Author's Note: This chapter ended up being longer than I anticipated. I'm not complaining, though. However, it still feels like the ending is somewhat lacking... well, maybe not that lacking, but I think it's better to just post the chapter now. Otherwise, I'll probably agonize over it for weeks before posting it. And I'll most likely post it without making any changes. Ha~ Also, is it wrong if I feel dirty writing all those expletives? Hmm... I wonder...
Disclaimer: Honkai Impact 3rd belongs to miHoYo; Honkai: Star Rail belongs to miHoYo; Worm belongs to Wildbow.
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Proofreading and Editing by QAI521.
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The wind blew at a relentless pace, strands of purple hair whipping around her face. Sounds of distant sirens echoed through the deserted streets, yet despite the cacophony, the afternoon retained a misleading calm.
Indeed, it was a deceptively serene day — the sun was shining, the sky was clear, and the breeze seemed to whisper peace. Had someone else seen this place, they might have mistaken it for a quiet, somewhat sleepy town... that is, if they had taken no more than a cursory glance.
The truth, however, was that it was anything but; the city was a wounded animal, limping through the aftermath of its tormentors. Look close enough, and you could see the shattered windows, the scorched marks, and the hastily abandoned vehicles. It was a city gripped by fear — a ghost of its former self — though how far those scars went was anyone's guess.
Nonetheless, even in their broken state, the inhabitants were not without hope. Some of the residents were determined to rebuild, not content to remain a remnant of their past. An attempt to deny the Villains the satisfaction of winning, perhaps?
Makeshift shelters, organized patrols, and basic supplies for those affected by the tragedy; efforts were made to stitch together the frayed edges of their lives. Commendable, really, but ultimately, an endeavor that was far from enough... in a month or two, perhaps.
She could see the signs of struggle, purple orbs picking up and dissecting the tiniest details...
How the city, or the planet as a whole, managed to survive up until now she could never understand... or perhaps she would. Still, she had seen countless such moments — instances where hope and chaos collided in a maelstrom that was human resilience. A tragic yet fascinating situation, as some would say.
This, however, felt... different; more contrived, as if the pieces had been meticulously placed by an unseen hand. It was as though she could see the outline of some unseen stage for the players, the world twisting and dancing to their unheard tune of wroth madness.
Shaking off the thought, she turned her focus on the task at hand. Her vantage point offered a panoramic view of the city, the perfect spot to observe any suspicious activity. Anyone trying to move under the radar would be seen, and those who stood out would be easily identified. Granted, it wasn't foolproof — much of the structures provided ample cover for anyone who might wish to remain hidden.
Then again, considering their past records, subtlety seems to be a rare trait among the...what was their name again? Something to do with numbers?
...no, that would be stupid.
Where most would lay low and avoid detection, this motley band thrived on spectacle instead, reveling in the attention their atrocities and madness garnered. One might assume that such tactics stemmed from a lack of fear, but a closer examination would reveal that it was more likely a calculated effort to cultivate their legend of terror. The unwillingness to commit against superior forces, the ease at which they fled when faced with an unassailable force.
It spoke of a great deal of fear.
It was odd, though... for all their notoriety, her fight with the Villains had led her to a single conclusion...
... they were not that strong.
It was an observation that became increasingly apparent the longer she analyzed their encounter. Were they brutal? Certainly. Would they cross any line if it meant achieving their goals? Perhaps. Did they possess enough power as to deserve their infamous reputation, thus allowing them free reign to roam the country not just for months but for years — decades even?
No, most definitely not.
All answers pointed to a larger scheme at play. The pieces, the players, the faint hint of orchestrations; everything painted a different picture — one of manipulation — and that is without mentioning the memory Black Swan glimpsed from the bird.
She supposed it was something to consider later, once the entire business had been dealt with...
With an indifferent flicker in her eyes, she scanned the horizon once more, glowing orbs of purple sweeping across the broken cityscape. Cold, analytical thoughts ran through her mind, connecting dots of information as flashes the color of g—
'Hmm?'
A sudden shift drew her attention to the side. Her gaze zeroed in on a speck of movement far below — a big, unassuming vehicle coated in white.
It was fast — a bit too fast, in fact — not unlike a person trying to run away from something... or someone. A likely suspect, if she ever saw one. With the city on high alert and its residents wary, any deviation from the norm was a red flag; the vehicle's speed through the streets highlighted the driver's urgency, a stark contrast to the otherwise deserted surroundings.
'...'
She watched it dart around a corner before it vanished behind a building, a mere momentary blip in the grand scope of her surveillance. Still, while fleeting, its appearance was significant enough to warrant an investigation. Not to mention that so long as the thread remained...
'... maybe.'
And if she was wrong? Then so be it. After all, time was one of the few things that she had in ample supply... not that she would ever advocate the wasting of such resources.
With a new objective in mind, Acheron stepped off the ledge, her feet finding purchase on the wall before she leaped; silent and swift, the Emanator vaulted over the side of the building, her figure a dark specter against the bright sky.
Most would consider her direct involvement excessive, that such an individual could hardly be worth the effort. They would argue and debate — a waste of her abilities, a misuse of her talents, an overextension of her powers. They would be right. But for a person whose unrepentant actions reeked of both betrayal and cowardice?
That deserved an equally uncompromising response...
---
She knew...
For one inexplicable reason or another, the bitch had seen through his ruse. Granted, the word she used back then was 'illusion' instead of 'projection'. Still, that she was able to perceive the deception meant that she had a certain insight into the true nature of the Siberian — of his daughter. In this case? Him.
William. Fucking. Manton.
... he's so screwed.
And wasn't that just perfect? All those years being on the run, joining the Nine, terrorizing the country, and it all came crashing down like a house of cards. Every atrocity, every twisted desire... he had committed them without having to take responsibility. It was an exhilarating power trip, basking in the control and fear he commanded, untouched by the law.
Now? He was the prey — the victim — scrambling for an escape like a damn rat in a maze.
Was it revenge for Hero? No... that couldn't be it. If that were the case, then they would've hunted him down ages ago. That they remained silent and allowed him to rampage as much as he did meant they had their own reasons for letting it slide.
But if not that, then what?
His fingers gripped the wheel so tight his knuckles turned white, veins bulging under the skin. Greasy and wild, his hair kept falling into his vision, forcing him to jerk his head to the side repeatedly; bloodshot eyes darted between the rearview mirror and the road ahead, frantically searching for any sign of pursuit.
In fact, there was literally no reason as to why they would be coming after him now. Wait; no, their sudden interest could only mean one thing. They simply wanted to tie up loose ends. To erase every trace of their past affiliations and wipe him off the map. But they can't do that! They needed him! Him and his power! Unless...
... did the Nine become a liability? Did he?
It's not like they gave a damn about all the death and destruction he caused. Hell, they probably enjoyed the chaos as much as he did; after all, for what other reason did they not intervene?
And then, there was the way they approached the issue. It struck him as odd, going so far for capture instead of outright killing them. Granted, Bonesaw's failsafe made that decision difficult to justify, but how many of them really knew the truth about that? Or did they manage to uncover the full extent of her abilities somehow? No, from what he knew of their inner workings, there was little to no chance they would bother to obtain that level of insight... or did they?
Though the odds were slim, he would admit, the possibility couldn't be entirely dismissed. Still, perhaps they had other motives. Could it be... no... are they now trying to turn him into a lab rat? To be involved in some sort of experiment? For the sake of humanity!?
But why!?
Why did they send another in their place!? Why didn't they just go for Doormaker and have Contessa put a bullet in his head!? Why!? Was it a test for a new subject of theirs — a trial run for a new brand of freaks!? It just doesn't make sense! It's not like he ever revealed Cauldron's secret or anything; besides, the Nine had long since known about Cauldron, and even then, they didn't do jackshit to stop them!
*Bang*
"Fuck!"
The sound of a fist slamming against the dashboard reverberated through the cabin, its cracked surface a testament to his mounting frustration. He put more pressure on the pedal, propelling the vehicle forward as the engine roared to life. Tires squealed against the asphalt, the van swerving before it surged down the narrow road.
Not hard, really, considering that Shatterbird's singing had ensured that the streets were deserted save for the vehicles abandoned during their assault. The woman's proclivity for tormenting her victims also guaranteed there weren't any shards of glass left scattered on the roadway to ruin his vehicle's tires. It could've even been a pleasant driving experience if not for the looming threat of imminent capture.
He swiped his hair from his face, teeth gritting as he pushed the van faster. His thoughts raced, contemplating every possible escape route, every potential sa—
*Woooooommm*
It happened in an instant, a giant purple glyph suddenly materializing on the asphalt ahead. Like an omen of doom, it appeared large and ominous, arcane symbols interlocking with one another — similar yet oh-so-different from the technique he had often seen Myrddin employ. He slammed the brake, wheels locking and skidding across the ground before suddenly...
*Whooosshh*
... his van was launched into the air. Not just by a mere four or five feet but rather a staggering ten or more.
"Motherfucker!"
William could see the ground getting farther as he sailed past a row of houses, spinning and tumbling in mid-air. His vision caught the sight of a girl standing by a shattered window, her eyes wide as saucers as she witnessed the rare spectacle — her expression frozen in a mix of shock and disbelief.
*Boom*
"Ughh!"
The force of impact was brutal, the van's frame buckling under the strain. Plexiglass cracked and shattered, wind howling through the cabin as the door was wrenched off its hinges. His head collided against the dashboard, blood staining his face crimson, a coppery tang filling his mouth. With a sickening lurch, he was ejected from the vehicle, tumbling and rolling across the ground until he landed in what appeared to be a garbage heap, smells of rot and decay permeating the atmosphere.
Seconds passed in silence before a sharp intake of breath signaled his return to consciousness, bleary eyes struggling to focus. It felt like every bone in his body had been shattered, his whole body screaming in agony as he tried to feel at his belt. He propped himself up, scanning the empty lot; no help, no refuge.
Fucking figures...
His attempt to get up resulted in an unimaginable pain shooting through his side, searing sensations causing him to move and clutched at his ankle. It took him a moment longer to realize that his leg lay twisted beneath him, the limb slightly bent at an unnatural angle. Broken. Useless.
'God, damn it!'
Was it that bitch, again!? How many powers did the woman have!?
He turned his gaze to the left, noticing a round, heavy cover slightly askew on the ground. Rusted and slightly ajar, it promised a way out — a possible escape route — if he could manage it. He then looked the other way, seeing a figure standing at the end of the alley. It was a tall woman, dressed in dark and purple with an aura of menace that made his blood run cold. William could have sworn that she was smirking at him.
Judging him.
Mocking him.
As if she had any right!
Sure, she managed to deal with his little girl; whether by sheer luck or an unknown power, the woman succeeded in breaking through his daughter's perfect defense. But he still had his own tricks. Should he risk it? Try to set up another engagement?
No, that would be reckless... too reckless. Confronting her directly would be playing right into her hand.
He gritted his teeth, blood dripping from his split lip as he channeled his anger and indignation. No, he was not going to be taken down by some bitch. Not now. Not ever. His muscles screamed in protest, coarse, ragged breaths tearing at his throat as he shifted his body around...
... then he began to crawl.
---
*Clack... Clack... Clack... Clack...*
The sound of her heels against the pavement echoed through the alley, its rhythm steady and unhurried. She could sense the eyes of the residents watching her from behind their empty windows, peeking through closed curtains, their curiosity tinged with fear.
And was it any surprise? The things they had experienced in the past few days...
... no, she would not fault them for their caution, especially after what they had witnessed. To blame the terrorized for their vigilance would be no different than a hunter would a cornered animal.
Heartless and shortsighted at worst; irresponsible at best.
Regardless, the scene was now one of ruins and debris. Parts of the fence were missing, and heaps of garbage lay scattered, their stench mixing with the scent of spilled fuel while dirt clung to her boots. It slid unnoticed as she snapped her fingers, her steps deliberate until she came to a stop.
"Shame... and here I thought isolating him would've been enough." Black Swan's voice, gentle yet alluring, drifted from her back, its tone laced with a hint of amusement.
"... he is... resourceful." Her gaze turned to the wrecked van lying upside down near the corner.
"Oh? Is that recognition I hear in your voice?"
"No," her reply was instantaneous, as cold as the wind that swept through the alley. "On the contrary, it frustrates as much as it disappoints. That he would flee and abandon his... comrades is most unsightly. A disgraceful conduct, but one that is expected all the same. Though I do admire his effort in prolonging the inevitable."
"My... now that is just mean." Her laughter was soft, almost musical as she stepped into the lot. "Still... the sewer." She gestured towards the hole in the ground, movement punctuated by a tilt of her head. "You won't have an issue finding your way down there, won't you?"
"Should it be necessary, then I can sense an individual up to a few hundred meters. Several tens of thousands if I applied myself... it will suffice."
"That doesn't really answer my question, though..."
"... I'll be counting on you in case I get lost." Her response garnered with it a hint of amusement, though the Memorkeeper's face showed nothing more than a twitch. "Nonetheless, the other one is all yours."
With that, she resumed her pursuit, a faint glow — pink and shaped like a glittering diamond — radiating from her lone, visible eye as she took a step forward and allowed herself to fall...
---
Meanwhile, Black Swan watched the spot where the Emanator had disappeared, a thoughtful expression crossing her features. With a sigh, she adjusted the hem of her veil, the slight rustle adding to the quiet that hung in the air.
"Such a shame, no? Things would've been a touch more lively if she stayed just a bit longer, don't you agree?" The words flowed from her lips as she glanced to the side, a breeze carrying the distant scent of smoke and burnt rubber.
.
.
.
... right... imperceptible.
With nary a mental thought, she undid the spell cloaking her presence, a card bearing the sigil of a tower materializing between her fingers as she turned and smiled at the figure whose frame was half-hidden behind a dumpster.
Someone drawn to the commotion? Or was it simply a coincidence?
Ah, fate... such a fickle thing...
"Now, are you going to keep skulking? Or will you come out and play?"
The silence was deafening. It smelled of stale food, the metallic tang of blood, and the faint hint of excitement. A man, bald and scarred, emerged from his cover with deliberate steps, muscles tensed and tight as he pointed straight in her direction.
"A Cape! You must be a Cape!" His voice grated like gravel, a snarl giving way to a full-blown smile, teeth yellowed and jagged as he hefted an axe. "Now. You. Die!" With a thunderous stomp, he charged forward, a blood-curdling roar escaping from his throat like the cry of a raging beast. "Rrrraaaaaarrgghh!"
'Oh, dear...'
---
*Splash*
The sound was a quiet, little thing — a ripple in the stagnant water, no different than the faint whispers of a lurking predator. Of course, as any sane man would a sudden chill down the spine, William tensed, the damp chill of the sewer muck soaking into his shoes as he stumbled forward.
His breath created with it a foggy mist in the dim light, the oppressive silence broken only by the occasional drip of water echoing in the tunnel. He rested his shoulder against the slick, grimy wall, every movement sending a jolt of pain down his broken leg.
Still, he gritted his teeth, forcing himself to take another step.
'Stay calm, stay calm...'
It was a mantra he kept repeating to himself — a protection against the rising tide of panic. But calm was a distant memory, unreachable as the safety he desperately sought. He could hear the faint sounds of pursuit behind him, the measured footsteps of an inevitable fate. Some insignificant part of him couldn't help but admire the irony. After so many years of being the unstoppable and inevitable monster to his victims, now he was on the receiving end of such treatment.
Sweat mingled with grime on his forehead, dripping into his eyes and blurring his vision. He wiped it away with a trembling hand, salty tang mixing with the taste of blood in his mouth.
In the dim light, William caught the sight of another rusted ladder leading up to a manhole cover; a glimmer of hope sparked in his chest, urging him to walk forward. Just a few more feet and he'd be free... out of the nightmare and back into the open air.
A smile broke on his lips, and he scrambled up the rungs, ignoring the burning of his leg—
*Snap*
—only for the corroded metal to give way, sending him crashing back down into the filth.
*Splash*
"Urgh!"
He hit the ground hard, pain flaring from his back as he rolled into the water, choking on a gasp. His ankle twisted even further, yet despite the agony, he bit back the scream, hand clenched as he gave his best attempt at muffling his cries.
The sewage water seeped into the corner of his mouth, its foul taste almost causing him to retch. Seconds passed as he remained still; no movement, only his ragged breathing. Where once there was the faint echo of steps, now there was only a void. He strained to listen, yet no matter how much he tried to focus, only silence greeted him...
... her footsteps just... stopped. Gone, just like a damn phantom in the night.
*Ba-dump, Ba-dump, Ba-dump*
Nothing... no scraping sound, no rustling of clothes, no signs of pursuit, nothing.
"Damn it!" Hissing under his breath, William struggled to rise, his footing shaky as he leaned against the wall. "Bad enough that I have to deal with this mess, but for it to be the sewer of all things!"
This wasn't how it was supposed to be!
His dau–
"Then you shouldn't have tried to run."
"Wha—!?"
*BLAM*
The blow came out of nowhere. Vicious and swift, it impacted the side of his head, throwing him away and sending him reeling back into the muck. His vision spun, the alien sensation of a strike hurting him after so many years nearly enough to stagger him on its own.
In blind panic, he scrambled for the object tucked on his belt, fingers curling around a grip even as he tried to listen for the echo of her heels. It rang clear in the tunnel, a sharp staccato now that her steps were no longer concealed. Still, his head throbbed, his vision blurring, making it all the more difficult to aim.
How long had it been since he'd had to use this thing?
Had he ever used the pistol?
His finger squeezed...
*Click... Click, Click, Click*
"Huh?" Turning the gun in his hand, he stared at it in disbelief. His fist slammed against the slide, once... twice... hoping beyond all hope before snapping his sight back on the silhouette. Again and again, he aimed and pulled the trigger, but despite his attempts, it just. wouldn't. fire! "Stupid piece of junk! Why won't you work!?"
"... I believe you forgot to turn off the safety." Her voice cut through the air, and he glanced down only to realize that the bitch spoke the truth; he had forgotten to take the safety off. A stupid, stupid mistake on his part — cheeks burning red as the bitch just kept staring at him...
... as though he was nothing more than an interesting sideshow!
Trembling fingers fumbled with the safety once, twice, and nearly thrice before he finally disengaged the mechanism. His heart pounded against his chest as he trained his gun on the approaching figure.
*Bang*
With a loud crack, the bullet left the chamber, hot, deadly lead speeding toward its target. It flew true, the air parting as the projectile went dead center at the woman—
*Clang*
—and then straight back at him.
"AaArrgGHhh!" The scream tore itself out of his throat as his toe was blown apart, cartilage splintering an explosion of blood and gore.
So great was the pain that his vision darkened at the edges, its intensity rendering him unable to move. Snot and tears mingled on his face as he dragged himself back, uncoordinated limbs scrambling in the muck. It was a humiliating experience, trembling on the floor like the mewling peons he let his dear daughter play with.
"Nngghh...mo-motherfucking piece of shit! S-stay away from me!" Of course, whether she cared or not, the woman began to advance with the same measured steps.
No, no, no; this... this can't be the end, right? He had to, needed to do something. But what? What method could he utilize that would allow him to es— No, wait. Power. Yes. Right. Power.
His daughter.
While she hadn't been entirely effective, considering their previous encounter, she should provide him enough of an advantage, enough that he'd have ample opportunity to escape. Even if his daughter failed again then it'd at least serve as sufficient distraction to keep the bitch occupied.
Brilliant!
With a wild, desperate grin, he summoned every ounce of willpower he had left. Unfortunately, his body betrayed him; physical and mental exhaustion caused her to materialize much, much slower than he had hoped. Still, he persisted.
The first to emerge was a hand. Like a ghostly apparition, she materialized in front of him. Molecules the color of black and white coalesced, swirling and shimmering in the dim light. It took seconds — painfully long seconds — for her shape to form, features solidifying one by one. Close to five seconds were spent before he succeeded in sculpting the arms, feet, legs, torso, neck, and head.
It might as well have been an eternity...
When was the last time it'd taken this long?
He laughed, and for a brief moment, a relieved smile broke upon his lips. Willing his daughter to act, he mustered his fading strength, telling — commanding — his child to protect him; she charged, claws extended, intent on tearing his pursuer apart—
—a fleeting glimpse of red, and she was reduced into a cloud of ash.
His eyes widened, mouth agape in disbelief. How!? It shouldn't be that quick! She was supposed to be invincible! Perfect defense! Perfect offense! There should be more time, at least enough for him to make a proper escape!
No, he refused to accept it!
He refused to accept this ignorable ending!
A roar of anger escaped his lips, tears streaming down his face as he conjured another image of his daughter, the figure rushing ahead only to be met with a similar fate.
"I will give you one last chance," calm and composed; the bitch's voice pierced through his haze, the words a dagger that chilled him to the bone. "Surrender; there shall be no glory nor reprieve in your continued resistance."
"Fuck you!" Defiant to the end, he snarled and spit at her. Predictably, it didn't even reach her. With a strangled cry, he lifted his weapon, clutching and pulling at the trigger.
*Bang, Bang, Bang, Bang*
He fired blindly, the shots echoing in the tunnel again, again, again, and again. It was a futile effort, for the projectiles simply swerved and curved without ever reaching their target, until...
*Click, Click, Click, Click*
... the pistol was empty.
He stared at it in a daze before throwing it aside in a fit of rage. The bullets... they just floated there, suspended in mid-air while arcs of electricity crackled every now and then.
A bubbling laugh of desperation made its way out of his lips, the futility of his actions glaringly evident. They didn't zap at him, no... the lightning... they just danced around the projectiles as if mocking his every attempt. Even the water refused to act like it should, repelling the current instead of conducting it. As he slumped against the slippery wall, rage and panic slowly draining from his exhausted figure, a single realization wormed its way into his thoughts.
'... she's toying with me.'
The realization pushed him further into the pit of despair.
"You are defeated," she declared, her tone unwavering as the bullets fell, clinking softly against the floor. The sound they made as they clattered against the uneven surface was the only noise that could be heard over the quiet that had settled. "Lay down your arms, and I shall see to it that your injuries are taken care of." Her offer was accompanied with a tilt of her head — a gesture that seemed almost kind. "Well, at the very least, you will not have to fear death."
And that was what shattered his last vestige of control...
He laughed... laughed and sobbed until his throat was raw. So absurd was the situation that it bordered on madness, yet his pursuer merely stood in silence, watching him with those unblinking eyes.
Broken, defeated, and utterly spent, he raised his head for one last utterance — that of a single word — defiance given form.
"No..."
He wouldn't be dragged in like some rowdy pet.
"... I see... you refuse to cooperate, then?" It was a question spoken more as a statement, devoid of any real surprise. "Unfortunate, but it seems that we have reached an impasse. That is a shame... I had hoped for a different outcome."
In a blink of an eye, the woman disappeared from her position — faint traces of lightning saturating the space where she had been standing moments prior. A rush of air marked her sudden movement, her figure a blur as she closed the distance and manifested right in front of him — so quickly his gaze hadn't even been able to follow
*BLAM*
The blow was heavy, with enough power to send his head on a collision course against the wall...
*CRACK*
It reverberated through the sewer, an impact that served as both a loud and final punctuation to his descent into the void of oblivion. The last thing he saw was a pair of glowing violet eyes, cold and unyielding; they bore into him, a reminder of his helplessness before darkness fell.
Then...
... nothing.