Silence was not merely the absence of sound. It was an entity, heavy and dense, swallowing every vibration.
Around him stretched an ocean of dead stars as far as the eye could see: shattered planets drifting like carcasses, split moons leaking trails of silver dust, floating citadels frozen in the void, deprived of light for eons. Space itself seemed sick, streaked with crimson cracks where a dying glow still pulsed.
He walked through this cosmic graveyard, a lone silhouette in the infinite. With every step, the ground—if it could still be called that—fractured beneath his feet, releasing glimmers of light that instantly faded into the surrounding darkness.
No breath of wind. No whisper. Nothing but the muffled echo of his own presence.
His hand rose, palm open before him. He did not cry out, nor make any grand gesture. Only a movement—sharp, precise—like an artist drawing the final line on an already perfect canvas.
The universe before him split with an unreal screech, a scar of pure light widening to reveal what no mortal eye should ever have beheld.
Beyond the rift, a celestial kingdom unfolded.
Colossal mountains floated in the air, their flanks covered in crystal forests glittering like billions of miniature blades. Rivers of light coursed through the sky, forming liquid arches that spilled into golden waterfalls feeding suspended lakes.
The air seemed saturated with invisible perfumes—heavy, sweet, carrying memories that were not his own. Each breath felt like drinking the raw beauty of this world.
He gazed at the vision in silence, his hard eyes reflecting the shifting gleams of the landscape. Then, in a whisper barely louder than the nonexistent wind, he spoke:
— I'm here.
His fingers closed around the hilt at his hip, as if to confirm this truth to the blade itself. A breath passed over his lips.
— The summit.
And in that voice, there was no jubilation, no triumph. Only the weight of centuries of battle, the weariness of a journey that no longer had a destination. For in this perfect world… there was no one. No cry, no laughter, no human shadow. Only him, facing eternity.
~~
The celestial kingdom had not changed. The mountains still floated, the crystal forests still shimmered with their unreal glow, the rivers of light continued their eternal fall… but all seemed frozen. The air, once rich with sweet scents, had lost its warmth. The colors looked faded, as if time itself had grown tired of this perfection and stopped feeding it.
At the summit of a suspended plateau stood a colossal throne, carved from the petrified body of a dragon whose once-black scales now glimmered a dull grey. The beast's fangs formed the armrests, its frozen wings spread behind the seat like a mineral cloak.
He sat there. Back straight, gaze lost on an unchanging horizon. Centuries had slid over him like rain on an oiled blade. His face had not changed. His eyes, however, bore the mark of a fatigue measured not in years, but in worlds crossed.
— All of this… he murmured, his voice low as a breath.
His fingers caressed the hilt of his sword, absently.
— All of this was to protect you.
Faces came back to him. Some laughing, others crying. Hands clasped around his, shouts of joy, promises made on battlefields. He had kept every one. But time, relentless, had swept away everything he had sworn to protect. He had won every war… and lost every person.
— And now… I am alone, at the top of the world.
He remained still for a few moments, listening to the silence. Then he rose. The metallic echo of his blade rang against the throne, a clear sound in this frozen world.
He descended the steps of the plateau. His boots struck the stone like a death knell.
— Then I will search, he said.
The words hung in the air, almost alive.
— For something… still worth raising a sword for.
Before him stretched an endless corridor, paved with floating fragments. Each shard held a memory: a stolen kiss in the heat of a camp, a bare chest glimpsed beneath a tent flap, laughter around a fire, the taste of blood mingled with wine after victory. These images streamed past him, ghosts of a life where human warmth still existed.
He walked on without looking back, leaving behind the stone throne and the frozen kingdom. The void awaited him.
~~
After years of wandering, the void rippled like wrinkled silk. Shadows began to undulate around him, curling and uncurling as if space itself were breathing. Then they parted.
She appeared.
Tall, with a commanding bearing, a figure built to captivate an entire kingdom with a single step.
Her hips swayed with the calculated slowness of a dancer aware of every gaze upon her. A crimson dress, slit to mid-thigh, followed her movements, occasionally revealing the perfect curve of a leg sheathed in dark stockings.
The bodice, tight to the point of seeming sewn into her skin, embraced every contour of her full breasts, lifting them in a frame of fabric that hinted rather than showed the forbidden.
Her black hair fell like an obsidian cascade, each strand gleaming, as though reflecting some invisible light.
A scent, almost tangible, drifted to him—warm, spiced, touched with a sweetness that heated his skin like an intimate caress. Her eyes, a liquid red, shone with an intensity equal parts promise and threat.
She stopped a few steps away, her lips curving into a faint smile.
— …Soren.
The name, spoken without title or ornament, cracked in the air like a slap of intimacy. His fingers tightened for an instant on the hilt of his sword.
— You know me.
— I've been watching you for a long time. Her voice slid like velvet over a blade.
— I am the Goddess of Lust.
She took a step forward, the slit in her dress opening just enough to reveal the swell of her thigh.
— You are the one who never yielded. Not once. Not to flesh, not to gold, not to power for its own sake. You gave everything you had to others… and ended up alone.
He did not answer. In a flash, his arm rose. The sword sang through the air and her body was cleaved clean from shoulder to hip.
She did not fall. The two halves rejoined with the slow sensuality of fabric stitching itself back together, and when she was whole again, she still smiled—amused, as if by an insolent child.
— I knew you would try.
He slid a foot back, the blade angled slightly toward the ground, ready to strike again. His eyes had hardened, but he did not speak.
She raised her hands in a disarming gesture.
— Give me two minutes. Just two. If you refuse, you'll regret it… for the next millennia.
The silence between them was charged, like the air before lightning.
He lowered his sword with measured precision, the tip barely grazing the ground. His eyes stayed locked on her, wary.
— Show me.
A slow smile bloomed on her lips, as if she were already savoring her victory. She lifted her hand and made a smooth, almost dancing motion. The air rippled again, but this time the tear did not reveal the void: a wave of warmth and light burst forth, wrapping his senses in a perfume heavy with sugar and musk.
The portal opened onto a palace of gold, its walls set with precious stones casting a thousand glimmers on the silk sheets strewn across the floor.
At the center, an orgiastic feast unfolded. Women with sculpted bodies and glistening skin danced naked or nearly so, their hips tracing languid arcs, their hands brushing over the thighs and stomachs of men lying in drunken bliss. Laughter—deep, muffled—rolled between the columns like forbidden music.
Beyond, marble baths opened beneath arches carved from the stone itself. The water, perfumed and hot, steamed in the air. Female figures played there, splashing golden droplets under the dimmed light. Some bent to adjust their hair, revealing full, firm breasts with beads of water sliding slowly down to the hollow of their waists. The softer laughter here seemed an invitation to plunge in.
Endless tables sagged beneath rare dishes: bloody meats smelling of woodsmoke, plump fruits bursting under the teeth, ruby wines spilling into chased goblets. Between each dish, open chests overflowed with gold coins, glittering necklaces, stones of hypnotic brilliance.
— A life without want, she said. I'll have you reborn in a young, strong, desired body. A wealthy family, loyal friends… and no sword to raise.
In the vision, one beauty stepped out from the group. Tall, skin sun-warmed, her black hair fell in a cascade over bare shoulders. Her hips swayed as she approached, and her gaze slid slowly over the man. Reaching him, she passed her tongue over her lips in a deliberately slow gesture before resting her hand on his chest. The heat of her fingers seemed to bridge the gap between illusion and reality.
Then the scene dissolved, as if blown away by a cold wind.
— Everything you refused in your first life… you'll be able to taste it, the goddess murmured, her voice lower now, almost intimate.
The scent of the portal still hung in the air between them.
— What do you want in exchange? he asked, voice low but sharp.
Her smile widened, a glint of mischief in her red eyes.
— One thing. An authority… over the Sword.
A chill colder than the void passed between them. He understood instantly.
— That's why you could regenerate.
She tilted her head, her dark hair sliding over her shoulder like a stream of ink.
— Exactly. Even with my power, no god, no demon, no titan has ever been able to kill me. Not once. You were the first… who could erase my essence from this world, had you finished that strike.
Her lips shaped those last words with an almost sensual accent, as though savoring their taste.
— And you? he asked after a silence. Don't you get bored here?
She turned her gaze away for a moment, as if hiding a truth she didn't wish to admit. Her fingers traced the line of her hip, brushing the slit fabric of her dress.
— Yes.
— Then come with me.
A sad smile, almost tender, touched her face.
— Impossible. I'm bound to remain here… for eternity.
He stepped closer, his eyes locked on hers.
— I've broken the laws of realms. I've faced and defeated heroes, demons, gods, titans, and even entire worlds. I've cut the chains holding the impossible.
His hand closed on his sword's hilt, the blade tilting in a slow, calculated motion.
— Even eternity… has a flaw.
The laugh she let out was anything but innocent. It was joy mixed with a shiver of excitement—the kind of laugh that promised as much pleasure as danger. Her red eyes gleamed with a new light, and her scent seemed to thicken, warmer, more enveloping.
— You are… dangerous, Soren, she murmured. And I love that.
She studied him for a long moment, as if trying to decipher something in his eyes. Then her lips curved into a slow smile, laden with promises no mortal could hear without feeling his heart race.
— Very well, she said at last. In exchange… I'll grant you another authority. The Authority of Lust.
As she spoke these words, the air around them seemed to grow warmer. An invisible pulse passed between them, like a shared heartbeat. Thin crimson lines, fine as silk threads, drew themselves in the air, coiling around her wrist before sliding to his. The heat they carried was not painful… but carnal, intimate, almost intrusive.
He felt his body react despite himself, as though the energy were threading its way beneath his skin.
— Let's go, she murmured.
In a flash, his blade rose and cut through the air in a perfect arc. The strike wasn't aimed at her—it was aimed at space itself, slicing through the fabric of this frozen world.
Reality shattered into shards of light and darkness. The ground gave way beneath their feet, and they fell together into a whirlpool where white fragments burned into deep red, and every shadow seemed to hide a hand, a hip, a breath.
The ground vanished, and they plummeted together into a vortex where light and darkness tangled like two bodies entwined. White sparks flared into crimson, and every swirl of black seemed to hide a touch, a curve, a breath.
She leaned toward him, so close her lips almost brushed his ear.
— Don't expect gifts… even in the mortal world. We will meet again, and on that day… I will be your enemy.
Their hands sought each other in the chaos, brushed, almost clasped. Their bodies were already dissolving in the tide of light. He looked at her once more, imprinting every detail in his memory.
Just before complete darkness engulfed them, her voice rang clear and burning, as if etched into his mind:
— Try to dominate me… if you dare.
And the world disappeared.