How should the Flügel be created?
This was a question Selene needed to study from War God Artosh.
Using the power of the 'Suniaster,' Selene was able to swiftly and harmlessly strip away the potential for the Old Deus of Disboard to gain vitality, without causing damage to the world itself, and completely severed the root of their birth.
It was a thorough severing and killing.
Not the so-called eternal slumber that comes from losing their 'essence of divinity.'
In the world of Disboard, the Old Deus manifested according to wishes, born from the planet's concepts, gaining corporeal reality through desire and prayer, thereby obtaining their 'divine essence.'
So long as the world endured, so too would the Old Deus.
Just like War God Artosh, who was stripped of his 'divine essence' in the ancient war at the near cost of the entire Ex-Machina race. Strictly speaking, Artosh had not died, but only slumbered. Should he regain 'divine essence,' he would awaken once more.
The same applied to Ocain, the Forge God of the Dwarves, and Kainath, the Forest God of the Elves. They had merely been defeated temporarily. With their essence restored, they too would return.
Although the One True God, Tet, would never allow it.
Now, however, the One True God of Disboard was Selene. Her methods were far harsher than Tet's. Instead of using the Suniaster to forcibly bind the world into a game-decided system, Selene struck at the very foundation.
She redefined the planetary concept itself. From then on, all prayers and wishes for War, Forests, Forging… would point directly to Selene.
I am the God of War, the God of Forests, the God of Forging… the God of All! All prayers, all essences belong to me. I am the gods!
Suppression? That was too small-minded. Let them bloom without restraint!
The concept of victory over Artosh had already been consumed—or rather, replaced—by Selene. In a sense, War God Artosh had become just another of Selene's countless incarnations.
The original purpose, methods, and memories Artosh used to create the Flügel were now naturally in Selene's grasp.
"The first quickening has begun. Azril, are you ready to welcome new members of the Flügel?"
Selene tore open the gate to the garden hidden within the seams of Imaginary Space, where new life was being nurtured. Within, the sea of Imaginary particles carried a faint fragrance, its viscous haze drifting like sheer curtains, stirred gently by the opened gate.
Looking out, crystalline Honkai eggs the size of humans were already forming within the garden. In Azril's mismatched blue-gold eyes, a mist of tears shimmered with emotion.
"…A thousand embryos. A thousand new sisters…"
Her body's functions, unbound by physical limits, allowed her to count the embryos at a glance.
"My Empress…"
Azril restrained her trembling excitement, lifted her head to seek Selene's approval, then collapsed without dignity at the edge of the rift. Her glowing emerald hair veiled her face, but Selene could faintly see the tears gathering in her eyes.
"At last… my lie was not in vain. The Flügel have not perished under my watch…"
How interesting. By all rights, Selene was the creator and mother goddess. Yet on Azril's shoulders shone a light that left Selene speechless—motherhood.
The eldest sister is as a mother…
Selene traced the smooth base of her porcelain teacup, sipping lightly, then smiled and turned her gaze away.
After all, it had been six thousand years of numb waiting for death, holding alone the burden of a kind lie. The one who always smiled like an angel, carefree and silly, seen by her kin as a fool without dignity… had merely been hiding her lonely heart.
"Don't be so quick to tears. This is my promise. Azril, you must teach them well."
Selene, after all, preferred tranquility.
For playful teasing, only a very small few were needed—Alyssa, Kiana, Jibril… those were enough.
Among the newborn Flügel, it would be better to have fewer of the obsessed types like Jibril, and more of the steady types like Azril.
Like lively children, they could indeed bring joy and relaxation—but everything must have its measure. Too many lively, mischievous children would only fray one's nerves.
"This is just the first batch of family members. Once Jibril's combat data is collected…"
Selene rose, gazing into the rift at the Flügel embryos. She placed a hand on Azril's trembling shoulder and said warmly, "Azril, as the eldest sister, your responsibility is heavy."
Before her words even faded—
Crack—crack—
Sustained by Selene's unending energy supply…
One by one, crystalline shells turned transparent. Graceful silhouettes gradually emerged within them.
Geometric halos spun to life first, followed by pairs of small, luminous wings woven of light.
It was well known that, on Disboard, spirit particles were concentrated at the erogenous zones of living beings.
Even though Selene had converted their energy source into Imaginary particles, the Flügel's bodies still concentrated them in their halos and wings. Thus, naturally, these were the first to form.
Azril steadied her emotions, straightened, and looked at Selene, taking a deep breath. "Yes, Your Majesty!"
Selene returned to her seat and waved a hand. "Go now. And mind your people—don't let them get too wild. Perhaps, you will also accompany me to the frontlines…"
...
Here lay a world of nothing but dimness. The darkness stretched on endlessly, void of all things. The starry sky pressed down like a suffocating blanket.
A colossal cosmic rift split the universe like a terrible scar. Silent, desolate, yet steeped in eerie mystery.
Chaotic black clouds, defying the laws of the real cosmos, swirled here, as though clutching at the jagged ridges of vast valleys. Fragmented asteroid belts piled haphazardly made this place resemble a three-dimensional labyrinth.
Ancient floating monoliths stacked like blocks, tier upon tier, moving in precise trajectories. They formed pillars, deliberately arranged into shapes that seemed to focus cosmic energy.
Suddenly—"Amon—!!"
As though a great will tolled a bronze bell beside the ear, countless gray and pale violet tendrils surged forth from the rift. Like two ferocious deep-sea krakens, they grappled furiously, while innumerable tendrils lashed outward into the void. It was like watching a drop of paint fall into a colorless glass of water—the gray and violet hues tangled, and in an instant filled this ancient place.
"To meddle wantonly with the universe, with the evolution of life—your reckless will has stirred the storms of the void! The rift is widening! The outer evil gods are stirring. You sense it too, don't you? That ominous aura…"
"Amon! Cease this! You will destroy everything, including yourself!"
It roared, struggled, lamented.
"No—!! I refuse! Ouros! The cycle must be broken! You cannot stop me!"
"The mission of the Xel'Naga, the endless cycle—it is a lie! Even destruction is better than meaningless repetition! I alone am right!!"
The voice was madness, terror, hysteria.
"You have fallen completely, Amon!"
"Fallen? No, it is you who are fallen! You Xel'Naga, and your cycle!"
They tore at each other, their clash rooted in irreconcilable ideologies. Though of the same kind, they showed no mercy.
Soon, the gray tendrils weakened, faltered, and were once more forced down into the void. Only the pale violet tendrils remained, flailing wildly, glowing with an ominous crimson aura.
"Ouros, Ulnar shall be your tomb!"
This was Ulnar.
The cradle of cosmic life, nestled within the rift—a temple once home to the Xel'Naga. Here, on Ulnar, they had scattered the seeds of life throughout the universe.
Once teeming with vitality and creation… but all that was long gone. Now only death and ruin remained.
When all was done, resistance was bound, and destruction and madness prevailed. Beyond the cosmic rift, a vast, indescribable being fixed its deranged, malicious, and destructive gaze upon this war-torn universe.
"Watch closely, Ouros. The laughable cycle shall end by my hand…"
...
On the edge of the Koprulu Sector.
Char, once one of the thirteen core worlds of the Terran Confederacy.
Its surface lay smothered in volcanic ash, its atmosphere thick with acrid fumes. From the beginning, it was deemed uninhabitable, a volatile, dangerous world of many volcanoes. Yet it proved a blessing in disguise.
Bathed in the high cosmic radiation of a Class VI sub-white dwarf designated F0 and an irregular variable star designated M8, Char held vast deposits of heavy metals.
Thus it became one of the Confederacy's core worlds, fueling its rapid economic growth.
But that was long past. With the Confederacy fallen and the Dominion risen on its corpse, Char had become the Zerg's haven—known throughout the Koprulu Sector as the Zerg's primary hive world.
Now, in Char's orbit, a swarm fleet blotted out the stars.
At the call of the Queen of Blades, Zerg broods from Char and beyond departed their spawning worlds to gather here.
Across the void between stars, countless Zerg spacefaring organisms swarmed together.
Among them were Leviathans, the largest known lifeforms in the universe. Like stars radiating light, they propelled themselves through space on their own energy. Their thick hides, full of folds and sacs, housed numerous lesser Zerg, shielding them from radiation and the cold of space.
Though these Leviathans bore no weapons and almost no defensive capability, their immense strength and unwavering loyalty made them the swarm's living arks, ferrying the Zerg across the stars.
Their armored hides turned these colossal creatures into living starships. Under the coordination of endless Overlords and Queens, multitudes of Zerg assembled in terrifying obedience to the Queen of Blades' command.
"Zeratul… I need an explanation."
Within the organic chamber of a Leviathan, a woman's deep voice echoed in the darkness.
Lit faintly by creep and psionic glow, her tall, slender figure emerged.
But rather than alluring, her presence would terrify.
She bore vast skeletal wings, each side formed of eight barbed, curled claws. Her human form was encased in organic chitinous plating, her hair segmented like dark bone spines.
Perhaps the only comfort was her graceful figure and striking features. In the dark, with her face alone… well, one could pretend…
At that moment, her mood was anything but pleasant.
"Zerus—the so-called birthplace of the Zerg. Was it a lure you cast, or a trap to confuse my sight? I had scarcely given the order to gather before I lost a broodmother, and an entire brood was wiped out."
"To annihilate a brood so swiftly under its mother's command—within the Koprulu Sector, only your Protoss come to mind. The Spear of Adun… surely not Arcturus Mengsk, that decrepit old bastard?"
Sensing the Queen of Blades' ire, Hydralisks optimized with exoskeletal enhancements reared up, their armored spines protruding, unleashing threatening hisses.
"A broodmother's brood annihilated?"
Unlike the golden grandeur of the Protoss High Templars, this Dark Templar—this Prelate of the Shadows—was far humbler. Save for simple armor on shoulders, knees, and ankles, his only notable armament was his warp blade. The rest of him looked like a wanderer clad in rags.
The very image of a weary, wandering swordsman.
Zeratul lifted his head. Upon his elongated face glowed faint green eyes, as dim as the few adornments on his tattered armor. He shook his head.
"No… It was not Artanis. He is consumed with uniting the two halves of Protoss society. His mind is set only on reclaiming Aiur. If he were to strike, it would be Aiur, not here."
"Kerrigan, I need more details. I will attempt to connect to your psionic link. I must know everything."
On Kerrigan's face, streaked with eerie violet markings, flickered a hint of surprise. "And you are not afraid I will seize the chance to kill you—or control you?"
"No. You will not. Jim Raynor still waits for you. Our goals are aligned. And… there is no time, Kerrigan."
"Hmph! Let's hope you're right."
—
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