Otto
The vast, arched windows of the Schicksal Headquarters offered a view that few mortals would ever see.
Below, the sea of clouds shifted in slow, rhythmic tides, bathed in the artificial twilight of the floating fortress.
It was a view of absolute detachment, a place where the squabbles of the world below felt insignificant, like ants fighting over a crumb.
Otto Apocalypse stood before the glass, his reflection ghostly against the white expanse. In his hand, a crystal glass of red wine caught the light, the liquid swirling with a viscosity that reminded him of blood.
The silence of the room was absolute, a perfect, sterile vacuum that he had cultivated over centuries.
Until a soft chime broke it.
"Overseer," the voice of Amber, his personal assistant, filtered through the comms. Her tone was, as always, devoid of emotion, yet there was a hesitation in the cadence that Otto picked up on immediately.
"We have received the post-mission report from the Immortal Blade regarding the engagement in the Pacific theater."
Otto took a slow sip of wine, savoring the complex notes on his tongue before replying. "Proceed, Amber. I assume Durandal made short work of the Anti-Entropy fleet?"
"She did. The AE forces were routed within twenty minutes of engagement. However..."
Amber paused.
"However?" Otto prompted, turning away from the window to face the massive holographic display in the center of the room.
"There was an irregularity regarding the engagement protocol," Amber continued. "The Immortal Blade's flight path was compromised prior to arrival. Our logs indicate that Principal Theresa Apocalypse broadcasted Durandal's coordinates on an open, unsecured frequency."
The hologram flared to life, displaying a tactical map of the Pacific. A bright red line, Durandal's path, was shown intersecting with a cluster of blue Anti-Entropy markers.
"According to St. Freya's report," Amber added, "it was a communications error caused by equipment malfunction due to the high-density Honkai levels in the region. Principal Theresa has submitted a formal apology for the clumsy mistake."
Otto stared at the report. The words "Clumsy Mistake" hovered in his mind. For a long moment, the room was silent.
And then, Otto laughed.
It wasn't a mocking laugh, nor was it the cold chuckle of a villain plotting demise. It was a genuine, delighted sound that echoed off the high ceilings.
"A mistake?" Otto mused aloud, walking closer to the hologram. He reached out, his fingers tracing the flight path Theresa had leaked.
"An equipment malfunction? Oh, my dear granddaughter. You really must work on your lying. It has improved, certainly, but you still hesitate at the finish line."
'Clumsy.'
That was the word she wanted him to believe. She wanted him to see the Theresa who read comic books and shirked paperwork. The Theresa who stumbled over her own feet when the pressure got too high.
But Otto knew better. He had raised her. He had built her. And he knew that Theresa Apocalypse did not make clumsy mistakes when lives were on the line.
He swiped his hand through the air, dismissing Amber's summary and pulling up the raw tactical data.
He looked at the timing. The leak had occurred exactly twelve minutes before Durandal would have reached the airspace over Nagazora.
If Durandal had arrived on schedule, she would have secured the area immediately. She would have seen everything.
She would have seen him. Otto's eyes narrowed, a gleam of interest sharpening his gaze.
"As I predicted. You didn't leak the coordinates by accident," he whispered to the empty room. "You threw the strongest Valkyrie in Schicksal into a dogfight with Anti-Entropy... just to keep her busy."
It was a brilliant, ruthless move.
Theresa had sacrificed a strategic advantage—the element of surprise—and risked a geopolitical incident, all to buy a few precious minutes of privacy.
She had treated Durandal, her own ally, not as a comrade, but as a piece on the board to be maneuvered. A rook sacrificed to save a king.
Otto took another sip of wine, a twisted sense of pride swelling in his chest.
For years, Theresa had played the role of the rebel. She had built St. Freya as a sanctuary, a place where Valkyries were treated as people, not weapons. She had preached about protecting the innocent, about transparency and trust.
And yet, here she was. Lying to her superiors, manipulating the battlefield, and sacrificing the safety of her strongest soldier to protect a secret she was hoarding for herself.
"I know you despise me, Theresa," Otto murmured, his reflection in the hologram smiling back at him. "You built that school to be the antithesis of everything I stand for. And yet..."
He tapped the screen, bringing up a blurred, satellite-captured image from the center of the Nagazora ruins. It was just a smudge of red and pink light, clearing the clouds in an instant.
"And yet, you are following in my footsteps perfectly."
'To protect the one you love... You must become a monster to everyone else.'
It was the lesson he had learned five hundred years ago, standing before the gallows of Kallen Kaslana. It was the philosophy that had driven him to commit atrocities in the name of love.
And now, Theresa was learning it too.
She wasn't hiding this boy, this "Kenji Aoyama," to protect the world from him. That much was obvious. Nor was she trying to protect him.
She was hiding him to keep him for herself. To use him.
But for what? That is the true question.
"Bravo," Otto whispered, raising his glass in a mock toast to the distant, rebellious academy. "You are finally growing up, my dear."
A light blinked on his console.
Otto's smile widened.
"And now," he said, setting his glass down. "Let us see what the Shadow has to say about your little secret."
Priority Zero.
It was a channel reserved for Schicksal's most critical assets. A direct line that bypassed the Overseer's secretaries, the intelligence division, and even Amber.
Otto set his wine glass down on the obsidian desk, the crystal making a sharp clink against the surface.
He adjusted his collar, smoothing out an invisible crease, before tapping the interface.
"Connect."
The holographic emitters in the center of the room flared. They did not project a map or a data stream this time.
Instead, they coalesced into the shimmering, blue-tinted figure of a young woman in a St. Freya uniform.
She stood at attention, both her posture and expression a mask of perfect discipline.
"Overseer," Fu Hua greeted, her voice calm and clear.
"Old friend. It is rare for you to use this frequency. I assume the situation in the Far East has escalated to a point requiring my... personal touch?"
Fu Hua never changed her expression. "I am reporting on the status of the rescue mission. Principal Theresa has authorized a strike team consisting of myself, the Principal, Major Himeko, Kiana Kaslana, Raiden Mei, and Wendy. We are in preparation for a ME Corporation black site to retrieve the asset, Kenji Aoyama."
"I am aware," Otto said, waving a hand dismissively. "I have been watching their movements closely. Theresa has been… quite spirited, as of late."
He walked around the desk, approaching the hologram until he was standing face-to-face with the projection of the Immortal.
"But I am not interested in the logistics of the raid. I have satellites for that. I am interested in your assessment of Aoyama Kenji."
Fu Hua remained silent, waiting.
"You have been close to him. You have sparred with him. You have observed him with the eyes of a warrior who has lived for fifty thousand years."
He leaned in, his green eyes narrowing.
"The Void Archives somehow cannot identify his energy signature. My scientists call it an anomaly. But what do you call it, Fu Hua?"
Fu Hua hesitated.
It was a micro-expression, a flicker of uncertainty that lasted less than a second, but to Otto, it was as loud as a scream. The Shadow Knight did not hesitate. The Guardian of Shenzhou did not doubt.
Unless she herself was… confused.
"It is... difficult to articulate," Fu Hua admitted finally, her gaze drifting slightly to the side. "His power—this 'OFA'—does not behave like Honkai energy. It lacks the corruption. It lacks the malice."
"And yet?" Otto pressed.
"And yet... when I am near him, when he exerts himself..." Fu Hua paused, searching for the words. "I feel a resonance."
"A resonance?" Otto repeated. The word tasted sweet on his tongue. "With what? A Divine Key? A Stigmata?"
"No," Fu Hua corrected. "With an… old memory."
She looked back at Otto, her expression turning more complicated as she started to reminisce.
"It feels familiar. Not in the way a weapon feels familiar. It feels... nostalgic. Warm. Like a light I have not seen in a very long time."
Otto's smile froze. His mind began to race as the pieces started falling into place.
"Nostalgic," he murmured. "That implies a point of reference. Are you saying this energy is from before this current time? As far back as…?"
"Yes," Fu Hua whispered. "Before this Era."
The realization hit Otto with physical force. He turned away from the hologram, pacing toward the window.
Before this Era.
The Void Archives contained the sum of human knowledge from the Previous Era. It held the blueprints of old weapons, the genetic codes of MANTIS soldiers, and the history of the war against the Honkai. If an energy signature existed, the Archives should know it.
But the Archives were silent on Aoyama Kenji.
And yet, Fu Hua—a living relic of that time—recognized him, not by data, but by feeling.
'Warmth. Nostalgia.'
Only one group of individuals fits that description. Only one group existed outside the standard parameters of the Void Archives.
"The Thirteen," Otto whispered to the glass.
He turned back to Fu Hua, his eyes now glowing with a predatory delight.
"You believe he is connected to them?"
Fu Hua's hologram flickered. "I cannot be certain. My memories... You know they are fragmented. But the feeling I have is hard to deny. When he fights, it does not feel like a stranger. It feels like… an old friend."
"An old friend," Otto echoed.
It was perfect. It was better than perfect. Theresa thought she was hiding a mutated boy. Cocolia thought she had captured a unique test subject.
But they were wrong. They were all thinking too small.
Kenji Aoyama wasn't a mutation. He was a legacy. A ghost from a time when humanity stood closest to the Honkai.
"Excellent," Otto said, his voice trembling with suppressed excitement. "It appears I must investigate this further."
"Overseer?" Fu Hua asked, her tone wary. "What are your orders? Should I intervene in the rescue?"
"No," Otto commanded sharply. "Do not interfere. Let Theresa play her little game. Let Cocolia test him. We need to see if the vessel is durable. Just do as she tells you to."
He walked back to the desk, picking up his wine glass.
"If he is what I think he is... then he is the most valuable asset on this planet. He is not just a battery, Fu Hua. He is a doorway."
He raised the glass to the hologram.
"Continue your observation. And Fu Hua? If he proves useful, bring me everything. I want to know the color of his soul."
"Understood," Fu Hua replied.
Click.
The hologram faded into motes of blue light, leaving Otto alone once more.
He turned his back on the empty room, strolling toward the massive, floor-to-ceiling window that dominated the far wall.
Otto stared at his reflection in the glass. The man looking back was ageless, composed, and perfect—a mask he had worn for five centuries.
But beneath the mask, the gears were turning.
'A legacy of the Previous Era.'
It was a tantalizing thought. The Void Archives had given him knowledge, but it had never given him a connection.
If Kenji Aoyama was truly a link to the Thirteen Flame-Chasers, he was priceless.
But that didn't explain Theresa.
Theresa didn't care about the Previous Era. She didn't care about the Tree, or the legacy of humanity, or the grand game of chess Otto played against the Honkai.
She cared about people.
Specifically, she cared about her people.
"Why hide him, Theresa?" Otto whispered to his reflection. "Why go to war to keep him?"
He raised his hand, swiping a finger across the glass surface of the window. The embedded sensors responded, projecting a new set of data streams directly onto the view of the clouds.
"Access Biometric Logs," Otto commanded softly. "Subject K-423. And Subject Raiden Mei."
Two graphs materialized. They were messy, volatile things—red lines spiking and crashing like the heartbeat of a dying star.
Subject K-423. The vessel of the Second Herrscher. A bomb that Otto had built, constantly ticking down to zero.
For years, her stability charts had been a jagged nightmare of mental resistance and void energy leaks.
And Raiden Mei. The Third Herrscher. A girl slowly being consumed by the Gem of Conquest turned Core of Thunder.
Otto traced the lines with his eyes, scrolling forward in time—month by month. The chaos was consistent.
Until a few months ago.
Otto's eyes widened.
On the graph, right around the timestamp of Kenji Aoyama's enrollment at St. Freya, the jagged red lines... smoothed out.
The chaotic spikes of the Void energy didn't disappear, but they were dampened.
"Stabilized?" Otto murmured, his brow furrowing. "Impossible. Sirin does not stabilize. The Gem of Conquest does not submit."
He swiped his hand again. "Overlay Subject Aoyama Kenji. OFA Energy output."
A third line appeared—a deep pulse of red. Otto expanded the timeline of the energies, and there it was. Otto identified the pattern almost instantly.
Every time K-423's corruption spiked, Kenji's energy spiked. Every time the Gem of Conquest flared, Kenji's readings surged to absorb it.
He was like a heat sink—a living sedative for the enormous Honkai Energy that plagued the girls.
Otto's wine glass slipped from his fingers, hitting the carpeted floor with a dull thud. The glass somehow not shattering.
But he didn't notice. He was too busy laughing.
"Oh, Theresa," Otto gasped, placing a hand against the cold glass. "My sweet, innocent, hypocritical granddaughter."
He understood now. He understood everything.
Theresa wasn't protecting Kenji Aoyama because he was a student. She wasn't fighting Cocolia to save a helpless boy.
She was hoarding him because he was the cure.
She had found the one thing in the world that could keep Kiana Kaslana sane. The one battery that could keep the Void Queen asleep.
"I thought you had grown soft," Otto whispered, staring at the flatlined corruption graphs. "I thought you were playing the hero. But you aren't a hero, are you?"
He looked at his reflection again. This time, he didn't see himself. He saw Theresa.
"You are using him," Otto said, his voice filled with a twisted, fatherly pride. "To save the one you love... You are willing to sacrifice another. You are treating this boy not as a person, but as a tool. A filter to keep your precious Kiana clean."
It was magnificent.
For so long, Theresa had judged him. She had looked at him with disgust for the experiments he ran, for the lives he sacrificed for his mission.
She had built St. Freya as a monument to her moral superiority.
And yet, the moment she found someone who could save Kiana, she had done precisely what Otto would have done.
She had locked him in a cage of kindness, isolated him from the world, and fed him to the wolves to keep her treasure safe.
"You despise me," Otto murmured, tracing the line of Kiana's stable heartbeat. "And yet, you are becoming me."
Otto turned away from the window, the data streams fading into the night.
He walked back to his desk, stepping over the spilled wine. It looked like blood on the floor, but Otto didn't care. He felt lighter than he had in years.
He sat down, lacing his fingers together.
He could intervene. He could send Durandal to seize Kenji now, to dissect this link to the Previous Era and strip the boy for parts.
After all, he already had some ideas on how to make use of the boy's usefulness.
But why would he?
Theresa was doing such a marvelous job. She was forging a weapon, testing its durability, and compromising her own morals in the process.
It was the most beautiful development he could have hoped for.
"Keep him safe, Granddaughter," Otto whispered to the empty room. "Let Cocolia break him. Let the world hunt him. Use him until he is nothing but a husk, if that is what it takes to save your Kiana."
He smiled, a predator watching its cub make its first kill.
"It took you long enough."