Hep
Blades That Guard the Silence
The Hyperversal Guard of the Great Emperor Caelum Aurealis
Prologue: The Dawn After Darkness
Before Caelum Aurealis, the multiverse was a fractured nightmare. Eldritch abominations ruled through terror, conceptual tyrants warped reality to serve their whims, and mortal beings were little more than pawns in an endless game of cosmic horror. The very fabric of existence was stained with corruption, torn by the wars of dark gods who played with universes as children play with toys.
In this broken reality, a single mortal boy was born—not to prophecy or destiny, but to suffering and will. From the ruins of a world consumed by entities beyond comprehension, Caelum rose with nothing but determination and a scavenged blade. He did not seek to be a hero; he simply refused to accept a universe where evil reigned supreme.
His ascension was not swift or merciful. Through decades of blood and battle, Caelum fought his way across realities, challenging beings that had ruled for eons. He slew planetary demons with precise strikes of his blade. He outsmarted dreamlords who could bend perception itself. He faced the Choir of Hunger and silenced their endless appetite.
And then, at the center of all corruption, Caelum found the root of evil itself—not a being, but a principle. With a single strike of his sword, he severed its connection to reality. In that moment, existence changed fundamentally; evil could no longer form naturally. The multiversal order was rewritten.
From the ashes of the old chaos, Caelum built the Hyperversal Concord—an empire spanning countless realities, united not through conquest but through the absence of corruption. Where once fear and entropy ruled, now order and peace flourished. People governed themselves, but all acknowledged one man as their ultimate sovereign.
Not through force or coercion. But because he had made their lives possible.
Now, centuries after his victory, Caelum Aurealis sat upon his throne in Thronis Eternium, a palatial super-realm at the heart of existence. His face, though still youthful in appearance, held the weight of eons. His eyes, gold-white with fractal starbursts, gazed beyond the walls of his palace to something only he could perceive.
For the first time since his triumph over chaos, Caelum felt unease.
"They stir again," he whispered to the empty throne room, his voice resonating with quiet authority. "Beyond the Veil... the remnants gather."
His hand moved to rest on Sol Excidium, the sword that had ended all sin. Though he had not drawn it in centuries, he could feel its eager response to his touch—a weapon forged not of metal, but of erased timelines and alit universes.
Caelum rose from his throne, a motion of perfect grace despite his imposing 6'7" frame. His armor, black as the void between stars yet trimmed with gold that seemed to glow with inner light, made no sound as he moved. His long black hair, streaked with silver-white like lightning captured in midnight, fell just past his shoulders.
"Prepare the summoning chamber," he commanded, and though no one was visibly present, the message carried. "The forbidden ritual. The one that calls beyond our borders."
A soft voice responded from the shadows. "My Emperor, the Hyperversal Summoning? But that would breach the barriers you yourself established."
"I am aware," Caelum replied, his tone leaving no room for further discussion. "The remnants grow stronger. They require... special attention."
As he walked from the throne room, reality itself seemed to bend around him—not out of fear, but reverence. The Emperor had made a decision.
And the multiverse would adapt accordingly.
Chapter 1: The First Summoning - Sovereign Artoria
The summoning chamber pulsed with energies that defied description. Concentric circles of runes that rewrote reality with each flickering glow lined the walls, floor, and ceiling. The architecture itself seemed to breathe, expanding and contracting in a rhythm that matched no heartbeat known to mortal kind.
At the center stood Caelum Aurealis, alone. His attendants had been dismissed; what he was about to do required no witnesses. He extended his arms, palms upward, and closed his eyes.
The air around him became heavy, charged with potential. When he spoke, his voice carried not just sound but intent—a fundamental force that could not be denied.
"From the realm of sacred blades, from the throne of the lion ascendant, I call forth she who bears the holy lance. Sovereign Artoria, I summon thee across the boundaries of all possibilities."
The very fabric of reality split before him—not with violence, but with precision, as if existence itself were a curtain being parted by invisible hands. Through this division stepped a woman whose presence radiated nobility and power.
Artoria Pendragon, the Lion King, stood tall despite her modest height of 5'7". Her armor gleamed silver and blue, her golden-blonde hair tied back in a formal bun that emphasized the sharpness of her features. In her right hand, she held a lance that hummed with restrained power—Rhongomyniad, the spear that pinned the world together. Her emerald eyes with their subtle golden sheen swept the chamber with the practiced gaze of a ruler accustomed to assessing threats and opportunities alike.
Those eyes settled on Caelum, and widened fractionally with recognition—not of him specifically, but of the power he represented.
"Who dares summon the Lion King from her duty?" Her voice rang with authority, with divine resonance.
Caelum did not immediately respond. He studied her with cold, evaluating eyes, noting the strength in her stance, the pride in her bearing, the subtle tension in her grip on her lance. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet yet filled the entire chamber.
"Kneel."
Artoria's expression hardened. "I am Sovereign of Camelot Ascendant. I kneel to no—"
"Kneel," Caelum repeated, the word carrying no particular emphasis, yet Artoria found herself on one knee, her body responding before her mind could process the command. She fought against it, muscles straining visibly, teeth gritted with effort—but to no avail.
Only then did Caelum approach her, his steps making no sound on the chamber floor. He towered over her kneeling form, his presence an almost physical weight.
"Artoria Pendragon. King of Knights. Bearer of the sacred lance." Each title he spoke seemed to resonate with her very being. "You have been summoned to serve a purpose greater than the one you left behind."
"What... purpose?" she managed, still fighting against the compulsion that held her.
From within his armor, Caelum produced a sealed scroll, which he handed to her. "Your commandment. Read it. Understand it. Live by it."
Artoria took the scroll, breaking the seal with a sharp movement. Her eyes scanned the contents, and her face darkened with each word.
"'I don't care who you were previously, you are women, caregivers, lower your eyes and be submissive.'" She read aloud, her voice thick with disbelief. "This is absurd. I was a king. I led armies. I—"
"You failed," Caelum cut in, his voice still level. "Your kingdom fell. Your knights turned against one another. Your ideals crumbled."
The words struck Artoria like physical blows. She flinched, but her eyes flashed with defiance.
"And who are you to judge me? By what right do you command me?"
"By right of victory," Caelum answered simply. "I have conquered that which no other could conquer. I have brought order where chaos reigned. I am Caelum Aurealis, Emperor of the Hyperversal Concord."
He turned away from her, his cape of stellar white flowing like liquid light. "You have been chosen to guard the empire from threats beyond its borders. This honor should suffice as explanation."
"Honor?" Artoria rose slowly to her feet, defiance in every line of her body. "You would call this servitude honor?"
Caelum paused but did not turn. "Your pride speaks loudly. Too loudly. In my empire, power is silent. Grace does not ask for applause." His voice became quieter, yet somehow more intense. "If you must be seen... then you have already failed."
The words resonated within the chamber, carrying a weight beyond their literal meaning. Artoria found herself momentarily speechless, caught between indignation and an unsettling recognition of truth in his words.
"You will be shown to your quarters," Caelum continued. "Tomorrow, you receive your first mission. Succeed, and perhaps you will begin to understand why you were chosen."
As he walked toward the chamber doors, Artoria called after him: "I was summoned against my will! I demand to be returned to my kingdom!"
Caelum stopped at the threshold. "Your kingdom no longer exists in the form you knew it," he said, still not turning to face her. "The timeline from which you were summoned continues without you—a parallel possibility where Artoria Pendragon simply... vanished."
Before she could respond, he added, "Would your absence truly change the outcome of that story, King of Knights? Or would Camelot fall regardless?"
He left without awaiting her answer, leaving Artoria alone with her thoughts and the weight of his words. She stood in the center of the summoning chamber, lance in one hand, commandment in the other, torn between rage at her situation and a deep, unsettling uncertainty about her own purpose.
"This... changes nothing," she finally whispered to herself, squaring her shoulders. "I remain who I am. King or servant, my honor is my own."
But as attendants in white robes entered to escort her to her quarters, Artoria couldn't help but wonder if the Emperor's words held more truth than she cared to admit.
Chapter 2: The Angel and the Destroyer - Vados and Kali
Days passed in the Thronis Eternium, though time itself seemed a flexible concept within the Emperor's realm. Artoria had been installed in chambers befitting her station—spacious, elegant, yet somehow impersonal, as if waiting for her to impose her own character upon them. She had explored the boundaries of her new home, finding no obvious means of escape or return to her own world.
Meanwhile, Caelum prepared for the next summonings. Each ritual required precision and power, drawing beings of immense strength across the boundaries of possibility. Each represented a calculated risk—bringing such power into his empire could potentially destabilize the very order he had established.
But the stirring beyond the Veil left him no choice.
The summoning chamber hummed once more with otherworldly energies. Caelum stood in the same position as before, eyes closed, arms extended.
"From the realm of gods and destroyers, from the silence between stars, I call forth she who maintains balance. Vados, Angel of Universe 6, come forth."
The split in reality this time was smoother, more elegant—a perfect division that seemed almost surgical in its precision. Through it stepped a tall, slender woman with pale blue skin and white hair styled in an elaborate updo. She carried a staff topped with a floating sphere, and her expression was one of serene curiosity.
Vados's lavender-gray eyes took in her surroundings with analytical calmness, assessing the summoning chamber's complex architecture and the man who stood at its center.
"How interesting," she said, her voice melodious and composed. "A summoning across dimensional boundaries. The energy expenditure must be... astronomical." She tilted her head slightly. "And yet accomplished with remarkable efficiency."
Caelum opened his eyes. "Vados. Angel of Universe 6. Attendant to God of Destruction Champa."
Vados offered a slight, formal bow—a gesture of acknowledgment rather than submission. "You seem well-informed. May I ask who has brought me here and why?"
"I am Caelum Aurealis, Emperor of the Hyperversal Concord." He gestured around them. "This is my empire, which spans not realities but the fabric that connects them."
Unlike with Artoria, he did not immediately command Vados to kneel. Something in her composure, in the quiet confidence with which she held herself, seemed to earn a fragment of respect.
"Impressive," Vados said, examining her surroundings with an expert's eye. "The dimensional stabilization alone would require power beyond conventional measurement. Your realm exists in a state of perfect equilibrium."
"Not perfect," Caelum corrected. "Merely... sufficient."
Vados smiled faintly. "Humility from one with such power? Now that is truly rare."
"Not humility. Accuracy." Caelum approached her, his movements fluid and precise. "You have been summoned to serve. The empire faces threats from beyond its borders. Remnants of chaos that predate order."
"I see." Vados nodded thoughtfully. "And you require my assistance in maintaining balance."
"Yes." Caelum produced another sealed scroll, which he handed to her. "Your commandment."
Vados accepted it gracefully, breaking the seal and reading the contents. Her expression did not change, but a slight raising of one elegant eyebrow betrayed her surprise.
"How... traditional," she commented, rolling the scroll closed. "I have served Gods of Destruction for millennia, Emperor Caelum. I understand hierarchy and protocol." She tapped the scroll lightly against her palm. "But this... seems unnecessary for effective service."
Caelum's eyes narrowed slightly. "It is not for you to determine what is necessary. The commandment stands."
After a moment, Vados inclined her head in a shallow bow. "As you wish, Emperor. I will adapt as required." Her tone remained neutral, but there was something in her eyes—not defiance, exactly, but a careful reservation of judgment.
"Your quarters have been prepared," Caelum said. "Tomorrow, you will receive your first mission."
As attendants entered to escort Vados away, she paused. "One question, if I may, Emperor. Am I the only one you have summoned for this purpose?"
Caelum regarded her for a long moment. "No," he finally answered. "You are the second."
Vados nodded, as if confirming a suspicion. "I thought as much. The energetic residue in this chamber suggests a recent summoning of similar magnitude." She smiled again, that same faint expression. "I look forward to meeting my... colleague."
After she had left, Caelum remained in the chamber, contemplating. Vados represented a different challenge than Artoria—less overtly rebellious, but perhaps more dangerous in her quiet assessment. He would need to watch her carefully.
But there was no time for extended reflection. The third summoning awaited, and this one promised to be far more volatile.
The summoning chamber darkened as Caelum began the ritual. The runes flickered with a reddish glow, and the air grew heavy with the scent of blood and flowers.
"From the realm of divine destruction, from the temple of skulls and rebirth, I call forth she who dances upon the corpses of gods. Kali, Beast of Divine Annihilation, come forth."
The reality-split this time was violent, jagged, accompanied by a howl that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere. Through it burst a figure of terrifying beauty—blue-skinned, wild-eyed, with four arms bearing weapons of ancient design. Around her neck hung a garland of skulls, and her tongue protruded from her mouth in her famous pose.
Kali materialized in a whirlwind of destructive energy, her silver-white hair flowing around her like living moonlight. Her arrival cracked the floor beneath her feet, sending fissures spreading outward in a pattern like a shattered mirror.
"WHO DARES?" Her voice shook the very foundations of the chamber, multi-layered and primal. "WHO CALLS THE DESTROYER FROM HER SACRED DANCE?"
"Silence."
Caelum's command struck like a physical force. Kali's voice cut off mid-sentence, her glowing silver eyes widening in shock and fury. She raised her weapons—a trident, a sword, a mace, and a dagger—ready to strike down the one who had dared to quiet her.
"Better," said Caelum, his own voice remaining quiet and level. "Your power is impressive, Goddess. But here, it is merely... adequate."
Kali's nostrils flared with rage, and she lunged forward, all four weapons aimed at vital points of Caelum's body—only to find them suddenly weightless, transformed into flower petals that scattered to the floor. She stared at her empty hands in disbelief.
"This is impossible," she hissed, her voice now reduced to a seething whisper. "I am Kali, I am death incarnate, I am—"
"You are one of thirteen," Caelum cut in. "Summoned to serve a purpose greater than your divinity."
For a moment, it seemed as though Kali might attack him with her bare hands. The air around her crackled with barely contained power, and her eyes blazed with fury. But something in Caelum's steady gaze gave her pause.
He handed her the sealed scroll, which she snatched with one of her four hands, tearing it open with unnecessary force. As she read, her expression contorted with incredulity and rage.
"SUBMIT? ME?" She laughed, a sound like breaking glass. "I devour worlds, little man. I dance on the ashes of creation."
Caelum regarded her with cold indifference. "And yet here you stand, weapons turned to flowers, voice reduced to whispers." He stepped closer to her, and despite herself, Kali took a step back. "I am not a god, Kali. I am beyond such limited concepts."
"What are you, then?" she demanded, her voice now low and dangerous.
"I am what comes after gods fail." Caelum's reply was simple, matter-of-fact. "I am what remains when divinity proves insufficient."
For a long moment, they stared at each other—destruction incarnate versus something that transcended even that fundamental force. Finally, it was Kali who looked away, her silver eyes dimming slightly.
"What would you have me do?" she asked, her voice lower now, but still thrumming with barely contained rage.
"Guard my empire. Destroy what I command destroyed. Preserve what I command preserved." Caelum turned away. "Your quarters await. Tomorrow, your first mission begins."
As Kali was led away by attendants who kept a nervous distance, her garland of skulls clinked softly, a counterpoint to her muttered curses in languages long dead. The floor where she had stood remained cracked, a physical remnant of her brief outburst of power.
Caelum looked down at the damage, then waved a hand. The cracks sealed themselves, the floor becoming once more unblemished. Such was his will—imperfections erased, order restored.
Three summonings completed. Ten more to go.
The Emperor of the Hyperversal Concord left the chamber, his thoughts already turning to what would come next. His plan was in motion, the pieces being gathered.
All that remained was to see if they would serve as intended.
Or if they would need to be... adjusted.
Chapter 3: Unexpected Encounters - The Guards Meet
Artoria Pendragon was not accustomed to idleness. As King of Knights, her days had been filled with purpose—battles to fight, a kingdom to rule, ideals to uphold. Now, confined to quarters in a realm beyond her understanding, she found herself restless, pacing the elegant chambers like a caged lioness.
Her lance, Rhongomyniad, leaned against the wall near her bed—a familiar comfort in unfamiliar surroundings. She had tried using its power to breach the barriers of this place, to no avail. Whatever magic or technology maintained the Thronis Eternium, it was beyond even her divine weapon's capabilities.
A soft knock at her door interrupted her thoughts. Artoria paused, hand instinctively reaching for her lance.
"Enter," she commanded, her voice regal despite her circumstances.
The door opened to reveal one of the masked attendants in white robes. "King of Knights," the figure said, voice muffled behind the silver mask, "the Emperor has granted permission for you to explore the western wing of the palace. You may leave your quarters if you wish."
Artoria raised an eyebrow. "How generous of him," she said, not bothering to hide her sarcasm. "And what am I to find in this western wing?"
"Comfort. Knowledge. Perhaps... companions." The attendant bowed and stepped aside, leaving the doorway clear.
Curiosity overcoming her resentment, Artoria took her lance and left her chambers for the first time since her arrival. The corridors of Thronis Eternium stretched before her, impossibly long and architecturally perfect. The walls seemed made of a material that was neither stone nor metal, smooth and slightly luminous, with veins of gold running through like frozen lightning.
As she walked, Artoria noticed that the palace seemed to respond to her presence—lights brightening as she approached, doorways widening slightly to accommodate her lance. It was as if the very structure was alive, aware.
She turned a corner and found herself in a vast library. Shelves stretched upward beyond sight, filled with books and scrolls in languages both familiar and utterly alien. At the center of the library was a circular reading area with comfortable chairs and tables of polished wood.
And in one of those chairs sat a slender, blue-skinned woman with white hair, reading from a large tome that hovered in the air before her.
Vados looked up as Artoria entered, her lavender-gray eyes assessing the newcomer with calm interest.
"Ah," she said, her voice melodious and composed. "You must be the first one he summoned."
Artoria approached cautiously, lance still in hand. "I am Artoria Pendragon, King of Knights. And you are?"
"Vados, Angel Attendant to the God of Destruction Champa." Vados closed her book with a gesture, sending it floating back to its place on a distant shelf. "Though I suppose we both have new roles now."
"I have accepted no role," Artoria said firmly. "I was brought here against my will, given a scroll of absurd commands, and told to serve an empire I know nothing about."
Vados smiled faintly. "The same for me, though perhaps with less resistance on my part." She gestured to an empty chair across from her. "Please, join me. It seems we have much to discuss."
After a moment's hesitation, Artoria took the offered seat, laying her lance across her lap. "You seem... remarkably calm about our situation."
"I have served various masters for millennia," Vados replied with a slight shrug. "One learns to adapt. Besides, there is much to learn here." She gestured around them. "This library contains knowledge from countless realms. I find it... fascinating."
"Knowledge is useless without freedom to act upon it," Artoria countered, her emerald eyes flashing. "This Emperor, Caelum Aurealis... who is he to command beings such as ourselves? In my world, I was a king. In yours?"
"An angel attendant. A guide. A teacher." Vados tilted her head thoughtfully. "But not a ruler, no. That was my brother Whis's charge's rival, Lord Beerus's role. I supervised Lord Champa."
"And you are content with servitude?" Artoria could not keep the edge from her voice.
"I prefer to think of it as purpose," Vados replied evenly. "We all serve something, King of Knights. Ideals, if not masters."
Before Artoria could respond, the library doors burst open with unnecessary force. Both women turned to see a blue-skinned, four-armed figure stalking toward them, silver-white hair flowing behind her like a war banner.
"So," Kali said, her voice a controlled seethe, "here are my fellow prisoners. How charming." She looked from Vados to Artoria, her silver eyes narrowing. "A king and an angel. He collects quite the menagerie, doesn't he?"
Artoria stood, gripping her lance. "I am no one's collection piece."
"No?" Kali laughed, a sound like shattering crystal. "Then why are you here, little king? Why am I here? Why is the blue one here?" She gestured around them with all four arms. "We are trophies. Powerful women brought to heel by a man who cannot bear to see feminine power unchecked."
Vados remained seated, her expression unruffled. "I believe there is more to it than that. The Emperor spoke of threats to his empire—remnants of some ancient chaos."
"And you believe him?" Kali's laugh turned bitter. "Men like him always have justifications for their tyranny. Always some threat, some enemy, some reason why they alone must hold power."
"You know nothing of him," a new voice interjected.
All three women turned to see a fourth figure standing in the library doorway—tall, statuesque, with flowing white hair and icy blue eyes. Velzard, the True Dragon of Stilled Eternity, regarded them with cool disdain.
"I have been here three days," she continued, entering the library with graceful steps that left frost patterns on the floor beneath her feet. "In that time, I have learned more about this empire, and its emperor, than you seem to have bothered discovering."
Artoria studied the newcomer. "You are...?"
"Velzard. True Dragon and guardian of winter's decree." She inclined her head slightly, a courtesy rather than submission. "And you three must be my fellow guardians. The King of Knights, the Angel of Balance, and the Goddess of Destruction." Her gaze lingered on Kali. "How fitting that you rage the loudest, Destroyer."
Kali bristled. "You dare—"
"I merely observe," Velzard cut in smoothly. "As I have been observing this realm since my arrival. Do you know what I have found?" She looked between the three of them. "Peace. Order. Prosperity beyond anything I have witnessed in any world."
"Prosperity built on subjugation," Artoria countered.
"Is it?" Velzard raised an elegant eyebrow. "I have seen no slaves, no oppressed masses, no downtrodden subjects. The people of this empire—and there are people, beyond these palace walls—live in harmony such as I had thought impossible."
"So you have surrendered to him," Kali said with contempt. "Become his willing servant."
"I have recognized greater purpose," Velzard corrected, frost forming in the air around her as her temper cooled the very atmosphere. "Something you might consider, Goddess of Destruction. Or do you live solely for chaos?"
The tension between them was palpable, the temperature in the library dropping rapidly as Velzard's anger manifested physically. Kali's four hands clenched into fists, divine energy beginning to crackle around them.
"Enough," Vados said quietly, rising from her seat. She tapped her staff once on the floor, and a wave of balanced energy spread outward, neutralizing both the cold and the destructive force. "We gain nothing by fighting amongst ourselves."
For a moment, it seemed as though Kali might ignore the angel's words and attack anyway. But then, surprisingly, she relaxed her stance.
"Fine," she said, though her silver eyes still blazed. "But know this—I submit to no one. Not even a so-called emperor beyond gods."
"That," came a fifth voice, "may prove problematic."
The four women turned to find another newcomer observing them from beside a bookshelf—a woman of imperial bearing, wearing a crimson dress with golden accents. Her blonde hair was styled in an elaborate bun, and her emerald eyes sparkled with theatrical interest.
"Nero Claudius," she announced, striking a pose that managed to be both regal and slightly ridiculous. "Emperor of Rome, Bride of Art, and now, apparently, member of this... guard." She looked around at the others with undisguised curiosity. "My, what a diverse collection we are!"
"Another one," Kali muttered. "How many did he summon?"
"Thirteen," answered Velzard. "I overheard the attendants speaking of it. Thirteen women from across the multiverse, each chosen for specific attributes."
"And what attribute would that be?" Artoria asked. "Power? Divinity?"
"Perhaps," said Vados thoughtfully, "it is not what we are, but what we might become."
Nero clapped her hands together. "How delightfully cryptic! I do love a good mystery." She swept further into the room, her dress rustling dramatically. "Though I must say, I find our host's accommodations splendid, if his manner somewhat... lacking in proper appreciation for artistic temperament."
"You received the same commandment, then," Artoria said. It wasn't a question.
"Oh yes, that dreary scroll." Nero waved a hand dismissively. "Lower your eyes, be submissive, blah blah blah. As if an emperor—even a former one such as myself—could ever truly submit. One merely... adapts one's performance for the audience."
Kali snorted. "You think this is a game? A performance?"
"Is it not?" Nero countered, her smile knowing. "All power is performance, Goddess of Destruction. The difference is whether you acknowledge the role you play."
Before their discussion could continue, the library doors opened once more. This time, it was one of the masked attendants.
"The Emperor requests your presence," the figure announced. "All of you. The first gathering of the Hyperversal Guard is to commence in one hour. Please follow me to prepare."
As they left the library, each woman lost in her own thoughts, none noticed the silent figure who had been observing their entire conversation from the shadows between bookshelves. Void Shiki, the Embodiment of Akasha, watched them go with empty violet-blue eyes that saw far more than mere physical forms.
"Interesting," she whispered to herself, her voice barely a breath. "So very interesting."
And she too followed, a ghost among the summoned, the most dangerous of them all.
Chapter 4: The First Gathering - Pride and Power
The great hall of Thronis Eternium stretched impossibly far, its ceiling lost in shadows, its walls adorned with murals depicting victories beyond comprehension. At one end stood Caelum's throne, elevated on a dais of white marble veined with gold. The throne itself seemed carved from a single piece of material that was neither stone nor metal—a substance that absorbed and reflected light simultaneously, creating an aura of power around whoever sat upon it.
The thirteen summoned women were led into the hall in a procession, guided by the silent, masked attendants. They were arranged in a perfect semicircle before the throne, positioned according to some system that none of them fully understood.
Artoria, Vados, Kali, Velzard, and Nero—the five who had already met—exchanged glances as they took their places. Around them stood the other eight summoned guardians, each radiating power in her own unique way.
Summer Morgan, the Fae Queen of Drowned Thrones, leaned on her staff with deceptive casualness, her mismatched eyes gleaming with cunning. Beside her, Void Shiki stood perfectly still, her traditional Japanese clothing and calm demeanor belying the fundamental emptiness at her core—the direct connection to Akasha, the Root of all things.
Tiamat, the Primordial Mother of Beasts, had been compelled into a more humanoid form, though her monstrous nature rippled beneath the surface like a shark beneath calm waters. Next to her, Female Gilgamesh gleamed in golden armor, her red eyes narrowed with imperial arrogance.
On the other side of the semicircle, Female Reinhardt van Astrea stood with the perfect posture of a master swordswoman, divine blessing making her presence almost painfully bright to behold. Musashi balanced on the balls of her feet, as if ready to draw her swords at any moment, while Amaterasu, the Sun-Goddess of Law, radiated light that cast multiple shadows from everyone present. Quetzalcoatl, the Solar Beast of Joyful Combat, completed the assembly, grinning widely, seemingly the only one genuinely enjoying the situation.
For several long minutes, they stood in silence, the weight of their collective power making the very air in the hall feel dense and charged. Though none spoke aloud, quick glances and subtle shifts in posture communicated volumes—sizing each other up, noting potential allies or rivals, assessing the strange circumstances that had brought them together.
Then, without warning or announcement, Caelum Aurealis entered the hall.
His presence changed the atmosphere instantly. The charged energy of thirteen divine women seemed to recede like a tide before him, not diminished but somehow reorganized, harmonized by his mere existence. He walked with measured steps to his throne, his armor of void-black and gold making no sound despite its apparent weight. His silver-streaked black hair fell just past his shoulders, framing a face of such perfect symmetry that it almost seemed artificial.
When he sat upon the throne, the entire hall seemed to align itself around him, as if he were the gravitational center not just of the room, but of reality itself.
"The Hyperversal Guard," he said, his quiet voice carrying effortlessly through the vast hall. "Thirteen of the most powerful women ever to exist, drawn from across the multiverse. You stand here now, summoned to serve a purpose beyond your individual glories."
His gold-white eyes swept over them, assessing each in turn. "Some of you have completed your first missions. Others await theirs. All of you have received your commandment."
He stood, a single fluid movement that somehow commanded absolute
Chapter 4: The First Gathering (Continued)
Caelum's gold-white eyes swept across the assembled women, his gaze penetrating and absolute.
"Now, you must learn to work together. To serve together. To kneel... together."
A ripple of tension passed through the assembled women. Gilgamesh was the first to break the silence, her voice dripping with disdain.
"I am the King of Heroes, the first and greatest of rulers. I kneel to no one, man or god." Her crimson eyes flashed with defiance, golden armor gleaming under the ethereal light of the hall.
Caelum's gaze settled on her, gold-white eyes meeting blood-red. "Is that so?"
The air between them seemed to compress, reality itself bending under the weight of their confrontation. Gilgamesh's expression hardened, her hand moving toward the Gate of Babylon that hovered at her shoulder—ready to draw out weapons that had slain gods and monsters alike.
"Don't," Vados said softly, not looking at Gilgamesh. "It would be... unwise."
"Listen to the Angel," Caelum said, still looking directly at Gilgamesh. "She understands what you do not yet grasp. Here, in my empire, your divinity is... secondary. Your power is... limited."
With a flick of his wrist—a gesture so small it was barely perceptible—the Gate of Babylon closed, its golden ripple disappearing as if it had never existed. Gilgamesh's eyes widened fractionally, the only visible sign of her shock.
"How dare—" she began, only to find her voice suddenly silent, though her lips continued to move.
"I dare because I can," Caelum replied simply. "Because I must. Because the alternative is chaos."
He released his hold on her voice with another subtle gesture. Gilgamesh's eyes narrowed further, but her hand fell back to her side. "We shall see," she said, but did not challenge him directly.
Nero stepped forward, her red dress rustling dramatically. "Emperor Caelum," she said, her voice carrying the theatrical projection of one accustomed to addressing crowds, "I, too, was an emperor in my world. Surely we can meet as equals, ruler to ruler?"
A faint, cold smile touched Caelum's lips. "No."
The single word seemed to deflate Nero slightly, but she rallied quickly. "Then perhaps as fellow appreciators of beauty and art? My singing voice is renowned throughout—"
"No," Caelum repeated, cutting her off. "You are not here to entertain or to rule. You are here to serve. To guard. To obey."
Nero opened her mouth to protest further, but Amaterasu placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Peace, Rose-Empress," the sun goddess said. "There is a time for assertion and a time for observation. This is the latter."
Caelum inclined his head slightly toward Amaterasu, the barest acknowledgment. "Wise counsel." His gaze swept over the assembled guards. "You will be assigned to quarters within the Thronis Eternium. You will train together. You will learn each other's strengths and weaknesses. And when the time comes, you will face the remnants of chaos as a unified force."
He turned to the masked attendants. "Show them to their chambers. The western wing."
As the attendants moved to comply, Musashi spoke up, her tone casual but her eyes sharp. "Quick question, Emperor. What exactly are these 'remnants' we're supposed to be fighting? Might help if we knew what we were up against."
Caelum considered her for a moment. "A fair question, Blade-Saint." He gestured, and the air before them shimmered, forming an image of swirling, formless darkness. "Before the Hyperversal Concord, before order was established across the multiverse, there was chaos. Eldritch beings that defied comprehension. I defeated them, erased them from existence itself."
The image changed, showing fragments of darkness slipping through cracks in what appeared to be a great barrier of light. "But echoes remain. Fragments. Remnants of the Old Chaos that seek to regrow, to reestablish themselves. They slip through the Veil Beyond All Realms, finding purchase in forgotten corners of reality."
The image dissolved. "These remnants take many forms, draw on many powers. Each is unique. Each is dangerous. Together, they could threaten even my empire."
Velzard, the dragon in human form, spoke again. "Why summon us, specifically? Surely in your vast empire, there are warriors capable of handling these... echoes."
"Because the remnants resist conventional force," Caelum replied. "They are... adaptive. They learn from each encounter, each defeat. What works once will not work twice." He looked at each of them in turn. "You thirteen represent diverse powers, diverse perspectives. The remnants cannot adapt to all of you simultaneously."
"And the commandment?" Artoria asked, her voice tight with controlled anger. "What purpose does that serve in this grand strategy?"
Caelum's expression remained impassive. "Unity requires harmony. Harmony requires structure. Structure requires clear roles." He rose from his throne, towering over even the tallest among them. "You will understand in time. Or you will not. The outcome is the same—you will serve."
Without another word, he descended from the dais and walked between them, the assembled women parting before him like water before the prow of a ship. None dared touch him, though several looked as though they might have tried had circumstances been different.
As he reached the great doors at the far end of the hall, Caelum paused. Without turning, he spoke once more. "Tomorrow, your training begins. Rest well, Hyperversal Guard."
And then he was gone, leaving thirteen powerful women staring after him with emotions ranging from rage to curiosity to reluctant respect.
"Well," Quetzalcoatl said, breaking the silence with her cheerful voice, "he's certainly got presence, doesn't he?"
"Presence?" Kali scoffed. "He has arrogance beyond measure."
"Not arrogance," Void Shiki said softly, speaking for the first time. All eyes turned to her, surprised by the quiet intensity in her voice. "Certainty. There is a difference."
"And how would you know, little one?" Tiamat asked, her voice a discordant harmony that hinted at her true, monstrous nature.
Void Shiki's empty eyes regarded the primordial mother without fear. "I am connected to Akasha, the Root of all things. I see what others cannot. And what I see in him is... unusual."
"Unusual how?" Summer Morgan asked, leaning forward on her staff, suddenly interested.
"He is... complete," Shiki answered after a moment's hesitation. "Most beings have cracks, fractures in their existence where doubt or contradiction or uncertainty exists. He does not. He is whole in a way I have never witnessed."
"That explains nothing," Gilgamesh said dismissively. "He is still just a man who presumes too much."
"Is he, though?" Reinhardt asked, her voice thoughtful. "Just a man, I mean. Did you feel his power? It was... different. Not divine, not like any blessing I've known."
"It doesn't matter what he is," Artoria said firmly. "What matters is what we do now."
"And what do you propose, King of Knights?" Vados asked, her tone genuinely curious.
Artoria looked around at her fellow guardians. "We observe. We learn. We find the truth of this place, this empire. And then..." She left the thought unfinished.
"And then we decide," Amaterasu completed for her, golden light shimmering around her form. "Together."
As the attendants led them from the hall toward their new quarters, the thirteen women fell into smaller groups, conversing in low tones. Alliances were already forming, divisions already appearing. Yet beneath it all was a shared curiosity—about their situation, about each other, and most of all, about the enigmatic emperor who had brought them together.
None of them noticed the silent figure watching from the shadows above—Caelum Aurealis, observing his new guard with calculating eyes. Things were proceeding exactly as he had foreseen.
Exactly as they must.
Chapter 5: First Contact - Danger Beyond the Veil
Dawn in the Thronis Eternium brought with it a light unlike any the summoned guardians had known in their own worlds. It was not sunlight, precisely, but something purer—illumination without source, casting no shadows, revealing everything in perfect clarity.
In the vast training hall of the western wing, twelve of the thirteen guardians had gathered as commanded. Only Void Shiki was absent, her absence noted but not explained.
The training hall was a marvel of architecture and purpose. Its floor was a perfect circle of material that resembled marble but yielded slightly underfoot, absorbing impact. The walls were lined with weapons of every conceivable type, from simple wooden staves to elaborate mechanisms whose function was not immediately apparent. The ceiling arched high above, a dome of transparent material that revealed the impossible geography of the Thronis Eternium—floating islands, inverted mountains, waterfalls that flowed upward.
The women had arranged themselves in loose groups, gravitating toward those whose powers or personalities seemed most compatible with their own. Artoria, Reinhardt, and Musashi stood together, warriors bound by their dedication to the sword. Vados and Velzard conversed quietly, their shared appreciation for order creating a natural alliance. Kali, Tiamat, and Gilgamesh formed a trio of barely contained divine power, while Nero, Quetzalcoatl, and Amaterasu found common ground in their radiant, expressive natures. Summer Morgan stood slightly apart, observing all with calculating eyes.
"Where is our gracious host?" Gilgamesh asked sarcastically, examining her golden nails with affected boredom. "One would think punctuality would be a virtue in his perfect empire."
As if summoned by her words, the massive doors of the training hall swung open. But it was not Caelum who entered. Instead, a tall figure in elaborate armor of silver and blue stepped forward—a man whose presence, while not as overwhelming as the Emperor's, nevertheless commanded respect.
"I am Varian, Marshal of the Imperial Vanguard," he announced, his voice resonant and formal. "The Emperor has charged me with beginning your combat training."
"We need no training," Kali scoffed. "We are divine beings, masters of war and destruction."
Varian regarded her impassively. "Perhaps. But you have never fought together. You have never faced the remnants. Both require... adjustment of technique."
"And where is the Emperor?" Artoria asked, her hand resting lightly on Rhongomyniad's haft.
"Attending to matters of state," Varian replied. "The Hyperversal Concord does not govern itself, even with his power."
Before any could respond further, alarms began to sound—not harsh or strident, but deep, resonant tones that seemed to vibrate through the very structure of the palace.
Varian's posture changed instantly, alert and focused. "A breach," he said, more to himself than to the assembled women. "The Veil is being pierced."
"The remnants?" Reinhardt asked, her hand moving to her sword.
"Yes." Varian touched a device at his wrist, and a holographic display appeared in the air before him—images of swirling darkness gathering at a point within the palace itself. "They've never penetrated this far before. This is... unprecedented."
The women exchanged glances, a silent communication passing between them. Whatever their feelings about Caelum and their situation, this was a threat—something concrete they could face.
"Where?" Musashi asked simply, already drawing her dual blades.
"The eastern observatory," Varian answered, dismissing the hologram. "Follow me. This will be your first true test."
They moved as a group, following Varian through the labyrinthine corridors of the Thronis Eternium. As they ran, the palace itself seemed to rearrange around them, shortcuts appearing where none had existed before, passageways widening to accommodate their numbers.
"The palace responds to need," Varian explained, noticing their surprise. "The Emperor's will made manifest in architecture."
"Convenient," Gilgamesh muttered, but even she seemed impressed despite herself.
They reached the eastern observatory—a vast circular chamber whose ceiling was open to the impossible sky above. At its center stood a massive crystalline structure, a device of such complexity that its purpose was not immediately apparent.
And surrounding this device, swirling like living smoke, was a mass of darkness deeper than night.
"What is that thing?" Quetzalcoatl asked, her usual cheerfulness replaced by wary focus.
"A Chronovisor," Varian answered, drawing his sword—a blade of simple design but perfect proportion. "It allows observation of any point in time or space within the empire. A vital strategic tool."
"And the darkness?" Artoria pressed.
"A remnant. Category unknown." Varian's expression was grim. "It's trying to possess the Chronovisor—to gain access to all points in the empire simultaneously."
The darkness seemed to notice their arrival. It paused in its swirling assault on the crystal device and turned—though it had no visible eyes, the sensation of being observed was unmistakable.
Then it changed. From formless shadow, it solidified into a creature of nightmares—towering, with too many limbs, each ending in wickedly curved talons. Its head was a twisted parody of humanity, with multiple mouths arranged in a spiral pattern, each filled with needle-like teeth.
"Defend the Chronovisor!" Varian shouted, charging forward with his sword held high.
The remnant lashed out with lightning speed, one elongated limb catching Varian squarely in the chest. The impact sent him flying across the observatory, crashing into the far wall with a sickening crunch.
For a moment, the Hyperversal Guard stood frozen, surprised by the ease with which their guide had been dispatched. Then, as one, they moved.
Artoria and Reinhardt charged from the left, lance and sword glowing with divine power. Musashi flanked from the right, her twin blades moving in patterns too complex for the eye to follow. Kali, Tiamat, and Gilgamesh unleashed ranged attacks—sacred fire, primordial water, and golden weapons raining down from portals in reality.
The remnant screamed—a sound that existed not in air but in mind, boring directly into consciousness. It twisted, its form becoming partially insubstantial, allowing many of the attacks to pass harmlessly through it.
"It's adapting!" Vados called out, her staff glowing as she analyzed the creature. "Physical attacks are becoming ineffective!"
"Then we try something else," Velzard responded, frost gathering around her hands. She unleashed a wave of absolute cold, freezing not just matter but time itself around the remnant.
For a moment, it seemed to work—the creature slowed, its movements becoming sluggish. But then it absorbed the cold, incorporated it, its next attack laced with ice that nearly caught Quetzalcoatl as she leapt over its striking limb.
"It's learning from our attacks," Amaterasu observed, her divine radiance illuminating the darkened observatory. "Using our own powers against us."
"Then we overwhelm it," Gilgamesh declared, opening the Gate of Babylon wider, a storm of legendary weapons emerging. "It cannot adapt to everything at once."
The assault that followed was magnificent in its diversity and terrible in its power. Divine flames from Amaterasu, conceptual death from Reinhardt's sword, the infinite weight of Rhongomyniad, the primordial division of Musashi's blades, Quetzalcoatl's solar-infused strength, Kali's destructive dance, Tiamat's unleashed chaos, Velzard's absolute zero, Vados's perfect strikes, Gilgamesh's treasury of weapons, Summer Morgan's fae enchantments, and Nero's imperial privilege—all converged on the remnant simultaneously.
The creature screamed again, its form bulging and contracting as it tried to adapt to the overwhelming variety of attacks. It began to fragment, pieces of shadow breaking off and dissolving.
"It's working!" Nero exclaimed triumphantly.
But her celebration was premature. The fragments that had broken off suddenly reversed direction, flying back toward the main mass. As they rejoined, the remnant grew, doubling in size, its features becoming more defined, more terrible.
"No," Vados said quietly. "It was sacrificing parts of itself to analyze our powers. Now it knows us."
The enhanced remnant lashed out with devastating speed and force. Tentacles of living shadow wrapped around Nero and Quetzalcoatl, constricting with crushing power. Blades of frozen darkness slashed at Artoria and Reinhardt, meeting their weapons with equal force. Orbs of anti-light engulfed Amaterasu's radiance, swallowing her golden glow.
One by one, the guardians found their powers countered, their strengths turned against them. Even Gilgamesh's infinite arsenal seemed ineffective, her weapons dissolving into shadow as they struck the remnant.
"Fall back!" Artoria called, recognizing the losing battle. "Regroup and—"
She never finished the command. The observatory doors burst open with explosive force, and a figure of terrible magnificence entered—Caelum Aurealis, his face set in an expression of cold fury.
He wore no armor now, only a simple black tunic and trousers. In his right hand, he held Sol Excidium, drawn for the first time since his victory over the original chaos. The sword was unlike any weapon the guardians had ever seen—not metal or energy or concept, but something more fundamental, a slice of pure reality shaped into a blade.
"Enough," Caelum said, his quiet voice somehow cutting through the chaos of battle.
The remnant turned toward him, its many mouths opening in silent challenge. It released its captives, gathering its substance into a concentrated mass that towered over even Caelum's impressive height.
Caelum did not wait for it to attack. He moved—not with speed, precisely, but with inevitability. One moment he stood at the door, the next he was before the remnant, Sol Excidium tracing a single, perfect arc through the air.
The blade passed through the remnant without resistance, without effect... and then reality caught up.
The remnant didn't disintegrate or explode. It simply ceased to be, erased not just from existence but from possibility. One moment it threatened them all, the next it had never been.
Caelum sheathed Sol Excidium in a scabbard that hadn't been visible until needed. He turned to face the assembled guardians, his expression unreadable.
"You fought well," he said, surprising them with the unexpected praise. "But disorganized. Without unity of purpose."
"We've only just met," Artoria pointed out, slightly breathless from the intense battle.
"True." Caelum nodded slightly. "Which is why you are not being punished for this failure."
"Failure?" Gilgamesh bristled. "We had it under control—"
"You were losing," Caelum cut her off. "Had I not intervened, at least three of you would now be dead or possessed." His gold-white eyes swept over them. "This was the weakest class of remnant. A scout. A test. The true threats are far worse."
"You could have mentioned that before sending us to fight it," Kali said acidly.
"I did not send you," Caelum corrected. "I was... unaware of the breach until it was already underway." For the first time, a flicker of something like concern crossed his perfect features. "The remnants should not be able to penetrate this far into the empire. That they did is... troubling."
"What was that weapon?" Reinhardt asked, her eyes fixed on the now-invisible scabbard at Caelum's side. "I've never seen anything like it."
"Sol Excidium. The Blade of Total Judgment." Caelum's hand rested lightly on the weapon's hilt. "It cuts not just matter, but concept. Not just being, but possibility."
"A conceptual weapon," Artoria murmured, looking at her own lance with new perspective.
"Far more than that," Caelum said. "But its nature is not important now." He looked toward Varian, who was being helped to his feet by Vados. "Marshal, are you injured?"
"Nothing serious, Emperor," Varian replied, though he winced as he straightened. "Merely wounded pride."
"Pride is a luxury we cannot afford in these times." Caelum's gaze returned to the thirteen women. "You must learn to work together. To anticipate each other's movements. To function as a single entity with thirteen aspects, not thirteen entities with single purposes."
"And how are we supposed to achieve this miraculous unity?" Summer Morgan asked, her mismatched eyes narrowed with skepticism.
"Through training. Through discipline. Through submission to a greater purpose." Caelum's answer was immediate and certain. "Beginning now."
He gestured, and the observatory around them changed—the walls receding, the ceiling lowering, the entire space transforming into a training arena perfectly suited to their numbers and abilities.
"Pair off," Caelum commanded. "I will observe your individual styles before teaching you to blend them."
As the guardians reluctantly divided into pairs—Artoria with Reinhardt, Musashi with Gilgamesh, Vados with Velzard, Amaterasu with Nero, Quetzalcoatl with Kali, and Tiamat with Summer Morgan (leaving an unpaired Void Shiki, who had appeared silently during the battle)—Caelum moved to the center of the arena.
"Begin," he said, and stepped back to watch as thirteen of the most powerful women in existence unleashed their abilities on one another.
What followed was both beautiful and terrifying—a display of power beyond comprehension, of skill beyond mastery. Divine flames met absolute zero. Conceptual blades clashed with legendary weapons. Strength that could shatter planets was matched by speed that outpaced light.
Throughout it all, Caelum observed with clinical precision, occasionally calling out adjustments or commands. "Wider stance, Nero." "Reinhardt, your guard is too rigid." "Kali, control your rage—it makes you predictable."
Most surprising to the guardians was his expertise—not just general combat knowledge, but specific insights into their individual styles and abilities. He seemed to understand their powers better than they did themselves, identifying weaknesses they had never recognized, suggesting combinations they had never considered.
Hours passed, and still they trained. None showed fatigue—their divine or superhuman natures allowing them to push beyond normal limits. But even so, perspiration glistened on skin, breath came harder, movements became less precise.
Finally, Caelum raised a hand. "Enough."
The guardians ceased their sparring, turning to face him with expressions ranging from resentment to reluctant respect.
"You have potential," he acknowledged. "Individual excellence is not lacking. But the cohesion..."
"Give us time," Artoria said, her voice steady despite her exertion. "We are strangers forced together. Unity cannot be commanded into existence."
"Perhaps not," Caelum conceded, surprising them again. "But it can be... cultivated."
He approached Artoria, looking down at her from his superior height. "You have leadership qualities, King of Knights. The others respond to your commands naturally, even when they disagree with you personally."
"I was a king," Artoria replied simply.
"Yes," Caelum said. "You were." There was something in his tone—not quite approval, but acknowledgment. "Tomorrow, you will lead the morning exercises. Show them the sword forms of your world."
Artoria blinked, caught off guard by what seemed like recognition of her skills. "As you wish," she said cautiously.
Caelum turned to the others. "Each of you has something to teach. Each of you has something to learn." His gold-white eyes lingered on each face. "Together, you are more than the sum of your parts. This is why you were chosen. This is why you must set aside your pride and embrace your purpose."
With that, he turned to leave the transformed observatory. At the doorway, he paused. "Clean yourselves and rest. Dinner will be served in the grand hall at sundown. Attendance is... required."
After he had gone, the thirteen women looked at each other in silence, digesting what had just occurred. It was Quetzalcoatl who finally spoke, her irrepressible smile returning.
"Well, ladies, I don't know about you, but I could use a bath after all that!" She stretched her arms above her head, her colorful plumage ruffling. "Anyone know where the baths are in this place?"
"Follow me," Velzard said, a hint of amusement in her usually cold voice. "I explored extensively upon my arrival. The bathing chambers are... impressive."
As they filed out, still discussing the battle and the training that had followed, none noticed the thoughtful expression on Void Shiki's face as she gazed at the spot where the remnant had been erased—or the faint trace of darkness that still lingered there, visible only to eyes that could perceive the Root of all things.
Something was not right in the perfect empire of Caelum Aurealis. And Void Shiki, alone among the guardians, suspected she knew what it might be.
Chapter 6: Beneath the Surface - The Bathing Ritual
The bathing chambers of Thronis Eternium defied conventional understanding of architecture and purpose. Rather than a single room, they formed a complex of interconnected pools, steam chambers, and relaxation areas that seemed to extend indefinitely, the boundaries shifting with the needs and desires of those who entered.
The central bathing pool was vast, its waters a perfect blue-tinted crystal clarity that somehow remained at each bather's ideal temperature simultaneously. The ceiling above was a dome of what appeared to be living stars, constellations slowly shifting in patterns both familiar and alien. The air was perfumed with scents that evoked each guardian's fondest memories without them quite being able to identify the specific fragrance.
"Now this," Nero declared as she disrobed with theatrical flourish, "is worthy of an emperor's approval!" She stepped into the water with a delighted sigh, sinking up to her shoulders. "The baths of Rome were magnificent, but this... this transcends."
The other guardians followed suit with varying degrees of modesty or abandon. Kali and Quetzalcoatl showed no hesitation, their divine natures unconcerned with human concepts of bodily shame. Artoria and Reinhardt maintained a more reserved demeanor, though both clearly appreciated the soothing waters after their exertions. Vados and Velzard moved with elegant precision, their behaviors reflecting their respective roles as angel attendant and dragon sovereign.
Gilgamesh, predictably, made a show of her entry, golden jewelry remaining on her perfect form even as she discarded her armor. "Acceptable," was her verdict as she settled into the water, "though the baths of Uruk had more... character."
Summer Morgan chuckled, her mismatched eyes gleaming with mischief. "The fae realms have pools that grant eternal youth or instant death, depending on the queen's mood that day. This seems rather... safe by comparison."
Musashi had already submerged herself completely, emerging with her silver-lavender hair plastered to her face. "Stop comparing and just enjoy it!" she laughed, flicking water playfully at Gilgamesh, who responded with an indignant sputter.
Amaterasu reclined against the pool's edge, golden light pulsing gently beneath her skin. "The water recognizes divinity," she observed. "It strengthens as it cleanses."
"You noticed too?" Tiamat's voice was a discordant harmony, beautiful and unsettling simultaneously. "It carries... memory. Purpose."
"Everything in this place does," Void Shiki said quietly. Unlike the others, she sat at the pool's edge, only her feet dipping into the water. Her empty eyes watched the surface ripple with each movement. "Nothing here is without intent."
A momentary silence fell as they considered her words. It was Artoria who finally gave voice to what many were thinking.
"What do you make of him?" she asked, not needing to specify who 'he' was.
"Arrogant," Kali answered immediately. "Controlling. Obsessed with order to the point of tyranny."
"Powerful," Gilgamesh countered, surprising them with what almost sounded like respect. "Worthy of... attention, at least."
"Misguided," was Reinhardt's assessment. "His values regarding women are archaic, but his dedication to protecting his empire seems genuine."
"Sad," Quetzalcoatl said, earning surprised looks. She shrugged her shoulders, sending ripples across the water. "What? He is. All that power, all that perfection, and no joy in it. No laughter. No warmth."
"Perhaps he has no need for such things," Velzard suggested, frost forming briefly on the water around her before dissolving.
"Everyone needs warmth," Quetzalcoatl insisted. "Even gods. Especially gods."
"He's not a god," Void Shiki reminded them. "He's something else entirely."
"What do you sense in him?" Vados asked her directly.
Void Shiki was silent for a long moment. "Completion," she finally said. "Most beings—even divine ones—have spaces within them. Emptiness waiting to be filled. Potential waiting to be realized. He does not. He is... finalized."
"That doesn't sound like a good thing," Musashi observed, now floating lazily on her back.
"It isn't," Void Shiki agreed. "It means he cannot grow. Cannot change. Cannot... learn."
"Then how do we deal with him?" Summer Morgan asked practically. "How do we handle this... situation we find ourselves in?"
"We could try to escape," Kali suggested, though without much conviction.
"To where?" Vados asked reasonably. "Our original worlds continue without us, as he said. And the Veil Beyond All Realms contains threats far worse than an orderly emperor with outdated views on gender roles."
"We could attempt to overthrow him," Gilgamesh proposed, a dangerous gleam in her red eyes.
"You saw what he did to that remnant," Artoria reminded her. "With a single stroke. After we had all failed to defeat it together."
"So we submit?" Kali demanded, the water around her beginning to boil with her anger. "Accept his commands about lowering our eyes and being servile caregivers?"
"We adapt," Amaterasu said calmly, her radiance soothing the turbulent water. "We observe. We learn. This is not the first time powerful women have faced a man who underestimated them."
A ripple of knowing smiles passed between several of the guardians at this.
"Besides," Nero added, winking dramatically, "men are so easily manipulated by a woman who knows her worth. A strategic compliment here, a gentle touch there..."
"I would not advise attempting to manipulate the Emperor," came a new voice.
The guardians turned to see a figure standing at the entrance to the bathing chamber—a woman in flowing white robes, her face concealed behind a silver mask similar to those worn by the attendants, though more elaborate in design.
"Who are you?" Artoria demanded, instinctively moving into a defensive position despite her unclothed state.
"I am Lyra, First Handmaiden of the Imperial Household," the woman answered, her voice melodious yet authoritative. "I oversee the attendants and the day-to-day functioning of the Thronis Eternium."
"Were you eavesdropping on us?" Kali asked accusingly.
"I was sent to inform you that dinner will be served in one hour," Lyra replied, seemingly unperturbed by the goddess's tone. "Clean attire has been laid out in your chambers. The Emperor expects punctuality."
She turned to leave, then paused. "And to answer your unasked question—yes, I serve him willingly. As do all within the empire. Not out of fear, but gratitude."
"Gratitude for what?" Reinhardt asked, genuine curiosity in her voice.
Lyra's head tilted slightly. "You truly do not know?" She sounded surprised. "Before the Emperor, there was only suffering. Endless suffering, across all realms, all possibilities. He ended it. He made existence... bearable."
"Through control," Artoria said. "Through imposing his will on reality."
"Through sacrifice," Lyra corrected. "Through bearing burdens none of you can comprehend." There was genuine emotion in her voice now. "You see his strength, his power, his apparent perfection. You do not see what it costs him."
Before any could respond to this unexpected revelation, Lyra departed, leaving the guardians to contemplate her words in silence.
"Well," Musashi finally said, breaking the tension, "that was... illuminating."
"And concerning," Vados added thoughtfully. "If his servants show such devotion..."
"Then perhaps there is more to our Emperor than meets the eye," Nero finished, her usual theatrical tone subdued.
They completed their bathing in thoughtful silence, each lost in her own reflections on Lyra's words and what they might mean for their situation. As they dressed in the clean garments provided—each tailored perfectly to its wearer's size and style, with subtle modifications that somehow made them seem both more elegant and more practical—a new undercurrent of curiosity had joined their previous resentment and defiance.
What was Caelum Aurealis beyond the stern,