Return to Evolto

As I stepped through the rift, the familiar energy of Evolto City washed over me. The battle had left me drained, but I forced myself to keep moving, following Dr. Wagner and Zalthorion. Wagner muttered to himself in his thick German accent, checking his medical equipment as we walked.

"Zis vas quite the mess," he grumbled. "I haff seen many things, but zat place? Bah! A waste of reality."

I let out a tired chuckle, collapsing into a chair in Zalthorion's chamber. The room was quiet, save for the distant hum of energy coursing through the walls. The weight of everything settled onto my shoulders the fight, the mission, Xytheron's words. He had nearly killed me. I needed to be stronger.

Zalthorion returned shortly after, a large bag of coins in his hand. He tossed it onto the table in front of me, the metal clinking together.

"This is your payment," he said, his voice even. "And compensation for forcing you to go through that... Riverdale universe."

I raised an eyebrow. "So you do feel bad about it."

Zalthorion gave the slightest smirk. "No. But I do value your time."

I picked up the bag, weighing it in my hands. It was heavy. Not just in coin, but in meaning. This mission had revealed something dangerous Xytheron was stronger than I expected. And he wasn't done.

I exhaled. "So… what's next?"

"You get to have a rest," Zalthorion said, his voice calm and reassuring. With that, Dr. Wagner and I left the room, walking side by side as we made our way down the hallway.

Dr. Wagner, as always, had something to say. "You know," he began with his distinct German accent, "while ve don't have pickpockets or thieves here, carrying around all that gold might be... how you say, 'a bit too much'?"

I chuckled lightly at his point. "Yeah, I was thinking the same."

He smiled, hands clasped behind his back. "Instead of carrying all zat, why not use ze bank? They give you zese cards now much more convenient for payment. And since today happens to be the anniversary of ze Metallurges gaining sentience, zey are offering a special gift."

"Special gift?" I asked, curious.

"Ja, exactly," he said, a bit of excitement in his voice. "A magma-patterned wallet. Looks like actual lava is flowing through it. Quite fascinating, I must say. And it doubles as a hand warmer in ze winter."

I raised an eyebrow. "A wallet that heats up?"

"Exactly!" he exclaimed. "Don't worry, it only activates in ze winter, and it won't get too hot in ze summer. It's designed to keep you warm when it's cold outside. And if you make a deposit, you get one for free. Quite the practical gift, wouldn't you agree?"

I thought for a moment before nodding. "Yeah, that does sound pretty useful."

He gave me a knowing smile. "Zat's why I always recommend it. Plus, it's always nice to have something special in your pocket."

I couldn't help but laugh. "Alright, Dr. Wagner, maybe I'll look into it."

He gave a satisfied nod. "Good choice. You won't regret it."

Zalthorion's Point of View

I watched as Dr. Wagner and Nyxia walked off, their voices carrying in the distance, a strange camaraderie between them. Nyxia seemed completely unfazed, despite having survived an attack that would have broken most. His composure was unsettling; it was as if the very nature of the event didn't touch him. I could sense something more in him—something beyond the surface. But for now, there were more pressing matters to attend to.

With a slight sigh, I turned away, opening a rift with a wave of my hand. Stepping through, I emerged into the heart of the council chamber. The air hummed with the quiet weight of anticipation. As I entered, the murmurs of my council members halted instantly. Every gaze was upon me, but I didn't hesitate.

"Lord Veilstryx," one of the council members addressed me with respect, his voice carrying an edge of concern. "May I ask, why have we convened?"

I glanced around the room before answering, my voice calm and steady, though there was an undeniable undercurrent of urgency in it. "Xytheron Null is back."

The words dropped like stones into a still lake, sending ripples of disbelief and murmurs cascading through the chamber. Xytheron's name alone held weight, and the very mention of his return stirred a palpable fear among the council. But they didn't have the luxury of time for panic.

Another member, an older figure with sharp features, spoke up with a hushed tone. "Should we inform the Destroyers?"

I considered the suggestion carefully. The Destroyers were unpredictable and powerful, and while they had their purpose in the multiverse, bringing them into this situation could disrupt everything we had worked for. The balance was delicate, too fragile to shatter with reckless action.

"No," I answered firmly, the gravity of my words cutting through the room. "We are on the brink of securing peace with the Destroyers. If they learn that Xytheron has returned, the one leverage we have to defend against his forces would be lost. We must keep this under wraps for now."

A silence settled over the room, but it didn't last long before a voice cut through the tension a voice tinged with suspicion.

"What about Nyxia?" one council member asked, his eyes narrowing. "A failed experiment, just reappearing like that. Not one as powerful as Nyxia, surely?"

The mention of Nyxia, especially in such a context, was enough to draw an intense reaction from the council. But the fear wasn't just about his power; it was the question of what Nyxia represented the living consequence of a long-forgotten experiment. The fact that he had resurfaced now, at this critical juncture, only complicated matters further.

"He is the reason many of the Destroyers are weakened," I replied, my voice cold, as though the thought alone chilled me. "Nyxia's existence was no mere accident. The forces that were unleashed in the failed experiment had far-reaching effects. They disrupted the balance of power on a grand scale, weakening the Destroyers in ways no one fully understands. And now, his return... It's not just a complication. It's a potential catastrophe."

Another murmur swept through the room. This time, the unease was undeniable. The council was beginning to understand the complexity of the situation.

"Nyxia," I continued, "may not be the immediate threat some believe him to be. But his role in this is far more intricate than anyone realizes. We need to tread carefully with him, just as we must with Xytheron. Both are forces capable of reshaping the multiverse in ways we cannot predict."

As I finished speaking, the room fell into a contemplative silence. Each council member was digesting the weight of my words, and I could sense their minds racing to find solutions. But there would be no easy answer to this crisis. The return of Xytheron and the unexpected reemergence of Nyxia was only the beginning of a new chapter that threatened to rewrite everything we knew about power, balance, and survival.

For now, all we could do was prepare.

Once the meeting concluded, I returned to my quarters, exhaling a slow, weary sigh. The weight of the council's deliberations still lingered in my mind, but for now, I allowed myself a brief respite. Stepping over to the polished cabinet, I retrieved a bottle of my finest wine Eldorian Nightblood, Vintage 874, a deep crimson elixir aged in voidstone casks, said to carry the whispers of the stars themselves.

Pouring the dark liquid into a crystal glass, I watched as it swirled with an almost hypnotic shimmer, the faintest glow lingering at its surface. Taking a slow sip, I savored its rich, complex notes hints of blackthorn berries, embers of duskwood, and an aftertaste that lingered like a fading dream.

With a flick of my fingers, I manipulated the very fabric of my attire, shifting it into a sleeveless shirt. The cool air of my chambers brushed against my skin, revealing something I rarely acknowledged the mark on my arm.

There, etched in stark contrast against my flesh, was a tattoo. 15650.

A number that carried more weight than any title or name. A reminder of a past that refused to fade. A brand that had followed me across lifetimes, across realities.

I exhaled sharply, setting my glass down with a quiet clink.

I turned, my gaze settling on the massive bookshelf that lined the far wall of my quarters. Without hesitation, I reached for a specific tome its spine worn, its cover adorned with faded runes. The moment I pulled it free, the entire bookshelf shifted, folding inward with the precision of intricate origami. What remained was not a simple wall, but a hidden compartment one that housed something far older than the city itself.

Resting in the alcove was a device unlike any other. An Obelisk Core.

Ancient in design, yet more advanced than even the most cutting-edge technology of Evolto City, the core pulsed with a soft, rhythmic glow an eerie interplay of shifting symbols and patterns that no known language could translate. Smooth black metal, infused with fragments of the Divide itself, gave it an almost liquid appearance, as if reality warped ever so slightly around it. Despite its age, it remained pristine, untouched by time, humming with a power beyond comprehension.

This was no mere relic. It was something older than the multiverse itself. A creation of a forgotten era, of hands that no longer existed. And yet, it still functioned. Still waited.

I opened the book in my hand, revealing a hidden compartment within its pages. From it, I retrieved a thin, flat rectangular device a Celestial Archive Drive. Its surface was covered in delicate etchings, shifting and rearranging like constellations moving across the void. With practiced ease, I inserted it into the Obelisk Core.

A faint hum filled the room. Then, a song began to play.

The melody was haunting, its notes stretching across time itself. It was alien to all but me a song from a past that no longer existed. A voice long lost, a language that had no translation, carried by an ethereal choir. It wasn't just music; it was history. A memory woven into sound, something that even time could not erase.

I sat back, swirling the dark wine in my glass as the music filled the silence of my chambers. Each note stirred something deep within me, a longing for a time now beyond reach. A world that had once been mine. A story that only I still remembered.

I closed my eyes, letting the song carry me back.

Back to a time before I was Lord Veilstryx. Before Evolto City. Before the multiverse itself had been shaped into what it was now.

A time when I was just Zalthorion.

Dr. Wagner's Point of View

I watched as Nyxia stepped out of the bank, holding his newly issued card and the magma wallet, the fiery veins of molten metal pulsing faintly in his hand. A marvel of Metallurge craftsmanship, truly.

"Vell, at least now you von't be carrying around a mountain of coins like some wandering merchant from ze Dark Ages," I quipped, adjusting my coat as we resumed our exploration through the bustling streets of Evolto City.

More like Nyxia was exploring soaking in every sight, every towering structure, every impossible wonder while I simply guided. He was an outsider, after all, still adjusting to the sheer absurdity of this place.

And Evolto City was nothing if not absurd.

As we weaved through the streets, our path was suddenly obstructed by a Titan. Not just any Titan, though—Unit-00: Musashi.

A glitch in its system had left it convinced it was a samurai from the Edo period, and over time, the city had just… accepted it. Even its towering, armored form had shifted over the years, reshaping into something resembling a colossal ronin traditional plates of metal armor, a waraji-clad stance, and a single, oversized katana strapped across its back.

Its optics flickered for a moment as it processed us before lowering its head in a formal bow.

"Wagner-dono ." Its deep, digitized voice carried an almost serene tone. "The wind whispers of change. Do you walk the path of peace or war this day?"

I rubbed my temple. "I am simply taking him to a bar."

Musashi gave a slow nod, the motion almost meditative.

"Then may your cup overflow with wisdom, and your blade remain sheathed."

After a few more minutes of conversation—mostly Musashi rambling about the impermanence of existence and the artistry of battle I finally managed to pry Nyxia away, guiding him further into the city.

Eventually, we arrived at our destination.

My favorite bar.

The neon lights above the entrance flickered, casting a warm glow over the streets. Unlike most establishments in the city, this place was old-school dimly lit, filled with the scent of aged whiskey and quiet conversations. A sanctuary for those who didn't want the noise of the multiverse pressing in on them.

I turned to Nyxia, a grin tugging at the corner of my lips.

"Velcome to The Rusted Halo. Best drinks in ze city. Try not to get into a fight, ja?"

As I stepped inside, the familiar warmth of The Rusted Halo wrapped around me. The clinking of glass, the gentle hum of conversation, the easy laughter exchanged between patrons it was a welcome reprieve. In a city that teetered on the edge of the unimaginable, it was moments like these that reminded me of the simple joys still worth cherishing.

The bar's owner stood behind the counter, as always, as though the space would collapse without his presence. He was a fixture, like the walls themselves.

I leaned in, offering a smirk. "Zwei drinks. Make it a Starforged Eclipse."

The bartender, accustomed to my usual request, nodded without a word. His hands were practiced, reaching for the obsidian bottle behind him. Starforged Eclipse a blend of aged void-rum, nebula essence, and a trace of eldritch honey. A drink not for the faint of heart. When it hit the glass, the dark liquid shimmered like the dying embers of a once-great star, the deep violet of the drink twisting with veins of iridescent silver.

A perfect sip for those who enjoyed both beauty and danger.

The bartender slid the glasses toward me, and I handed one to Nyxia. "Drink up, ja? Zis one's a treasure."

We sat, letting the warmth of the drink settle, sipping slowly. For a moment, it was just the two of us good conversation, the comfort of being around people who didn't demand anything from you.

Then, the door flew open.

The moment it happened, the room's energy shifted.

Virdarath had arrived.

Zalthorion's personal agent. And my friend.

But not always my friend.

A quick glance at his eyes told me what I needed to know. There was no glimmer in his gaze, no playful chaos that usually lurked there. Instead, his eyes were icy silver cold, sharp, emotionless.

His usual carefree, bubbly persona was gone. Every movement was deliberate, calculated, and precise. The room seemed to shift around him, adjusting to the weight of his presence. It wasn't just the change in his demeanor. There was something else, a kind of presence that clung to him when his cold side was in control.

A patron called out his name.

"Virdarath!" They greeted, raising a glass in friendly recognition.

He nodded, his response curt, sharp. "Greetings." His voice was as cold as his stare.

There was no warmth in him now. No humor. Just focus.

He approached us with his calculated steps, and when he reached the table, he sat down smoothly.

For a moment, there was silence, before I broke it.

"How are you doing?" I asked, tone casual.

In the blink of an eye, the shift happened. Virdarath's demeanor changed his icy exterior melted into a more familiar warmth. The cold silver in his eyes was replaced with the glimmer of a playful, chaotic spirit.

He grinned, leaning back in his chair, full of energy. "I'm fine, buddy! Been keeping things interesting, you know?"

His bubbly personality was back, like flipping a switch. It was uncanny how quickly he could go from one extreme to the other. But that's Virdarath for you unpredictable, volatile, and always keeping you on your toes.

We drank for hours, the conversation flowing as freely as the Starforged Eclipse. With every passing minute, the world outside the bar seemed to fade away, leaving only the three of us Nyxia, Virdarath, and myself lost in endless talk. The topics ranged from the absurd to the profound, and everything in between.

Nyxia, with his ever-curious mind, would ask questions about the mechanics of reality, about the nature of power, and what it truly meant to be a force in this vast multiverse. Virdarath, in his bubbly mood, would provide chaotic but insightful answers, weaving together strange tales of his missions, and then, without warning, shift to a more somber and calculated tone, delving into the darker sides of our existence.

I found myself caught between their worlds Nyxia's sharp curiosity, Virdarath's unpredictable nature, and my own thoughts, constantly at war with my past and my future. Yet, in those moments, the weight of it all seemed lighter. A brief respite from the chaos I carried with me.

As the drinks emptied and new ones arrived, the hours became a blur. Laughter echoed through the bar as stories grew taller, and each shared moment felt like an anchor, tethering us to something simple, something we could hold on to. The outside world, with its wars and endless battles, seemed distant, irrelevant in the face of this fleeting peace.

Even the bartender, usually a silent observer, cracked a smile as we continued, recognizing the bond forming between us three individuals who, despite the multiverse's vastness and its dangers, had found something that kept us grounded.

The clock had long since passed midnight, but none of us cared. Time, for once, could wait.

I stumbled out of the bar, utterly drunk, my legs barely able to hold me up. Virdarath and Nyxia, ever the reliable pair, had to practically carry me, one on each side, as I swayed from side to side with every step. My speech was slurred, and my thoughts were a jumbled mess, like a broken kaleidoscope that refused to settle into something coherent.

"Did you guys know," I began, trying to form a thought that would make sense but failing miserably, "the universe... it's like a giant... mango." I hiccupped loudly, much to my own amusement. "And every time you take a bite, it's a new reality. Or maybe... a new dimension?"

Nyxia gave me a sideways glance, clearly not sure how to respond. Virdarath, in his usual calm way, let out a small chuckle. "You're not making sense, my friend," he said, his tone both amused and patient.

But I wasn't listening. My mind kept racing. "And you know what I think? I think... we're all just... one big accident. Yeah. Like... like a really bad idea that someone thought was funny."

Virdarath shifted me slightly, adjusting his grip on my arm as he led the way. "I think that's a new level of profound, even for you."

I ignored him and continued rambling, my words growing more nonsensical by the second. "I've seen the end, you know? The end of everything. It's just... a giant fish tank. And we're the fish. The fish are us. And I'm... a really big fish."

Nyxia let out a light snort. "Are you sure it's just the wine talking?"

I waved him off. "No, no. It's deeper than that. It's... it's like... dream logic, you know? There's something... something in the air, man."

We reached my place of work eventually, though the journey felt like it lasted a lifetime. Through blurry vision and drunken haze, I looked up at the familiar building, an odd sense of pride mixing with my state of inebriation.

"Look at that," I slurred, pointing dramatically at the entrance, "I've worked here. And I'm so... good at it." I hiccupped again, feeling like I was on top of the world, despite not knowing what I was even talking about anymore.

Nyxia shot Vidarath a glance as if to ask, Is he always like this? Vidarath simply shook his head. "Sometimes worse. But we'll get him inside before he falls over and sleeps in the street."

I tried to say something else, but instead of words, a long, drawn-out yawn escaped me, and I stumbled forward, nearly tripping over my own feet. Luckily, Virdarath caught me, steadying me with a grip I could barely appreciate.

The night was far from over, but for now, my world was a swirl of fading thoughts, laughter, and the comforting presence of two of the strangest companions I could ask for.

Nyxia's Point of View

After carefully easing Dr. Wagner into bed, both Virdarath and I stood over him, watching as his slumber took over. His body lay still, but his mouth was still moving, mumbling incoherently. I couldn't help but notice the stark difference in the tone of his sleep-talk, compared to the drunk ramblings he usually spouted when conscious.

His voice was filled with sorrow, a sharp contrast to the usual light-hearted nonsense. "Elisabeth... I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Please forgive me…"

The words came out quietly, yet with such weight, it almost felt like an echo from another life. There was no trace of the doctor's usual playful demeanor. This wasn't the man who had spent the night laughing and talking about nonsense. This was someone else entirely, someone deeply hurt, lost in a pain long buried.

I turned to Virdarath, the silence between us growing thick with the gravity of the moment. "Does this always happen?" I asked, my voice low.

Virdarath didn't immediately respond. Instead, he stood there, eyes fixed on the sleeping doctor, his expression unreadable. Finally, he sighed, the cold, emotionless air around him shifting slightly. "Yes, this always happens. When he's asleep, he's not the same. The mask slips... and the past, all that he's been carrying, it comes through."

I studied Virdarath, his words heavier than they seemed. "But you never asked who she is?" I prompted, trying to pry, even if just a little.

Virdarath shook his head slowly, his eyes softening as he looked back at Dr. Wagner. "No. I never asked. It's not my place to. Maybe it's a daughter, a wife, a friend... I don't know. I've never pried into his past. It's... personal. And I respect that."

There was a quiet reverence in his tone that spoke volumes. Whatever this Elisabeth represented to Dr. Wagner, it was a wound he carried with him, one too deep for even his closest allies to fully understand.

I stood there for a moment, pondering the strange, painful glimpse I'd just witnessed into the doctor's past. I wondered just how much of that past shaped the man who stood before us, who laughed and drank and joked in his waking hours to mask the burden he carried.

But that was a question for another time.

For now, the only thing I could do was help ensure he got the rest he needed. And maybe, just maybe, help him one day face what haunted him.

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Hello dear readers I hope you enjoyed reading this story! If you have any questions or thoughts, feel free to share them in the comments I'd be happy to answer and discuss them with you.