable distance from Aragorn, he realized he was unsure of how to even begin. He didn't even know how to address this 'new' being. Thankfully, Aragorn picked up on his dilemma and assisted him.
"As Alduin, I had no other appellation, as Aragorn Abner, my last name belonged to my family, so after becoming more than Alduin and Aragorn Abner, I chose Aragorn as the cognomen that was truly mine," Aragorn said.
In reality, Aragorn had to put on a show when he interacted with humans of Earth-5H1N3, but he was tired of it and would rather not force himself to be all chummy with them. This fusion nonsense gave him the perfect opportunity to reinvent himself like a man after a bad breakup.
"Señor Aragorn, thank you," Matías said, his hands clasped together, almost as if in prayer. "What you, as our leader, Abner, and as our guardian, Lord Alduin, have sacrificed and done for us, for humanity, is something that we can't hope to repay."
Behind him, his vice-president, Clemencia Álvarez Rojas, expressed her gratitude in the same manner.
Not all of them were there, but most of those who worked with Aragorn Abner in the repair of Re-Nazca were present. To them, after gauging the change in Aragorn, it was as if their friend had passed to a better life.
"We'll work hard to keep striving for big, to keep up our young master mindset, as Señor Abner had taught us," one of them said with unshed tears pooling at the corners of their eyes.
"We'll never forget to include bright spaces and shiny lighting in our designs, as you instructed," Another, this one a woman, cried out loud. Her coworkers patted her back in reassurance and shed a few tears with her.
"The act of rights for fluffy animals will be voted for a pass during the next assembly, we'll honor you through it!"
"The benefits act for the pure-souled will come into effect in two weeks!"
"The Abner Hospital for Children will be inaugurated in 14 days!"
To Irina, who knew that Aragorn was training them like proteges, these declarations came not as a surprise.
Aragorn, pleased with the results of his efforts, ummu'ed in approval of their resolve and results.
To the Chileans, who came to the realization that Aragorn Abner was no more and that they could never work together again, this was a heartbreaking goodbye.
To a certain spy duo who had been assigned to the Domed City by Fury, they could not help but want to facepalm with enough force to shove their consciousness into the Astral Plane.
To Aragorn, it may have been a play, a role he assumed in front of them, but to them... Well, they care so much for Aragorn that they had barely spared a glance at the entrance to Otherworld; their focus was solely on expressing their feelings for their friend's passing.
Eventually, after having said their piece, and after Aragorn instructed them to keep under wraps what they saw—the entrance to Otherworld—they left. They had much work to do, and even if Jean had fixed the issue of the famine, they still had contracts to uphold when it came to the distribution of the sap, not to mention a country to run.
With their departure, Agent Coulson and Hill approached.
"Mr. Agent Coulson, Covergirl," Aragorn greeted with the same flippancy as ever, "I'm glad to see you lived through it without the need for an extra life."
"Mr. Aragorn," Coulson said.
"Aragorn is fine," Irina interjected. Coulson gave her a questioning look paired with one of his characteristic smiles. "It's a title more than a name. Master's true name causes cognitive damage."
A shiver crawled from their backs to their stomachs upon hearing that. Fury had painted a rough picture of what Aragorn was, he said, "Think of it like a godly nuisance, respect him just as much as you do Goddess Gaea. If you have any questions, ask him; what that monster cares for and doesn't is mostly a mystery to my very sane mind, thank you very much."
"Oh?" Aragorn voiced out in a somewhat sadistic tone. "Have you come to realize my grace, you feeble mortals?"
Irina, not to miss on her master's playful nature, cast an illusory lighting that attempted to make the stage right for Aragorn.
It was all very cinematographic and trendy, but the impassiveness in Irina's and Aragorn's expressions made it hard to appreciate.
"... S-Should we clap?" Hill whispered to Coulson.
"I have no idea what's going on, Hill," Coulson whispered back.
Aragorn chuckled to himself, and Irina smirked before dispelling the illusions.
"What brings you to my master?" Irina asked.
"Director Fury mentioned he sensed something going on here," Hill pointedly stared at the entrance to Otherworld, "we were asked to investigate and have a report ready by 1900 today."
"About this," Aragorn turned to the entrance, "I'm still deciding what to do with it."
"Aragorn, what is this?" Coulson asked, tasting what it felt like to call Aragorn without what he perceived as honorifics.
"Have you ever wondered what happened to the surviving mythological creatures?" Aragorn asked.
"I'll start by surmising they were not so mythological to begin with," Coulson said, his characteristic smile twitching a little.
"As far as I've seen," Aragorn said with a ruminative look, "most of the fantastical and mythological creatures/beings spoken of, at some point inhabited Earth, some of which left no records."
"..."
"..."
The agents didn't want to continue asking questions.
"I would like to hear that the answer to the question is that they all went to disappear and die peaceful deaths at the other side of that," Hill pointed at the entrance to Otherworld.
The entrance was unnatural, even its unnaturalness. It was a perfect square, about as tall as a 12-story building, and the edges between Reality and Otherworld were seamlessly straight.
There was no shroud of blue smoke, like a portal from the Space Stone, or a cloak of light, like Carol Danvers' portals to the Light Dimension, or twisted space, like the Celestials' singularity portals. It was as if someone had overlaid a picture of Otherworld over Reality.
"It's a realm Gaea created," Aragorn said. "When humanity gained a level, after suffering at the hands and whims of the magical creatures for ages, they were hunted down to extinction almost everywhere. In some places they lasted longer, in some others they chose to hide; nonetheless, the majority of them fled other realms, pocket dimensions, or left Reality altogether."
With vigilance, they eyed the entrance and shared looks of apprehension.
"How were they subjugated?" Coulson asked. "Magic is virtually omnipotent, Director Fury said."
"In every story with fantastical or mythological creatures or characters, don't they all have convenient weaknesses that allowed the humans, the underdogs, to persevere?" Irina pointed out.
"Most of the fae have found a weakness in cold Iron," Aragorn pointed out. "In modern times, I would be more afraid of them being enslaved and sold as commodities than them overtaking humanity."
"It would be easy to make iron-coated ammunition," Irina nodded. "The change in projectile mass would be minimal, and while the chamber wouldn't need much change, the barrels would likely require some reinforcement or more robust lining due to increased wear."
"And let's take a mythical Hydra," Aragorn added. "Nothing a load of napalm could not fix."
"Fire is a popular weakness," Irina pointed out. "Incendiary granades, Molotov cocktails, napalm, flamethrowers, and even some high-power lasers would do for most cases."
"And, if things are reaching the point, then you can always nuke them," Aragorn said.
"So long as they have not burned through their nuclear arsenal," Irina added as an afterthought. "On that matter, what will happen with WWIII. Will it resume?"
"Possibly, given the little damage they suffered," Aragorn said.
"But, Master, with the famine issue fixed, won't they have no casus belli?" Irina countered.
"Ah, you're right... Wait, humans only need an excuse for war, remember WWI?" Aragorn asked.
While the maid and master shuffled through reasons humanity could use to put a stop to or continue with the nuclear war, Coulson and Hill's expressions grew in horror as they listened to them talk.
Even with them, Fury's trusted—as much as Fury could trust a human—Aragorn had kept the human facade. Now, the more they talked, the agents could sense the lack of care with which Aragorn and Irina dealt with humanity.
It was not coldness exactly, and not indifference either; it was the same tone they had heard from a few of their scientists when talking about their animal—and sometimes human—experimentation. It was clinical detachment, professional interest.
"So they'll still fight for the right to claim the sprout at Point Nemo?" Irina asked.
"Most likely," Aragorn nodded. "I think Doom still wants to keep that there."
That comment halted the thoughts of both agents.
"What do you mean?" Hill asked, making sure to keep her tone professional, despite the growing unease.
Aragorn and Irina, in natural coordination, tilted their heads in confusion at the question. Coulson, understanding they did not follow Hill's question, added, "About keeping the sprout at Point Nemo. Are you implying you can remove it from the board?"
Aragorn, still with confusion laced in his eyes, nodded, and, much to the agents' horror, Irina made a motion with her hand, and invisible divinity was fed to the tree, which in response made one of its thinner roots breach from under the Sacred Lake and wave in greeting at the agents.
"If you have the corresponding authority and the know-how, you can use Viridis Magic to control the Arbor Mundi," Irina explained. "Or you can use divinity, but only from our pantheon, and you have to be given permission as well."
"..."
"..."
Once more, the agents found themselves without words.
"Could you pull the sprout down and place it out of reach?" Hill dared to ask.
"It's possible," Irina nodded with Aragorn. "But, why?"
"... To put an end to the war," Coulson said after swallowing a lump of something cold.
"But the war is the expression of your free rein, why would you want to part with it?" Aragorn asked.
"..."
"..."
After that question, with the wisdom brought about by their training, Coulson and Hill decided to shift back to the topic of the entrance to Otherworld.
After 30 minutes, once they had the report they needed, they returned to the Domed City to catch a quinjet to the USA.
The government of Re-Nazca made public their compromise with "Aragorn," and soon the world knew where to find him. Naturally, this did not mean that he was about to be swarmed by a mood of overeager primates. Re-Nazca, after all, had made a cordon around Aragorn, at a distance Irina deemed proper—beyond the horizon—and, as always, access to the Arbor Mundi was heavily restricted.
There were those for whom distance was but a suggestion. So, a few minutes after the news had been made public, a star-shaped portal opened a few feet away from Aragorn.
Pouty like the hormone-filled teenager she was, America Chavez approached Aragorn and made her intentions, meaning, and deeper thoughts known with a "Hmph!"
"How pouty," Aragorn said with a smirk that didn't reflect that much in his featureless flaming mien.
"Your hair is a mess," Irina commented and stepped behind her to fix her nest of hair.
"Do you know how many portals I opened?" America asked in exasperation.
Due to the versatility and absoluteness of her portals, America had been drafted to assist Krakoa. She was not bragging; she did open portals like crazy while the mutants were defending against the deities that attacked the floating island.
"Didn't you say that you were used to world-altering crises?" Aragorn asked with a knowing undertone.
"... Bullshit!" America roared as if objecting in the court of law. "This was not world-altering! This was cosmo-toppling! Not even Galactus was this much of a crisis!"
"Naturally," Irina said from behind her while she combed her hair with a comb for curly hair.
"What do you mean?" America asked.
"Boss Galactus is one of the good guys," Aragorn said. "Why would he go on a maddened rampage like these fellows?"
"What?!" America exclaimed as if she had just heard someone claiming Hitler was right.
"Child," Aragorn said with a pitying look, "Do you think existence is all about rainbows and kumbaya?"
"If it were not Galactus," Irina added, "someone else would have taken over the role."
"Most certainly me," Aragorn pointed at his chest with his tail. "I have the affinity to be a great devourer."
"Devour this one!" A sex-reeking, vulgar vulpine goddess interrupted.
""..."" Blushing teenager, maid, and master both gave Yelena a look of judgment.
Wordlessly, Irina accessed the System's chat.
⌈BunnyMaidOfFire: She succumbed to temptation, it's official. Who had 24 hours of non-stop sex?
FastestIncubusAlive: Damn! Is Johnny alive? I had six hours; I figured beyond that, my bro would cave in or ascend to godhood.
DarthKitty: Damn it! I was close! I had 20 hours; she must have pulled that breastmilk trick.
DemonQueen: I had 23 hours. I almost landed myself a new pocket dimension. I wanted it for my twins.
Butler: Greetings from the Shadow Realm. I had 36 hours, I thought Johnny boy could use that flame of his to propel himself towards the legendary status and get his name recorded on the Light Scale.
FastestIncubusAlive: #NeverForgetKav'Juhus.
Butler: #NeverForgetKav'Juhus.
VladNotTheImpaler: #NeverForgetKav'Juhus.
NeetDragon: #NeverForgetKav'Juhus. P.S. Who changed my username again?
GoddessOfDragons: Are you spending more time under the sun, son?
NeetDragon: Yes, Mom. Take a look. Pic0234asfjgf.pic
GoddessOfDragons: ... Son.
VladNotTheImpaler: ... Son.
SexiestRedCat: ... Grandson.
StarsnStripes: ... Grandson.
Butler: ... Grandson.
MargaRed: ... Grandson. P.S. Who keeps changing my username?
MargaRed-> Peggy.
NeetDragon-> Plutus.
Firebird: Drako, is that why you asked me for an artificial sun?
Plutus: I figured an artificial sun in my cave would make everybody happy.
343Guilty2B: Guess what?... I had 24 hours!
ImperatrixFox: Figures the sex obsessed AI would get it right.⌋
"... Were you guys betting on whether I'd lay with Johnny or not?" Yelena asked, mouth agape.
"Certainly not," Irina shook her head decisively. "Is there an idiot who would take that losing bet?"
"Obviously," Aragorn joined, "the bet was on how long you would suck Johnny Storm dry."
"Agh!!!" America shouted, the conversation breaking through her tolerance limit of adult conversation topics. "Please stop! I don't want to listen to this anymore! I shouldn't!"
"Go over there, child," Aragorn said while picking America with his telekinesis and floating her to the steaming shallows of the Sacred Lake. Unceremoniously, he undressed her and submerged her to her shoulders in the blessed hot spring.
It all happened so fast, so seamless, and the water was so pleasantly warm and blessed with just the right amount of Gaea's divinity, that the teenager didn't even have the time to shrill at the affront to her privacy before she was relaxed into blissful ignorance by the comfort.
"You guys are unbelievable," Yelena tried to act offended, but she couldn't. She felt no slight offence at her family's betting.
"So, what happened," Aragorn asked, "after the sex, I mean."
".. We downgraded to friends with benefits," Yelena said, slumping her shoulders.
"I can respect that," Aragorn nodded.
"It's better than a total breakup," Irina added.
"Aragorn, what do you mean?" Yelena asked.
"You were both idiotic in that promise; the realistic path was breaking up. Regardless, given that the promise was made, and despite how your circumstances were understandable, you broke your promise," Aragorn explained. "That fool, he probably couldn't part with you, which is why you stand between breaking up and staying together."
"... He could have forgiven me," Yelena pouted.
"Selfish bitch," Irina commented.
"Irina! I don't want to hear that from you. No one is more selfish than you," Yelena spat back.
"And what does that mean?" Irina asked in a tone of offense.
"Aside from the Madame, you hog Aragorn's attention the most! Even more than Seraph!" Yelena exposed the dirty laundry. "You should just ask Madame permission and get Aragorn here to drill you to the bed."
"How crass," Aragorn commented like a bystander.
"That's it!" Irina rolled up her sleeves. "I'll shut that filthy mouth of yours!"
"Hoh?!" Yelena rolled up her sleeves. "I'll shove those pouty lips into my asshole!"
"You would like that, won't you, nymphomaniac slut?!" Irina shot back.
"Of course I would! I'll use those sexy ears of yours like reins while I ride your face!" Yelena shot(?) back, or maybe she was flirting; with her, it was hard to tell.
Reality shimmered like a kaleidoscopic mirror, and the Mirror Dimension swallowed them.
"So," Aragorn said. "How's life been treating you?"
America let out a blissful sigh before replying in a slow cadence, "It was alright the first few hours of your absence, then everything went to shit."
"Language," Aragorn admonished.
"Ah, sorry," America shyly apologized before correcting herself, "excrement."
Aragorn thought hard for a moment, to the limit of what he currently could do, and shrugged, "Fair enough."
"Jean disappeared, that's what I came to ask about," America said.
"She'll be busy for a while; she has to end a certain galactic empire," Aragorn spoke as if discussing the weather.
"That's," the news brought America out of her blissful retirement from Reality. "What do you mean? Please explain."
"Do you know anything about the Shi'ar?" Aragorn asked.
"I think a princess of them was one of Professor X's ex-wives," America said.
"Those guys did something they shouldn't have..." Aragorn paused in thought before continuing, "Or maybe narrowing it down to a singular something is wrong. Those guys screwed up big time a few times in a row, and Phoenix and I have called for their annihilation."
"This..." America asked with horrific realization, "You don't mean all of them, do you?"
Aragorn didn't reply immediately.
"Right?" America asked, almost pleaded.
"Child, remember what I said about Galactus?" Aragorn asked. "This might crush your view of Reality, but the Cosmologic Compass doesn't have the time, energy, need, want, or reason to make Reality idyllic.
"This is something we know. Reality is not evil, Reality is not good, Reality is not warm, Reality is not cold, Reality simply... is.
"This is Jean's test, her final lesson, and as such, as all lessons that are worth it are, it will not be an easy one for my Firebird," Aragorn explained.
"B-But, you said we should not harm pure souls when possible. This feels like one of those times when it's possible," America pleaded.
"It is not, America," Aragorn shook her head. "The lesson this time is precisely about doing right by Reality, even at the expense of pure souls."
"..."
"..."
America didn't say anymore; she pleaded with her eyes, but Aragorn remained unmoved.
Something in her broke that day. She walked out of the water and didn't even notice when Aragorn's telekinesis dried her, and his magic dressed her. She punched a star-shaped portal and paused before stepping through, and said, "I'll think about it," before warping away.
An hour later, Irina and Yelena stepped out of the Mirror Dimension, no worse for wear, their bond as unbreakable as ever.
Irina stood to Aragorn's right, and Yelena to his left.
If he noticed, he didn't show it. Aragorn remained unmoving, fixing all that had been damaged.
The same day, when the Sun had dipped below the horizon, and the Arbor Mundi reflected the starlight in the new moon night, the last visitors of the day arrived.
It was a surprise for all of the Haloans present.
First of all, they were not in the United States, and these gentlemen had little pull in Re-Nazca, and that was being generous in their evaluation, so it was a surprise that the Chileans allowed them passage.
Second of all, these gentlemen had tried and failed multiple times to take Aragorn down or capture his 'fiancée', Jean Grey, and/or daughter, Seraph Abner. They were clearly his enemies, the type that knew it and avoided Aragorn like the plague.
Third and last of all, and possibly most peculiar, these gentlemen were dying. Not in the sense that all mortals were dying since the moment they stopped growing and their telomeres began shortening. They were dying in the sense that they were terminal.
They were moving in hovering gurneys, a product of black-site technology of the army of the United States of America. This all made the visit even more peculiar.
"Ross, Stryker," Aragron greeted with no entonation and no care for plesantries. "It's a surprise you were allowed to reach us. How big a donation did you make to Re-Nazca's army?"
"Abner," Ross croaked, his voice hoarse, like that of a fifty-year smoker.
"Aragorn," Aragorn corrected.
"H-Hydra," Stryker spat, literally, he spat a blood clot.
"Oh, so they attempted to reel you in?" Aragorn asked, listless, as if he cared not for their suffering, nor did he enjoy it.
"There's no need to pretend," Roos coughed out. "Alduin, Abner, it is all you."
"Oh, how enviable your sources are," Aragorn said in a flat tone. "Is that what you thought I would say? Just get to the point. You stink like corpses, and my bunny here is suffering."
Both men glanced at the equally inexpressive maid behind Aragorn.
"She is too professional to gag," Aragorn continued, "but you can get a better picture if you look at my fox."
The men shifted their gaze to Yelena, finding a pair of ice squeezers pinching her nose shut.
"We are dying," Ross managed to say before losing all air. He was operating with half a lung; the rest had all metastasized.
The peculiar thing about their cancer was that despite having different sources, Ross' being an impossible form of leukemia, and Stryker's being cancer granted by the awakening of his X-gene, both forms of cancer were virtually the same. Both were suffering through the same nightmare.
"We don't make past this month," Stryker added.
"Ehh," Aragorn made a sound. "Try three days. You have three days, and you'll be dead within 40 minutes or so from each other. Have you contacted your daughter, Ross? No one survives you, do they, Stryker?"
Both dying men were lost for words for a moment.
"I can't leave Betty behind." Ross gritted his teeth in pain; a blood vessel burst in his right eye.
"Why not? Isn't your fatherhood characterised by the superposition of your duty over her wellbeing? You left her behind plenty of times. What's one more going to do?" Aragorn mercilessly asked before turning to Stryker. "And you? What's your elevator pitch?"
"My connections, resources cough—" blood flowed down his chin "—tech, genetics, all of it. It's all yours."
"Stryker, you must be kidding, right?" Aragorn dismissed his offer with almost disgust. "To someone like me, someone who built the Halo, a ringworld, established connections in the planet's stead with the galactic empires, pioneered medicine, genetics, and had the government by the balls, do you think there's anything your pitifulness can offer?"
Worse of all was that Stryker understood Aragorn mentioned some of his less impressive feats.
"M-My adamantium," Stryker pleaded with a desperate look.
Argorn levitated a rock to Strker's eye level and transmutated it into adamantium right in front of his tear-stricken face.
"I-I... I can't die, not like this, like a monster!" Stryker cried in despair.
By this time, the mutant inhibitor collars had already been invented, and Stryker thought of escaping his curse by collaring himself, but Aragorn's pittiness was not simple. Stryker's mutation was on the Omega-level; it was not something his inhibitor collar could affect.
"If that is your concern, then all you had to do was say it," Aragorn replied. "By the power vested in me by myself, I declare all mutants human," he proclaimed. "Let it be known, henceforth, that no mutant shall be a monster. Let it be known that William Stryker was not made a monster by his mutation; his actions made him one."
"... Y-You're the real monster," Stryker howled.
"Cry me a river," Aragorn flatly replied.
Faster than Ross could perceive, but not faster than Aragorn, Irina, and Yelena could, Stryker pulled out a gun and shot the roof of his mouth.
BANG!
"No, no, no," Aragorn said, wagging his index finger in a no-no gesture. "Suicide is a sin, and you're a Christian, a man of faith. We can't have this."
Ross' eyes widened in horror and realization.
Yelena understood what Aragorn wanted and aimed her palm at the corpse. A green circle manifested in front of her palm, and runic bands coiled around her forearm. She twisted counterclockwise, and like playing a video in reverse, Stryker was denied his right to suicide.
"W-Wh-NO! NO! NO!" Stryker roared. The shock was too much for his dying body, and he fell unconscious.
If Ross thought Aragorn couldn't be crueler, he was proven wrong by Aragorn's next command.
"Yelena, inscribe it in him," he ordered. "Make sure he can't die from anything else but natural causes."
Yelena did as instructed, and then, unprompted, she approached Ross' gurney.
"What are you doing?!" Ross demanded, trying to steer the gurney away from her, but it was locked in place by her telekinesis.
"I don't want you to succumb to weakness, General," Yelena replied.
"N-No! Nononononono! It was you! YOU! YOU DID THIS!" He roared in madness, or maybe enlightenment. "YOu Cause thISSS!!!"
For the first time since they arrived, Ross saw an expression in Aragorn's featureless flaming face. His red eyes squinted, like when someone smiles.
"General, didn't I order no one to touch, or even think about, Extreme Gamma Radiation?" Aragorn demanded, his eyes squinting into slits. "Why you thought you were flying under my radar is beyond me. I became attuned to that thing when I died the first time to it."
"yYoU CAN't dO thIS!" Ross roared. The effort had his eyes crying tears of blood, and his jaw dislocated from how frail his body was.
"Ross, you can't work on Extreme Gamma Radiation, yet you steered your interest to it. This is the same, you say I can't, but I did," Aragorn replied.
"You should be grateful, General," Yelena said after she finished inscribing the spell in him.
"GRateful?" he asked, stunned by how surreal it all appeared to him.
"Grateful that my master is only killing you," Yelena replied with a sweet smile that had no place in her attractive face. "No, go! Spend your last days on Earth with your daughter. At least you got someone, that guy divorced his wife after she miscarried a mutant fetus," Yelena pointed with disgust at the passed-out Stryker.
Yelena waved her hand and opened a portal before pushing the gurneys through it. Beyond the horizon, their escort awaited them.
"Master," Yelena said. "About that miscarriage... You once said that his son would be an undesirable variant..."
"Yes, I caused the miscarriage," Aragorn confessed.
"Why?" Yelena's question came without judgment.
"His son was going to be a Cassandra Nova case," Aragorn explained. "I haven't been able to track down Xavier's sister. I don't need another of those."
"I see," Yelena said, pensive.
"What are you thinking?" Aragorn asked.
"As a mother myself, I think I would have killed the mother too," she said.
"Well, like Cassandra, this soul was somehow not pure, so I only targeted the fetus; the mother bore no more sin than a regular human does," Aragorn said.
"... I think I understand... Still, I think the mother would have preferred to have died with her baby," Yelena commented.
With that last visit, the day came to an end. The maids pulled out their giant bean bags and fell asleep next to Aragorn, under the chilly, starry night.
At some point, when the stars shone their brightest, Aragorn stretched both hands left and right and managed to touch his maid's head without phasing through.
While caressing their head and cuddling them with his energy control, Aragorn thought back to what Yelena had said and muttered, "Maybe I would also go mad if I lost any of you."
╚═══━━━─── • ───━━━═══╝
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{A/N:
Please check out my P@treon account! There are already 10 chapters ahead for premium members, which is at least 100,000 words. Premium members also gain access to a new chapter every week.
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