What makes a person?
One might say their memories.
Another, their experiences.
And some would say their choices.
All of them are correct, yet not.
Because they all lacked a single thing, understanding of the soul, their very being.
They don't, or rather, can't understand that their life is predetermined, their very souls engraved with their future actions and decisions.
Some had speculated this, for over a millenia, here at least.
From where I'm from, it hadn't been speculated.
The tenno, the angels. Both of their kind, soulless.
And yet, it didn't make them lesser in any way.
No, that singular fact made them… chaotic by nature.
It was in their power to alter history as it was meant to be, warp it into something beautiful or wretched.
I had gained this realization after using Nekros for a century or two.
When I used the soul punch on myself by accident.
The view, the information that singular action granted me, changed me.
It altered my very perception of my kind, and the rest of the universe.
How could I not perceive myself as wrong? When I don't even have a real soul.
Hell, when I realized the fact, I hadn't even known I wasn't actually a human.
I had believed, foolishly believed that I had been special, from all the tens of billions of people, that I had been chosen by the void to use a fraction of its power.
But no. The Lotus told me then, when I barged into her quarters in the middle of the night, covered in blood and blade held at the ready, she told me.
That I wasn't even born. I had been created.
I was nothing but a fancy Oro, a spiritual core deeply engraved with an ego, me.
I wasn't even like my peers. I wasn't from the Zariman, not originally at least. I was forged from pure void energy, molded by the Lotus herself into her perfect little soldier.
Back then, I had screamed, roared even. At the injustice of not telling me. At the cruelness I was made to commit.
At the fact that I wasn't even made for or with love.
I was made to kill. And she praised me for it. For the slaughters I committed. For the genocides I had carried out with an impassive face.
After every mission, her voice was in my head. Even while fighting, her voice was present, guiding me.
I was a puppet, and she, the puppeteer.
I left after that, never to return.
And I didn't, never did.
She did.
Manifesting from nothingness in my orbiter, she spoke to me. A softer voice than I've ever heard.
She spoke of the upcoming war, the atrocities that would come of it.
And of course, I was her greatest option as a deterrent.
I had made a name for myself after all, one that I had held for most of my life, gained from following her instructions perfectly.
The whisperer, they called me.
The devil, the maniac, the executioner.
All of those nicknames I wore for centuries, unable to take them off as if they were melted onto my Oro.
So it made sense, for her to plead for my assistance, hoping that my presence alone would at the very least force the enemies to wait and gather their forces.
And well, I did as she asked of me.
But for the second time in my life, I did it because I wanted to.
Because I knew that a war on such a scale would cause billions to die, and that the galaxy itself would be altered.
As the forces gathered for the first battle of the war, each side numbering in the thousands, each capable of reducing small celestial bodies into smithereens.
The monstrosity that was my railjack had descended from above the clouds, painted a deep black. The sharp corners outlined with crimson that weren't painted.
On top of which, I stood. As well as the army I had brought with me.
It wasn't people however.
No. I had traveled through the galaxy, finding and slaughtering each powerful foe I knew of.
And now, wielding the king of the dead, Nekros, they rose, under my command.
The whole top of the railjack was occupied, hundreds of powerful warriors returned to the land of the living.
And I stood in the front, a shade of violet that only Nekros could produce swirling around my body.
The battlefield stilled, fingers and claws grew limp around their weapons, they falling to the ground.
Both sides stared up at me then, not knowing who I had come for.
The Lotus wasn't present, and she hadn't given information about my appearance either.
All which worked in my favor.
On that very battlefield. I hadn't stopped the war. But I had slaughtered thousands.
Both armies reduced to nothing but a few stragglers that I let live on purpose.
On that very battlefield, I had gained the title that had stuck to me.
Kinslayer.
I wasn't ashamed. Even now, I know why I did it, and I know it was worth it.
Because if I hadn't, the war wouldn't have ended in the meager ten years it took. It would have lasted centuries.
I had reduced a total of sixteen armies in that single war.
And at the end of the day, the universe grew quiet.
One side destroyed off the face of it, and another left to lick its wounds.
Of course then, after everything had been settled.
Lotus herself stepped in, playing judge, jury and executioner.
Sadly for her, without fully using the void, she couldn't handle the now tens of thousands of powerful souls I held within Nekros.
And so, after a short altercation, I had been left to my own devices.
I had slowly stopped fighting, stepping in only when necessary.
So it was no surprise that each generation lost a part of history.
Each generation forgetting the horrors I had committed, and subsequently, the power I held.
And so after an amount of time I can't quite recall, another war began.
This time, there was only a single tenno, fending off literal armies.
Ballas. That fool of an executor tried to take over the universe, almost succeeding.
But the single tenno managed to sort out the whole mess, just like I had done before.
Just with a lot less bloodshed, and a few friends along the way.
And in that moment, occupying Titania and watching from a far in my shrinked form, I realized the truth.
After all this time, I was finally not needed anymore.
That there was another, far more peaceful person, willing to risk themselves to save everyone.
And so, I retired.
My railjack was hidden in a remote part of the galaxy no one dared to even approach, my orbiter hidden on Cetus. Where I finally decided to start my new journey.
I still used my warframes, not many on the planet caring about it after a different tenno saved them already.
And the rest as they say, is history.
Putting down the blade after the final swing of my limit testing, I dropped onto my bed, warframe and all.
Huh, it's been a while since I reminisced somewhat positively. Strange.
***
The pencil twirled, becoming a white circular blur from the intense speed.
I sat at my desk, as usual these days.
Although the key difference is now that I always am in my warframe when I can, it makes me feel more natural.
The pencil stopped abruptly, already drawing a line in the blueprint only I can see the next instant.
With the dilution core out of the way as a whole, it became far easier to draw up blueprints.
And while I don't quite have the materials for them as of now, I have nothing better to do.
With me purposefully limiting my wandering outside the bunker to prepare to leave it, as well as school assignments being boring and quick.
I just sat in my hab, doing whatever stimulated me the most in the moment.
It usually being remaking some sort of blueprint, be it warframe or weapon.
Nekro's physical body has already been completed, although I still have to finish up the whole souls thing, which isn't that difficult mind you, I just have to change it up a bit because of the weaker energy.
Now, I focused on a different thing entirely, a weapon.
The Soma is great, the Vectis perfect. The Exalted Blade is somewhat tied to Excalibur, but still usable with other frames, except the ability it now holds.
That being, the slash dash. An ability that with the use of the energy that I should really name, causes the blade, and anything it touches to be dragged to a nearby destination, allowing me to almost glide across the ground, from enemy to enemy. Without me even having to move a muscle.
Powerful, quick, efficient and unavoidable.
But if I use Nekros for example, I can't do that. And I'm sure as hell not replacing one of his abilities just for that. Disregarding the time and effort it would require, all of Nekro's abilities are what makes him the king of the dead. Missing even one of those abilities can throw off the entire process of soul manipulation, and who knows what that might cause.
The souls might turn against me, return as some sort of monsters, or might not even return.
So yeah, not worth it.
I'd much rather make another melee option.
Even if I don't plan to use one with Nekros.
So, instead of going with something obscenely powerful, or just a random choice.
I thought of something that fits Nekros himself.
Royalty, death and fear are what makes the frame what he is, so. What better weapon than the Hate? The scythe once wielded by the Stalker.
Sleek in design, the blade shorter than most other such weapons.
Most of the weapon is unpainted, the orikin steel shining brightly once touched by any type of light.
It was also painted a matte black, with dull crimson accents.
The perfect weapon for Nekros style wise I would say.
Although I do admit, a much larger blade would look cooler.
Hm, maybe I should lengthen it? Then I'd need to lengthen the handle as well though.
Another file opened, the picture of the weapon already present on it.
With a few tweaks with this universe's technology later, the weapon had been sized up, now being much larger, three times the size to be precise.
So no, I wouldn't be using it with one arm anymore.
Not unless I wanted to look cool or have no other option anyway.
Relaxing and leaning into the chair further, I stared at it from further, looking at it intently.
It would take more time and resources, but how cool would I look with a big ass scythe? Very cool if I do say so myself.
The file closed, and the pencil began jumping across the table, my mind entirely focused on the new task on hand.
One that is far more stimulating than any before it.
***
A week later, I laid on the bed, Excalibur hidden in a newly made large and black painted closet.
Something is going on, something is wrong with me.
Sleep mode doesn't seem to give me enough power.
Which I currently think is due to the new body part I had gotten from Lotus.
It's the only thing that makes sense.
And if that is the case, then I'm inevitably marching to my own death, one that might take decades, but will come nevertheless.
With no way of drawing upon void energy except from my own body, I have a limited lifespan if I continue using it.
The obvious solution would be to just stop using it. Stop using weapons and the warframes that require it.
But how can I throw them away? Nevermind not using the energy itself. What is the point of even having it then? To be able to destroy anything and everything, but not use it. The thought itself is ridiculous.
I can't dilute the energy source, that would quite literally "turn me off", as in the Oro.
Without the full raw power of the void energy, it wouldn't sustain itself and die.
Slapping a palm against my visor and dragging it down.
I fought against the urge to scream. Violently. Loudly. Eternally.
That wouldn't do any good.
According to my calculations that are entirely based on speculations, I have somewhere between twenty and thirty years left before I inevitably can't recover energy as fast as I use it.
And I can't just use less. I'm already using comparably little of it, with diluting it and all.
The problem is that the expenditure would grow at least three times over, perhaps even up to five with Titania.
At best, I only stay in this worker drone's body, and use pure melee weapons without any tricks.
That should lengthen my life to at least thirty years.
But that crosses out my orbiter completely, which means no space travel.
Which means never leaving this planet on my own terms.
And I'm sure not trusting any sort of technology this universe uses for space travel.
Especially since I don't know if I can even withstand space anymore. Warframe or not.
Perhaps my void suit would protect my biological body, perhaps not.
It's a gamble, one that I frankly don't plan betting on.
Rising from the bed slugishly, I noted another problem.
While I would be alive, or well, functional for a few decades.
I have a much more immediate problem.
Exhaustion.
While it doesn't quite hinder my mental processes, it has already begun slowing this body.
Which needless to say, is problematic in a battle that I already am the weaker in.
A sigh escaped me, followed by a yawn.
Lotus, fuck you.
I knew she didn't suddenly become all good once I was out of her hair.
Probably did this on purpose, giving me enough time to realize what is happening to me, and die knowing I couldn't do anything against it.
Well, she would live to regret it.
Because I will fix this bullshit. Then, go back and slaughter her where she stood once I'm done helping the people of this universe.
I wouldn't keep ignoring her actions.
No. This time, there would be a cost for her foolishness.
My hand slammed against the desk, a pencil manifesting next to it.
I would draw up a new body, one just like this one, just lacking any and all void energy.
Then, I would dismantle the void energy parts of this current body, taking the energy back into myself.
And then repair the body.
At least, that's the best idea I currently got. No idea if that would even work.
Hell, I might just kill myself in the process, but it's worth a shot.
Slowly but surely, the blueprint filled up, with the blueprints posted on the internet of the worker drones body's, it was a simpler task than I anticipated.
However, this wasn't the hard part.
The second hardest part would be transferring into the new body, which would require me to exit this one and walk into the new one.
That is to say, if there are any severe chemicals in the air, and my suit is damaged in any way, I'm dead on the spot.
Not to mention the fact that I don't even know if I'll be able to control the new body, since it wouldn't have any void energy.
And then comes the hard part, dismantling the void parts in this current body, absorbing the energy into myself.
Ignoring the fact that "melting" or any sort of such thing is impossible for anything void related, I at least got the absorption part down, I hope.
Rather, I shouldn't need to do anything, technically.
Once freed from the bindings, it should come to me at a mere touch, searching and merging with the closest and biggest source of itself.
So yeah, simple in theory, absolutely fucking not in reality.
***
Khan doorman sighed heavily, removing the hardhat from his head and placing it gently onto the desk he was currently sitting at.
He picked up the paper for the third time that day, still incredulous as to why the boy had used paper rather than anything else to say his final goodbye.
The message was simple, to the point. And while it wasn't meant for Khan's optics, he had no choice but to read it, such was his duty and the teacher's.
The message goes as follows:
"Hello Uzi, and I suppose, goodbye. I've decided to leave the bunker, to find a solution to my problem. No, I don't have any leads. No, don't try to contact me.
I will be fine, I'm sure you know that.
I also left you a gift you know where, for all the birthdays I will miss, hope it's good enough.
Don't try looking for me, until you break through the newest security locks, I'll be gone for a month at least.
Goodbye. -Tenno.
Ps. My hab is now yours, documents and all."
Khan rubbed at his visor, the digital stress lines growing in depth and size.
The WDF looked through the entire hab, not finding anything amiss.
And Uzi herself didn't reveal anything other than the letter. Well, technically she revealed it to the teacher, since Tenno and he were on good terms, who then gave it to Khan himself.
Leaning back into his black office chair, he looked at the ceiling, contemplating.
***
The roof of an old worn down building shattered into a thousand of pieces, quickly followed by the whole building.
Which was then followed by several more.
The dust rose, acting as a perfect smokescreen for the assassin.
A yellow laser shot through it, arching through the air randomly, the wielder blindly trying to hit the enemy, to no avail.
Once it stopped, so did all noise, even the wind's loud howls seemed to quiet from the aftermath.
And soon enough, the dust was blown away, revealing a crumbled disassembly drone, their entire upper chest missing from their body.
In front of which stood Excalibur, the Exalted Blade in the left hand, and a small mechanical pyramid in the right.
He rose the small object to his eye level, inspecting it.
He hadn't killed the drone, not yet, not until he crushed this if he was right.
Which also means he currently has a hostage.
An unseen smirk grew on Tenno's face, as he placed the core of the murder drone into a large titanium safe on his lower back.
While fighting and subsequently capturing one of these new age vampires wasn't in today's plans, it was still fine.
He had plenty of time to gather what he left for, as well as have enough time to return to base.
Ignoring the case that had began letting out low chattering and scratching noises, he turned and walked off, not even sparing the half obliterated body a glance.
He had no use for it after all, the foundry rejected the parts, rather forcefully.
The first time he tried it, he got a few hundred warnings of possible malware, so yeah, he'd rather not try his luck.
Besides, the body's a good present for their teammates, perhaps it would instill enough fear into them to lessen their unnecessary killing spree. They have plenty of oil after all, no need to slaughter so many of the poor worker drones.
*
Only a few hours later, Tenno sat in an encased room made purely out of orikin alloys, the walls gleaming with an otherworldly gold glow.
Now in the small body of a worker drone, he observed the pyramid shaped core, it somewhat reminding him of a crab.
It was saying something, he's sure, but the words were not quite correct, as if he was just listening to radio static, with only a few letters that occasionally appear.
He raised his short index finger, prodding it gently.
It immediately scattered, running every which way, dodging imaginary attacks.
"Strange."
He hummed silently, optics narrowing.
Picking up the soma off the table, he aimed right next to the crab core, and shot a single round.
Even if there was no danger for it, the crab bolted, chattering and swerving randomly, possibly hard coded to move to the best of its ability to dodge bullets.
The large assault rifle returned to the desk, and Tenno stood up and approached the now standing still core.
He would have dissected it, if there was anything to gain, alas, the nano technology and other fancy things it possessed was all but useless for him currently.
And if he ever needed such in particular, the disassemblers weren't too hard to find.
Enclosing it in his palms, he picked it up gently, bringing it up to his face.
So unique and intriguing.
Suddenly his grip strengthened, the core nearly bursting.
Tenno quickly walked to a computer, not his main one of course, he knew what would happen to it.
But one of the many laptops he had scavenged throughout the months.
Placing the core next to it, still gripped tightly in his left arm, he rather forcefully, injected a cable into it, giving it digital access.
In barely a second, the screen flickered and died, before literal thousands, perhaps even millions lines of code began flashing, all in that sickly yellow color.
And then, it was all replaced by a single line of text.
[Please stop crushing me.]
Tenno couldn't stop the choke of laughter even if he tried, slightly lessening the grip he had on the poor thing.
He didn't do it out of mercy, no.
"Can you hear me?"
[.]
[..]
[...]
[Yes.]
"And I assume you can see me through the camera?"
[Correct.]
Tenno's head tilted sideways, one optics staring at the camera,
"Let's not waste time then."
He paused for a moment before continuing,
"Give me what I want, and I will let you live. I'll bring you back to your body even."
There wasn't a reply for a few minutes, the drone probably weighing it's options.
[Go on then.]
A smile grew on Tenno's face, it containing far too many teeth for the murder drone's liking.
"Name?"
[You can address me as Opera.]
Tenno hummed, repeating the word a few times,
"I'm Tenno."
Was his simple introduction, almost uncaring for how apathetic it sounded.
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