Hi there!
Here's another fanfiction attempt. After watching the anime's ending and seeing the suit, it reminded me of another character with a similar kind of armor. One thing led to another… and well, here we are.
This is the first chapter. It might be a bit long, but I hope it doesn't feel too heavy or tiring to read.
The characters from DC and My Hero Academia do not belong to me. All rights belong to their respective original creators and copyright holders.
Any comments, thoughts, or advice are more than welcome.
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Emergency lights bathed the room in red, reflecting off the tense faces of every operator.
Humanoid—save for their pale skin and elongated skulls that resembled extended bony plates.
—Quick, seal it now! —one of them ordered, sliding his three fingers across the touch panel.
The main bulkhead shut with a metallic crash.
The alarms ceased.
Ash'lyen, now the highest-ranking figure on the station, fixed his gaze on the central monitor and activated the record.
—Ash'lyen, Sub-Secretary of Command of the Seventieth Antimatter Space Plant. Reporting emergency log. Cycle 472.89 of the Calendar of the Great Light.
The station reported the sudden appearance of an unidentified object carrying unprecedented energy levels, advancing on a direct trajectory toward the planet.
In accordance with standard protocol, it was intercepted prior to impact and transferred to the nearest research laboratory.
He rotated the small slot on the console and continued. For a brief moment, his fingers hesitated, recalling the tragedy that followed.
Images and blurred fragments of the object's earliest records began to project across the screen.
The preliminary report indicated that the anomaly was inert and did not appear to be composed of any registered material.
Subsequent studies demonstrated that, while the energy concentration was extreme, its behavior was anomalous.
It emitted no harmful radiation, generated no heat, and did not interact with any detectable physical field.
In essence, it was classified as operationally harmless.
In response, one of the lead scientists proposed a direct disassembly in order to understand its function.
The records transitioned to a video fragment.
A white room. Excessively illuminated, where a female figure advanced slowly toward an emerald object, suspended above a small transparent containment capsule.
Although she wore a containment suit, her movements—extremely tense—betrayed an evident nervousness as she extended her hand.
—However, —the Sub-Secretary's voice continued— at the moment the first technician established physical contact with the entity… it activated.
An abrupt pulse of energy distorted the image.
The final frame captured the object lifting on its own—as if it had been waiting for that moment to awaken—before launching itself violently into the scientist's face, leaving her too stunned to react.
—Vai'k… —his voice faltered for a brief instant—. The head of the scientific division, Vai'kho, was transferred to intensive care and placed under mandatory isolation after no trace of the object could be found anywhere within the facility.
The screen changed.
It now displayed images of the scientist inside a sparsely furnished cell.
The following Nanocycles proceeded without incident, and the records indicated that the detainee perceived no internal changes, beyond a mild discomfort attributed to the containment procedure.
The issue emerged upon the completion of the first Mesocycle.
A new recording showed Vai'kho speaking to herself while attempting to evade the surveillance device.
Shortly thereafter, similar incidents became increasingly frequent.
Hundreds of fragments accumulated, depicting how Vai'kho appeared to spend an excessive amount of time arguing with someone who was clearly not there.
When questioned, Vai'kho chose to remain silent.
That silence was sufficient to extend her isolation indefinitely.
From that point onward, it marked the beginning of a decline that no one managed to stop.
The next recording displayed a Vai'kho who was almost unrecognizable.
The physical and mental deterioration was evident. What had once been the image of a healthy young woman had been reduced to a fragile body—marked by deep dark circles, extreme thinness, pronounced exhaustion, and erratic movements as she curled into the corner of her collapsing cell.
Several individuals present in the room released muffled gasps, already aware of what was to come.
Ash'lyen did not avert his gaze and continued speaking in a steady voice, ignoring the nervous murmurs behind him.
—The reports indicated that her behavior had become extremely violent.
With the passing of another Mesocycle, her body ceased to accept food, as though it had stopped obeying her entirely.
When her condition became critical, an external intervention was authorized.
The medical team managed to stabilize her… but not to fully restore her.
Faced with the possibility of further deterioration, a reintegration to the planet was considered.
However, what followed was even more disconcerting.
Vai'kho fell into a deep lethargy.
Her aggressiveness appeared to vanish from one moment to the next, replaced by a calm that felt far too artificial.
She did not sleep.
She did not wake.
She simply remained motionless, breathing in a mechanical manner, indifferent to any stimulus.
The transfer request was canceled immediately afterward.
The screen flickered.
—And these recordings… belong to the previous Nanocycle.
The screen displayed a new recording.
Vai'kho stood before the door, completely disoriented, murmuring incoherently with a vacant stare.
The analysts attempted to decode her whispers, but only a single fragment could be recovered:
—I saved the r—
CLANG!
The sound of something truly heavy resonated with enough force to make it clear it had come from the other side of the door.
For a second—one that felt like an eternity—no one dared to make a single sound.
BA-WHOOM!
Suddenly, the metal buckled inward with a deep groan, as if something had slammed into it from beyond.
That was the beginning of a wave of panic that only continued to grow, as the surface of the bulkhead began to bulge—until the metal plate twisted into a massive, grotesque protrusion.
The few combatants still remaining among the group instinctively retreated toward the area where the station's limited weapons were stored.
—No!… this can't be! —shouted one of the few capable of properly operating an energy cannon, unable to comprehend how that… THING had managed to bypass every defensive measure to reach that point.
GROOOM!!
The dent grew larger. Deeper.
Ash'lyen called out to those who still stood frozen in place, ordering them to activate the last bastion of automated defenses remaining within the station… while he himself prepared to continue relaying what they had uncovered.
Fearing for the mental state of the scientist Vai'kho, a second intervention by the medical team was authorized at the start of this same Nanocycle.
They were found eliminated inside the cell only moments later.
The incident was classified as a critical emergency, and the fugitive was reclassified as an individual requiring immediate neutralization.
Using all recording devices available aboard the station, it was determined that her last verifiable location corresponded to the isolation cell.
Records indicate that the anomaly occurred moments before the medical team's entry, at which point the fugitive ceased to appear on any monitoring channel.
None of the scanners across the remaining sectors managed to detect her, prompting the establishment of continuous communication with every operational module in an attempt to obtain even a minimally coherent report regarding her whereabouts.
Through this process, a continuous loss of communications across the entire facility was detected.
Beginning with the progressive disappearance of reports originating from Energy Regulation Nodes 3, 4, and 7.
All disconnected at intervals far too precise to be considered isolated failures.
When the situation escalated enough to make it evident that this was a systematic attack, all available units were deployed with the intent of neutralizing the responsible cause.
None returned.
The situation became desperate enough to force the direct intervention of the Captain and his Second-in-command, the most formidable combatants aboard the vessel.
This was their final record:
—
"We've reached the last point from which troop signals were received.
The corridor remains without lighting… traces of thermal impacts everywhere.
Advancing."
—
The recording continues with the sound of footsteps echoing across scorched metal.
—
"We're in the secondary chamber…
There are bodies. Multiple.
They're… oh, Great Light, help us.
Dismembered. Reduced to fragments. And pierced… as if something had stitched the armor together with them."
—
What appears to be the Second-in-command's voice can be heard, suggesting an immediate withdrawal.
—
"Wait…
One of them is still alive."
—
In the image, a soldier lies slumped in a corner, still conscious.
His armor is split open in several places, trembling with what appear to be small electrical spasms.
As the Captain approaches rapidly, the survivor manages only the beginning of a prayer—a warning—before raising a trembling finger and pointing upward.
The camera tilted upward.
A dull impact registered against the ceiling panel.
An emerald flash crossed the frame.
Something quadrupedal clung to the beams.
Watching.
Hunting.
The recording ended abruptly at the exact moment that figure launched itself toward them.
PUM!!
The bulkhead exploded into a shower of burning fragments before Ash'lyen had the chance to focus on the being that appeared in the final frame.
But by then, he realized, it was unnecessary.
The aberration had entered—and he would make sure the record captured every part of it.
—Final transmission of the Seventieth Antimatter Space Plant, —he declared in a steady voice, though the tremor in his military salute betrayed his true state—. If this message is ultimately received… then we have failed.
The figure crossed the threshold wrapped in something that could not be described as a body.
Spherical.
And absolutely dense.
A mass of dark emerald, covered in overlapping plates that vibrated against one another, as if something inside were pressing to escape.
Then—
It opened.
The plates split apart violently, folding backward as the mass stretched and elongated, thinning its silhouette until it assumed a quadrupedal form that brushed against the unnatural.
Excessively long limbs.
Joints rotating beyond what should have been possible.
All while a frontal visor deployed across the being's already unsettling face.
KLIK-KLIK-KLIK
The first soldier barely had time to raise his weapon when that thing moved.
—¡No—!
No explosions.
No energy beams.
Only a precise movement, straight to the heart.
—Pan'reth!?!!
The body fell before anyone there knew how to react… or beg.
—FALL BACK! —someone shouted.
Slssh
But it was useless.
Every movement was lethal.
Calculated.
Clean.
The entire station opened fire.
The crew's desperate attempts merged with what little remained of the ship's defenses, all for a single purpose: to eliminate the being born from their most horrific nightmares.
But, regrettably…
Gaahch…
The creature kept advancing, adding more and more bodies to its path.
There was no pause.
No resistance that mattered.
Ash'lyen forced himself to keep recording the horrific scene while attempting to describe the behavior of the creature moving before him.
—The entity demonstrates extreme adaptive capability. It does not respond to conventional defensive stimuli. It does not appear to possess communicative capacity, nor any intent to establish it. If visual contact is made, it must be treated as a target for elimination. I repeat: do not attempt negotiation.
—Mesh'du?! By the Great Light, please! NO—!
Finally, the last combatant fell a few meters away from him.
Everything was over.
The remains of his own comrades were scattered across every still-viable section of the area, leaving him at the creature's mercy.
Ash'lyen watched it advance—surprisingly slow for something that had annihilated the entire base with impossible speed.
Then they stood face to face.
And only then did he feel all the fear and resolve he had gathered as a molokita—when he accepted his own death—drain away, replaced by a suffocating pain.
A part of him—small and stubborn—still refused to accept what it truly was that stood before him.
Click.
Klick.
Klll.
It had changed so much.
It had done too much.
Its appearance was no longer even remotely similar to what it once had been.
But he was still able to see her.
That overly enthusiastic scientist, cheerful to a fault.
The one who could see patterns where others saw only chaos.
The one who chose to treat everyone and everything as a puzzle worthy of being assembled and admired.
Klack.
Klick.
Klac.
Now, reduced.
And stripped of the possibility of ever doing something so special with anyone again.
Not even with what remained of herself.
Vai'kho.
His Vai'k.
—Look what it did to you, —he said, turning his gaze only slightly toward the ruins surrounding them—. To all of us.
He raised a trembling hand and caressed the horrific mass of biometal her face had become.
As if that contact had triggered a reaction, the surface contracted and shifted, forming an irregular silhouette that clumsily mimicked the shape of those beautiful eyes he thought he would never see again.
And for an instant—
he found understanding in them.
Klick.
Klock…
Klock?
Strange sounds emerged from the two elongated extensions along her back, like a clumsy, incomplete attempt at a voice.
If she had still been who she once was, he was certain she would have been hopping from one place to another, trying to explain what it all meant.
Telling him how she believed everything inside there worked.
Ash'lyen smiled.
None of that mattered anymore.
Not after everything that had happened.
And everything he himself had set in motion.
Tears gathered at the edges of his eyes.
And with a small twist of his wrist, he marked a discreet insignia on the monitor.
Click.
Clikk.
—We'll meet again in the light of the stars, my beautiful spark…
Tock.
Clock.
Tick.
A second later, Vai'k's gestures unraveled, as if something else had taken control.
The extensions from her back lunged forward and pierced him in a single, brutal motion.
Within whatever Vai'kho had become, there still seemed to be enough awareness to understand what was about to happen.
But it was already too late.
The containers were offline.
Reality itself trembled.
Folding in on itself.
And then…
Nothing
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— CRITICAL ALERT —
— SYSTEMIC DAMAGE: EXTREME
— FUNCTIONAL INTEGRITY: 36.4%
— ACCESSING PRIMARY PROTOCOLS —
— SELF-PRESERVATION
A figure floated in the void, suspended among irregular fragments and fragile debris of what had once been one of the mega-space plants responsible for supplying energy to an entire species.
Vai'kho.
Or, more precisely, the parasitic result of the forced convergence between her… and the incomprehensible entity that had assumed absolute control over her body.
The same entity that, against all statistical projections, had managed to preserve them both when the antimatter collided.
Barely.
A marginal error in the total symbiosis percentage, followed by a partial desynchronization, allowed one of the organic threats to trigger a chain reaction that eradicated the installation entirely.
— STRUCTURAL DAMAGE: CRITICAL
— METALLIC BIOMASS: MINIMAL RESERVES. INSUFFICIENT FOR COMPLETE SELF-REPAIR.
— REACTOR ENERGY OVERLOAD: OUTSIDE OPTIMAL PARAMETERS
State classified as UNACCEPTABLE under normal operational standards.
But sustainable, when evaluating the events following the forced interruption of primary parameter compliance.
— ANALYSIS:
Progressive accumulation of external technological signatures detected.
Multiple vectors confirm approach.
DISTANCE: REACHABLE.
— RISK CLASSIFICATION: PRIMITIVE STELLAR ENVIRONMENT.
— THREAT CAPABILITY: INSIGNIFICANT.
OPERATIONAL PROJECTION:
The insertion, contact, and subsequent elimination of incoming units does not represent a significant threat to this unit.
PRIORITY REASSIGNED:
— Interception of any dissemination of information related to the unit.
— Forced insertion toward the previously designated celestial body of interest.
POST-INSERTION PLAN:
— Progressive reconstruction of unit integrity.
— Regenerative reconstruction of the host.
— Immediate resumption of the .
Processing…
— ALERT — ALERT — ALERT —
— IMMINENT GRAVITATIONAL TEAR —
ANALYSIS:
INITIATION OF SPACE-TIME ANOMALY.
Surrounding structural remnants abruptly altered their trajectories, drawn in by a growing and uncontrollable force.
Space curved.
And with it, light distorted.
PROJECTION:
— Gravitational singularity formation in progress.
— Event horizon: IMMINENT.
— Host survival projection: 13%.
— Percentage evaluation: UNACCEPTABLE.
The densest remnants still persisting in the surrounding environment began to be violently drawn toward a point of absolute density.
But the unit refused to be absorbed.
EVASION PROTOCOLS: ACTIVE.
Vai'kho's dorsal structure reconfigured in real time.
Metallic plates separated, rotated, and sealed again as the remaining metallic biomass was forced to assume an unanticipated function.
Two thrusters emerged from her back, powered directly by an already unstable reactor.
An intense discharge of energy erupted backward in a desperate escape maneuver against the effects of the singularity.
Gravity attempted to reclaim them again and again.
While thrust fought attraction until both forces reached an unstable deadlock.
ESCAPE TRAJECTORY: NONEXISTENT.
ERROR MARGIN: CRITICAL.
TEMPORAL STABILITY SUSTAINMENT CAPACITY: EXTREMELY LOW.
Calculating…
MISSION SUCCESS PROBABILITY:
IMPOSSIBLE UNDER CURRENT PARAMETERS.
Forced reevaluation.
ALTERNATIVE OPTION DETECTED:
— Emergency teleportation protocol.
HOST SURVIVAL STANDARD UNDER TELEPORTATION: 23%.
— Classification: UNACCEPTABLE.
Every object orbiting alongside the unit was ultimately absorbed entirely into the stellar phenomenon.
The only things that still persisted… were them.
But even that began to change.
Small fragments tore away from the suit as the surrounding gravitational cohesion exceeded the unit's structural limits.
— UNIT STABILITY: ACCELERATED DEGRADATION.
— COMPARATIVE ANALYSIS: NO KNOWN STRUCTURE HAS SURVIVED A SINGULARITY OF THIS CLASS.
— ALERT: TOTAL DESTRUCTION IMMINENT.
FORCING TELEPORTATION PROTOCOL.
From the entity's core, an increasingly intense light began to project outward, piercing through the fractures of its barely sustainable structure, embracing them and enveloping them completely.
And the unit executed the jump.
Or… at least a part of it did.
— ERROR — ERROR — ERROR —
— CRITICAL FAILURE IN TELEPORTATION PROTOCOL —
— Probable cause: cumulative prior damage to the anchoring core.
TOTAL DISCONNECTION OF THE HOST.
Initiating preservation protocols.
— UNIT FUNCTIONAL REDUCTION: ACTIVATED.
The entity condensed in upon itself.
Entire layers of symbiotic microtechnology collapsed in succession,
folding inward toward a minimal, primary form.
Adopting the exact same configuration with which it had attempted to reach the insertion target during the initial projection.
The remaining energy was compressed.
Everything else was discarded.
— MASS AND ENERGY REALLOCATION: COMPLETE —
Unable to sustain any further resistance,
the entity was finally reclaimed,
drawn into the deepest depths of the anomaly.
DANGER — Danger — D4NG3R — ⟁⟁⟁
EX3CUT1NG ST@T3 @N@L¥S1S…
There was no direction.
There was no reference point from which to interpret movement.
Gravity ceased to be a force of attraction
and became an absolute, omnipresent state.
ErrØr—⟁—E∆∆—Ø—⟁
Physical laws fragmented into overlapping sequences, incompatible with one another.
Each one negated the validity of the previous.
There was no causality.
Only chaos.
Only contradiction.
P@R@M3T3RS C¥RR3NT: UN-D3F1N3D
UN1V3RS@L CØNST@NTS: IN-CØMP@T1BL3 ⟊⟊⟊
R3F3R3NC3 M@TR1X: ⧖⧖⧖
CL@SS1F1C@T1ØN: ✧?✧
@N@L¥S1S S¥ST3M: ✖✖✖
3NV1RØNM3NT@L R3CØGN1T1ØN: N¥LL
1N1T1@T1NG R3C@L1BR@T1ØN…
Failed.
1N1T1@T1NG T3L3TR@NSPØRT@T1ØN…
Failed.
1N1T1@T1NG @UTØNØMØ¥S D1SPL@C3M3NT…
Failed.
Unable to determine what was occurring,
the entity remained trapped
within a space where time
did not exist as a measurable magnitude.
And then—
without perceptible transition—
EJECTION
It was violently expelled from the gravitational well, forced back toward a region where physical laws once again existed.
S3NSØR1@L R3@CT1V@T1ØN
████▒▒▒▒▒
██████▒▒▒
█████████
ST@T3: UNST@BL3
— ERRØR: V1SU@L CH@NN3L ∆
— ERRØR: M@SS CH@NN3L ⟁
— ERRØR: T3MPØR@L CH@NN3L ✖
Reduced to a barely functional state,
the entity spun out of control
as it reached relativistic velocities.
TR@J∑CTØR¥:
— ERROR
— ERROR
— ERROR
Adjustments.
Corrections.
Partial reversions.
The attempts repeated.
Until one stabilized.
Incomplete.
But sufficient to restore the ability to perceive reality.
Then it saw it.
An orbital hydrospheric body.
Blue.
Primitive.
Alive.
R3CØGN1T1ØN…
— D@T@B@S3 M@TCH: 0%
PRØTØCØLS @V@1L@BL3: ∅
S¥ST3M1C D@M@G3 @N@L¥S1S:
— NOT QUANTIFIABLE
— DAMAGE BEYOND KNOWN OPERATIONAL SCALES
Local gravity took control of the remaining displacement.
AL3RT@ — AL3RT@ — AL3R⟁@
Uncontrolled entry.
Friction.
Heat.
Noise.
Residual energy barely sustained internal integrity
during atmospheric passage.
Then—
IMPACT
The entity collided with a terrestrial elevation.
The geological structure fractured,
yielding under the energy transfer,
burying it deep beneath the surface.
CURR3NT ST@T3
— MØB1L1T¥: IMPØSS1BL3
— CØNSC1ØUSN3SS: D1SØR13NT3D
— D@T@B@S3: 1N@CC3SS1BL3
— CØNN3CT1ØN TØ PR1M@R¥ N3TWØRK: NUL@
— 3N3RG¥ R3S3RV3S: 1NSUFF1C13NT
ACTIVATING CONTINGENCY PROTOCOL.
Hidden beneath the surface of an irrelevant world,
unnoticed by anyone,
something had arrived from the void.
A global phenomenon had just been unleashed upon the dominant species that inhabited it:
structural collapses,
social fractures,
irreversible transitions,
indiscriminate conflicts.
Problems began to accumulate,
stripping the world of any opportunity
to pay attention to minor anomalies.
And so,
while the planet's history continued in ignorance, the entity remained motionless.
Damaged.
Dormant.
Waiting.
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