2020*
Giselle, a mother of two, strolled leisurely toward the daycare to pick up her little ones. The day had turned unusually chilly, and she huddled into her scarf, trying to ward off the cold.
At the entrance, the familiar guard, Uncle Lyosha, greeted her.
"Hey, Uncle Lyosha! How's it going?" Giselle asked with a smile.
"Same as always," he replied cheerfully, adjusting his cap. "Watching over our little darlings, heh-heh." He reeked distinctly of booze. *Hit the bottle again,* Giselle thought with mild annoyance.
She moved on and immediately spotted her children, engrossed in play with the other kids in the corner of the playground.
"Mom's here!" they cried joyfully, rushing toward her.
"Hey, my sweeties!" Giselle beamed, opening her arms wide and pulling them into a tight hug, feeling their familiar warmth.
But in that very moment, something unimaginable happened.
Right before her eyes, a black screen appeared. Utterly flat, frameless, it hovered calmly in the air. Giselle instinctively glanced at her children—and froze. Identical mysterious black rectangles floated beside each of her kids, just an arm's length away. She spun around—screens hung near every person in the yard: teachers, children, caregivers. The scene was so surreal it didn't even spark fear. And it was that very absence of panic that terrified Giselle most. *Why aren't I scared?* the thought flashed through her mind.
Suddenly, she caught a strange, sweetish scent wafting from the screens. It was unfamiliar and... unnatural. Her thoughts were interrupted by her daughter's thin voice:
"Mom, what's that?" The girl stared at the screen with wide eyes, more curious than afraid.
Giselle looked again at the black rectangle floating before her. It was completely impenetrable, like a door to nowhere.
"I don't know, sweetie," she whispered, a chill racing down her spine despite the scarf. "I just don't know."
**Alternate Universe: The Tsarevnas**
The first rays of sunlight filtered through the stained-glass window of the dormitory. Varya jolted awake. Today's exam—Shadow Tactics with Koschei the Deathless himself—promised nothing but trouble, and she couldn't stand trouble. She stretched, her knuckles cracking, and her gaze fell on her roommates: Sonya was still snoring softly into her pillow, while Vasilisa, ever the model student, stood at the mirror, pinning the last hairpin into her impeccable updo.
"Elena, you ready?" Varya whispered, pulling on her student tunic. "Not that I'm panicking, but... yeah, I'm panicking."
Elena, seated at the desk and skimming her textbook one last time, turned around.
"I think so. Crammed it all. What about you, Varenka? Up all night counting stars instead of studying again?"
Varya blushed.
"Well, you know... the stars were extra pretty. Please, Lena, let me peek! Vasilisa'd never let me copy."
Elena sighed.
"Fine. But next time—notes under your pillow! Swear it?"
"Swear on everything."
By the time Sonya finally woke and scrambled to get ready, the girls had gathered and stepped into the Academy's cool corridor. Koschei's classroom was silent. Varya slipped deftly into the desk beside Elena, already mentally plotting her cheating strategy.
The door flew open. Koschei the Deathless entered.
"Well, girls," his voice was low and even, "ready to prove your heads are good for more than cornflower wreaths? Let's begin the Shadow Tactics exam."
A chorus of girlish voices—from timid to confident—replied: "Yes, Magister Koschei!"
And in that instant, space shuddered.
Black screens materialized right before each student's face, and then before Koschei himself. Utterly flat, without a single notch or reflection, they hung in the air as if carved from the void itself. Varya gasped and recoiled toward Elena, who froze, eyes wide. Vasilisa straightened, assuming it was part of the exam.
"W-what is that?" Varya whispered.
Koschei the Deathless, who had witnessed centuries of wonders, froze for a moment. His slender fingers clenched involuntarily. No plans, no curricula had anticipated this. But on his usually impassive face flickered something beyond mere astonishment. From the screens—these ghostly gates to nothingness—wafted a faint but distinct scent... vanilla? Or honey? Something warm, childlike, achingly familiar. A sharp, unexpected wave of nostalgia washed over him, making him forget the classroom for an instant. But his will snapped him back.
"Stay calm," he said. He didn't lie. "This... isn't part of the exam. I don't know what this is, girls. Not yet." His gaze scanned the screens, seeking any clue—a magical signature, the slightest flaw in their perfect blackness.
The door burst open again. Two figures stood there: Kot Bayun, massive and striped, and Marlen, the slender secretary—black screens hovered before them too, just like everyone in the room.
"Koschei?" Marlen pointed at her screen. "You... see it too?"
Kot Bayun said nothing. He simply stared with feline impassivity at the black rectangle before his nose, as if trying to sniff out its secret.
Koschei slowly shifted his gaze from one screen to the next. And through the soul-chilling dread, from those black gates wafted again that sweet, tantalizing, dangerous aroma of forgotten bliss. Something unimaginable.
**The Multiverse**
It arrived silently, without warning, in a moment stretched into eternity.
In countless pockets of reality, across myriads of existences, they materialized. Black screens of absolute void. They simply *were*. Motionless, indestructible, ignoring any attempt at interaction: magical flares fizzled, superweapon beams scattered, divine claws slid across the smooth, cold non-surface. They hovered serenely at arm's length—or its equivalent—from every sentient being everywhere.
It wasn't sight, wasn't sound. It was a *sensation*, an undeniable presence of the Other. As if space itself had developed a blind spot, perpetually lurking at the edge of perception, forcing heads, tentacles, sensor clusters to turn.
And there was the scent. Not an aroma in the familiar sense. It was a scent-memory, a scent-feeling, a scent-emotion. Sweetness. Not cloying, but deep, warm, nostalgic. The scent of a newborn star's first breath, of dust on forgotten pages in a great library, of a home in a dimension abandoned eons ago, of pure, inexplicable bliss. It streamed from those silent black screens, enveloping the mind.
And it touched *all*.
**Robots and androids:** Their logical matrices froze in paradox-processing loops. They didn't "smell" it, but registered a sensor anomaly paired with a surge in emotional simulators—a strange, illogical pattern identified as... *beautiful*. Something in their code resonated with this unseen sweetness, causing priority glitches, forcing processors to waste resources analyzing the inexplicable "feeling."
**Demons:** Beings forged in the grinding of cursed worlds felt not fear, but a yearning ache for something bright, long lost or never known. The sweetness burned them like holy water, but without pain—with tender agony.
**Aliens:** Biological, energetic, crystalline—their myriad perceptions united in one thing: they registered the phenomenon. Unknown, unclassifiable. Their science, philosophy, religion had no answers. The sweetness brought inexplicable calm or profound dread.
**Angels:** Messengers of harmony and their creators' will sensed dissonance. The black screens weren't evil, nor were they light. They were... *other*. The sweetness recalled the purity of primordial Eden, yet with a bitter tang of the unknown, shaking their faith in the order of all things.
From the ocean depths of forgotten planets to the shining peaks of celestial cities, from quantum loops of chrononauts to the vast voids between galactic filaments—the same silent question, born in billions of minds, echoed through every language, code, and telepathic stream:
*What is this?*
*Where from?*
*Why?*
**The Multiverse: The Screens**
From the depths of the black screens, a Voice was born.
It crashed upon the multiverse not through ears, but souls. It wasn't mere sound—it was Harmony given word. It pierced dimensions. It was a lullaby for newborn stars and the final chord for dying galaxies. "Beautiful" was too small a word. It was the perfect embodiment of the very concept of "Beauty."
—"Greetings!"—it rang out.
And in that same instant, upon the impenetrable surfaces of countless black screens, the Unearthly began to materialize.
First—like a nebula of desires. Then—like a cluster of pure light. And finally, a Figure took shape.
But not one figure. It was a Kaleidoscopic Wonder. Every sentient being—from sentient moss to the Ancients drifting between worlds—saw in it their own secret Embodiment of Beauty and Desire. For a demon, the image of a lost paradise and forbidden purity. For an angel, a secret temptation and forgotten passion. For a robot, the ideal algorithm of harmony, radiating warmth. For an alien from ocean depths, a shining form calling to light. She was everything to everyone: desired lover, divine mother, perfect creation, unattainable dream. She was the living symbol of Desire's very Essence, its origin and ultimate goal, manifested simultaneously across all realities.
—"Greetings, my dear ones,"—the Voice repeated, laced with notes of unearthly, playful tenderness that shook the foundations of worlds. And then, like a universal secret shared only with the closest, came a light, feather-soft utterance that stunned to the core: —"...hee-hee!"
This giggle, tender and commanding at once, scattered across realities. The Goddess of Love and Desire of the Multiverse had revealed herself.
**Alternate Universe: Olympus, Council Hall**
The golden light seemed dim before the absolute blackness of screens frozen before each divine throne. The air in the Council Hall was thick with nostalgia—sweet, tart like aged wine. It streamed from the mute screens, awakening long-dormant memories in immortal souls.
The gods felt it, but their strong will resisted the force. Zeus, gripping his lightning bolt, sank deeper into his throne—his gaze, full of stormy power, tried to cleave the enchantment. Athena, goddess of wisdom, waged an internal dialogue. Even Dionysus, lord of ecstasy, watched with uncharacteristic sobriety, feeling the alien sweetness crowding his own gifts. They resisted, if only partially, this all-consuming call of the past.
But Aphrodite—fell.
Captive to unearthly rapture. Her throne of pink marble and pearls was forgotten. The entire world narrowed to the black screen and *Her*.
In the bottomless depths materialized the Goddess of Love and Desire of the Multiverse. And Aphrodite, herself the embodiment of passion, drowned.
"How... inexpressibly... beautiful..." her whisper, usually commanding, trembled.
Thousands of questions, burning and sweet, pierced her divine essence:
*Who is She? Not a rival, but... the Source? Perfection? The Absolute before which she, the Cyprian, is but a pale reflection?*
*Why is She here? Has She come to grant bliss?*
*What is She doing? Is She looking at me specifically? That gaze, full of universal tenderness and promise of incomprehensible pleasures...*
And then—illumination struck. She had fallen in love. Madly, like a mortal girl, but with a force capable of shaking worlds' foundations.
In *Her*. In the Goddess of Desire herself.
Her Voice, which had sounded earlier—it still rang in every cell of Aphrodite's being.
Her Body, revealed in the screen—not just form, but the very essence of Attraction, the ideal Aphrodite had only glimpsed in the hearts of mortals and gods. Every line, every glimmer of energy was perfection that made one tremble.
Her Essence—an abyss of passion and tenderness, the primordial force of Desire, unbound by Olympus's obligations.
It was so beautiful it hurt. Hurt from awareness of her own limitations. Hurt from the impossibility of touch. Hurt from all-consuming, sacred thirst.
In the Hall where gods battled nostalgia, Aphrodite burned as a living torch of new, universal love, and this flame was dangerously beautiful.
**Alternate Universe: One Piece**
*The Thousand Sunny*
The black screens materialized on deck suddenly. Luffy's crew reacted characteristically.
"Shishishi! Cool stuff!" Luffy reached for the nearest screen, but his hand passed through the blackness. "Oops, can't grab it!"
"Yo-ho-ho! Mysterious..." Brook carefully tapped his knuckles against his screen's surface, finding no echo.
"Nami-swaaan... Is this dangerous?" Nami pressed close to Robin, who only smiled enigmatically.
"Franky! Super-weird gadgets! Wonder what they're made of?"
The screens didn't scare them. But everyone, without exception, sensed that same sweet aroma wafting from the screens. Not love, not passion—but something warm, deep, like a bright memory. For each—their own.
Then the screens came alive.
She appeared. The Goddess of Love and Desire of the Multiverse. Her beauty wasn't just a sight—it was a physical sensation. The crew gasped. Luffy froze with his mouth agape. Robin covered her lips with her hand. Nami cried out.
And then came the characteristic sound: *Pshhhhhh!*
"S-S-S-S-S-S-SANJI!!!" Chopper squealed, pointing with his hoof.
The cook stood, head thrown back, face crimson as a boiled lobster. From his nose shot two powerful scarlet fountains, flooding the deck and his pristine white suit. Eyes rolled back, knees buckled.
"DON'T DIE, SANJI!" Chopper bellowed, racing toward him with the first aid kit. He acted lightning-fast: cotton swab, then injection of a powerful sedative and hemostatic. "Sleep! Stop losing blood, you lovesick fool!"
Sanji, mumbling something incoherent about "angel... paradise... legs..." collapsed into Chopper's arms.
The little reindeer sighed heavily, wiping his hoof on the railing. His gaze involuntarily slid to the screen where the Goddess hovered. And then Chopper felt something strange. Not a hint of anger at Sanji, not fear of the stranger. Instead—a wave of sweet, serene bliss. Images flashed before his eyes: the snowy slopes of Drum, the scent of medicinal herbs, Doctor Hiluluk's rough but kind hand on his head... Good times. When he was just Tony Tony Chopper, and the world was simpler. A soft smile crept onto his muzzle.
He glanced at Zoro. The swordsman stood a bit apart, back against the mast. His single eye was narrowed, gaze sharp as a blade, but calm. He stared at the Goddess. Or at a complex puzzle. Not a trace of confusion or rapture.
"Hm," Zoro grunted, tearing his gaze from the screen. He turned and headed for the hatch leading to the hold. "I'm gonna go drink a barrel of rum. While you all stare."
He disappeared below, leaving puzzled glances in his wake. But the crew quickly turned back to the main event. Everyone—Luffy, Nami, Robin, Franky, Brook, Jinbe, even the great Usopp and Chopper, perched beside the sleeping Sanji—froze in anticipation. Stunned. All eyes were riveted to the face of the Goddess of Love and Desire.
**Screens: Estellar**
The silence of the multiverse grew thick. Billions of gazes, sensors, and thoughts were fixed on the black screens. And then Her Voice sounded again.
—"They call me by different names in countless worlds."
—"But you may call me Estellar."
She let the image linger, allowing infinity to absorb her essence—the embodiment of all that beckons, burns, and promises bliss.
—"You wonder,"—she continued, and galaxies of passion flashed in her eyes.—"Why I tear away the veils? Why this... performance?" She gently traced her hand across the black surface of the screen, as if stroking a cheek through space. —"I have come to show you the World. But not the one you know. Forget the ballads of heroes, the rumble of artifacts, or the rustle of falling civilizations."
She leaned a little closer, and her breath, sweet and intoxicating, seemed to penetrate through the screen.
—"I will show you the True Pillar of Existence. A world woven from the fire of desire and the whisper of skin on skin. A world where one great force pulsates—Passion. Subtle as a spider's web, unstoppable as a supernova. It is the air you breathe, the water you drink, the gravity that holds your worlds. You have only turned away, shamefully covering your eyes with the veil of morality and fear."
Estellar straightened, and her radiance became blinding, burning away everything except the promise.
—"I will tell you of Love, yes"—her voice tinkled like bells—"but not the kind in sonnets and sighs at the altar. I will speak of Love that burns from within, intoxicates, robs reason, and elevates to the heavens in a single cry. I will tell you of Love that is..."
She paused, filled with the hum of universal anticipation. Her smile turned predatory, laced with sweet vulgarity.
—"...the most important..."—she whispered.—"I will tell you of Sex. Of Passion. Of Pleasure, between body and spirit, between one and many. I will show you the Dance of Flesh, eternal and sacred, that moves stars and makes even gods tremble. Prepare yourselves. Forget shame. Open yourselves. For I, Estellar, have come to remind you... who you truly are. And what you truly crave."
**Alternate Universe: Warhammer 40,000. Depths of the Warp**
In the eternally churning nightmare of the Warp, where reality itself was clay in the hands of incomprehensible entities, the black screens were a shock. They hung like mute, absolutely black portals, ignoring the chaotic energy devouring the space around them. The Chaos Gods, eternal architects of suffering and change, gazed upon them not with curiosity, but with deep, boiling contempt. Estellar, this new entity, was an interference. A destroyer of plans woven over epochs.
Tzeentch: The Weaver of Fates.
His countless eyes, shimmering in a kaleidoscope of unreal colors, watched Estellar. He saw how her sudden appearance tore the finest threads of his grandiose schemes, woven millennia ahead. Rage. But... there was another thread. In the chaos she spawned, new possibilities swirled in a whirlwind, unimaginable before her arrival. He hated her for the destruction. Loved her for the potential anarchy she brought. This duality drove him mad. And his followers? Many fanatics of Change, instead of weaving intrigues, fell into idyllic euphoria, gazing at the screens. This was not change—it was stupor. And that enraged Tzeentch most.
Khorne, the Blood God, Lord of Slaughter:
His throne, forged from countless skulls of fallen warriors from innumerable races, trembled. A guttural, inhuman roar escaped his maw, shaking the Warp's environs. Rage was his essence, and now it was directed at Estellar and her cursed screens. He unleashed his full might upon them—waves of kinetic hatred, clots of pure destructive energy, axe blows capable of splitting worlds. Nothing left a scratch. His berserkers, his furious legions, instead of thirsting for enemy blood, sat or stood, staring at the screens with blissful, euphoric smiles on their twisted faces. They didn't hear the call to Battle! They didn't rush to kill! SHE had stolen their wrath! Khorne craved only one thing—to slaughter this "goddess of love," tear her shining form to atoms, and drown the universe in a sea of blood to wash away this weak pleasure! His fury was blind and all-consuming.
Nurgle, Lord of Decay (the loving grandfather): Knee-deep in the foul broth of his eternally blooming Garden, he stared at the screen with loathsome contempt. His pus-filled eyes narrowed. Let Estellar show her "passion" and "pleasure." He would show HER! He would show the TRUE essence of life—rot, decay, the sweet agony of contagion! But... his own beloved children, the plague legions, had fallen into a strange stupor. They weren't spreading blessings, weren't writhing in filth, but simply staring, their leathery sacks of pus quivering in time with the strange calm emanating from the screens. This angered him. But what infuriated Nurgle most was something else. This universal wave of euphoria, this sweetness... it was pure. The antithesis of his rot. And he knew, knew in his bones: only Slaanesh would gain from this. That thought poisoned his ulcerous soul more than any plague he had created.
Slaanesh, Princess of Pleasure: And there she was. In love. Truly. Not as a deity gazing upon a toy, but as a little, hysterical girl gripped by her first, all-consuming passion. Her perfect, impossible form trembled. Her countless eyes shone not with lust, but with naive, total adoration. Her entire cosmic mind, usually occupied with exquisite tortures, endless orgies, and the search for new, impossible sensations, was filled only with Estellar. Nothing else mattered. She didn't want to torment or seduce the universe—she desperately craved for Estellar to look at her. Even fleetingly! As her own followers had craved her attention for centuries! Now she understood their tormenting longing. Her daemons and mortal adherents were in total, uncontrollable ecstasy. They didn't pray—they reveled with primordial, almost childlike directness. They licked screens, laughed, danced, indulged in simple yet incredibly vivid pleasures of life. Slaanesh watched with confusion mixed with euphoria. When Estellar announced her intent to show the "multiverse of passion, love, pleasure, and sex," Slaanesh's rapture was boundless. Her power, fed by this universal focus on sensuality and enjoyment, already pulsed, growing exponentially. Soon she would be tens, hundreds of times mightier. And all this—merely a reflection of Her, Estellar's, radiance.
**Alternate Universe: Sonic's World**
Black screens hung across the world, but Sonic's team gathered as usual in a clearing near Tails' house. Estellar's words about "love, passion, pleasure, and sex" hung heavy and unexpected in the air.
Tails: The little fox literally flushed. His face turned redder than a tomato. He swallowed hard, trying to hide behind his gadgets. *She... she wants to show that? To everyone? Right now?* raced through his young, genius but utterly unprepared mind. The thought that millions—or more?—beings would see this... made him feel tiny and incredibly embarrassed.
Sonic: The hedgehog grinned, rubbing his nose with a worldly air. "Damn, what an entrance! And here I was blaming Eggman's latest lame stunt... 'Worldwide TV for Universal Enlightenment,' heh! Nah, guess it's this Estellar chick calling the shots!" He crossed his arms, but behind the bravado, his super-fast mind raced: *Damn-damn-damn, how the hell do I explain THIS now? Especially if Tails asks? Or Cream?* Inner panic clashed with outward coolness.
Vanilla stood wringing her hands in genuine shock. "Oh... oh my..." she whispered. "Estellar... dear... is it really proper to... say that? So... bluntly? And... show it?" She glanced at the children, feeling the ground shift beneath her feet. Her entire maternal being clenched into a knot of anxiety.
Cream, sensing her mother's distress, tugged Vanilla's dress. Her eyes looked up with pure curiosity: "Mommy? What's 'sex'? Is it something tasty? Or like a game?"
Vanilla froze. Time seemed to stop. She felt a blush bloom on her cheeks, rivaling Tails'. "W-w-well..." she began, stammering, desperately scrambling for safe words in her kind vocabulary. "Cream, sweetheart... it's... when grown-ups... um... love each other very, very much. Like that." She cast a pleading glance skyward, as if seeking support from the Sun itself. "Please, Sun, let her be satisfied with that! And for heaven's sake, let Estellar not show ANYTHING GRAPHIC! No... porn! Damned screens, damned goddess!"
"Ohhh, I see!" Cream nodded, her question appeased by the simple explanation of "very strong love." She instantly lost interest in the complex topic and reached for the Chao playing nearby.
Vanilla exhaled softly, feeling a mountain lift off her shoulders, but a storm of maternal dread and foreboding about awkward explanations still raged inside. Tails looked like he wanted the earth to swallow him whole. Sonic tapped his foot nervously, feigning indifference. And the black screen hung serenely, promising to show the multiverse of passion.
**The Screens**
Estellar let the last note of her laughter—"hee-hee!"—dissolve into the fabric of countless realities.
—"The first act of our... revelation—shall be dedicated to the purest and most tragically comic of forces—sincere love. But not the kind minstrels sing of. I will show you love that pulsates on the edge of worlds, of feelings... even of species."
She paused.
—"Picture this: a human and a Pokémon. A bond woven with trust, battles fought side-by-side, warmth shared by a campfire on a cold night. Heroism. Loyalty. But—within the heart of one of them, something greater stirs. Far greater. Not mere friendship or devotion. I will show you the fire of desire blazing in the breast of a creature whose nature is so vastly different from human. A creature that sees in its master not a teacher, but... the object of an indivisible, all-consuming passion. It craves touches beyond battle or caress. It dreams of possessing. Utterly. Body and soul."
—"And its master? A fool. A blindling, spellbound by the mundane or false ideals." He sees not! Feels not the storm brewing in the devoted eyes of his companion! He dooms them to the torment of unrequited love, unaware what demons his blindness awakens in the one he deems only friend and fighter. Hee-hee..."
—"So, prepare your hearts and minds, dear viewers—The performance begins in precisely one week. Savor this time of waiting... the anticipation."
Her rolling, powerful, shameless laughter shook the foundations of perception. And before its last echo faded, the black screens winked out, plunging the myriad worlds back into their familiar reality. But now, that reality was charged with anxious, sweet, unbearable anticipation.
The multiverse was collectively stunned.
All that pomp, cosmic scale, mysterious black screens, promises to reveal "true passion" and "the essence of being"... And FOR WHAT?! PORN—albeit veiled as "tragically comic unrequited passion." For countless civilizations expecting revelations about the nature of existence or universal harmony, it felt like a cosmic kick in the teeth instead of a key to life's mysteries. A universal sense of grand, cosmic trolling settled in.
The silence in the Pokémon world was so thick you could hear a leaf drop in Ilex Forest. It hung over cities, arenas, routes, even wild areas. It was the silence of a collective, absolute, mute "WHAT THE ACTUAL HELL JUST HAPPENED?!!"
The entire Pokémon world, from Professors to the humblest Pidgey, was utterly, totally, irredeemably floored. The goddess of revelations chose to begin Her "love lessons" with *them*? And with such a... *specific*... topic? It was beyond their comprehension.
**Multiverse. Absolute Void**
Estellar floated in the timeless Nothing, a place beyond realities. Her radiant form was the only point of light in infinite darkness. She smiled to herself, feeling waves of excited desire and anxiety from countless universes wash over her essence.
And suddenly, the Void stirred.
The fabric of reality convulsed and *tore*. From the ruptures poured something monstrous.
Their eyes were infinite in number. Some—galaxy-sized, radiating cold hatred. Others—tiny as quantum particles, swarming the darkness by the millions, drilling into Estellar with all-seeing, paranoid gazes. Eyes of plasma, of ice, of pure pain, of forgotten nightmares.
The Entity focused on Estellar. The gaze of all eyes, all voices merged into a single, monstrous wave of hatred and condemnation:
—"YOU!"—it thundered, making Estellar's radiance vibrate.—"Foul spawn of Chaos! Mold on the face of Being! HOW DARE YOU?! You have torn the veil of Balance! I see the threads of Fate snapping! I see suns extinguishing in worlds whose stories you've perverted! I see timelines tangled into a dirty knot by your vulgar 'revelation'! How many lives twisted?! How many grand narratives turned to ash and shame?!"
The Entity pulsed, mouths grinding and snarling:
—"I WILL FIND YOU. I will shred every spark of your consciousness! You KNOW THIS!"
Even if your trail runs cold, even if you hide in the very heart of Desire… others will find you.
The Ancient Ones. Stronger. Hungrier. They smell your stench. They will tear you apart for sport! Cast you into the Nothingness you crawled from!
Estellar listened. Her radiance did not flicker. A serene smile bloomed on her face. She tilted her head slightly, and her voice cut through the Entity's roar, quiet and clear:
—"I don't care."—Three words of contempt.—"And you know it."
Silence. The Void still groaned with the Entity's presence. But its voices fell silent for a moment. The vast eyes narrowed. The tiny ones flickered feverishly.
—"Yes..."—the main voice grated at last.—"I know. That is why… when I find you… I will not simply kill you. I will CONSUME you. Every memory of you in the multiverse. Every spark of your blasphemous Desire. You will become fuel for my eternal Hatred. And then… perhaps… Balance will be restored."
The Entity began to contract, eyes merging. Its presence faded—the silence returned.
Estellar remained alone. Her smile did not vanish. She merely turned toward infinity, her radiance flaring brighter, defying the darkness and the promise of consumption.
**Somewhere in another multiverse:**
In cosmic space floated what looked like an ordinary man, but was actually one of the most powerful beings in his reality. He stared into the void, but in truth, he was observing other multiverses. At one moment, he noticed something unusual: screens appeared in one of them. Not too surprising in itself, but what they would show… mildly surprised him. Instead of battles between the strongest, the birth of universes or humanity, it would literally be multiversal porn. He watched as cosmic beings in that reality raged at Estellar for the interference.
*"Guess I could pay this multiverse a visit. Watching from here is pretty inconvenient,"* he thought. *"Though that one seems to value Balance a bit too much… might run into trouble. Ah well, survived worse. Hmm, maybe call Scorpio… Nah, he'd just complain I woke him for nothing. Fine. Time for a little adventure."*
With those words, he vanished and began seeking a way to infiltrate that reality unnoticed.