The Blue. Upper Orbit. Herta's Space Station.
Long, deafening explosions rocked the halls of the Space Station, their echoes vibrating through the halls. Yet on an isolated platform, time as though had stopped—an eerie calm stretched out, which seemed far removed from the pandemonium.
At the center of the platform stood a young woman with wine-red hair, an invisible violin poised in her hands.
Her fingers hovered above where the strings would be, her gaze fixed at the mayhem happening outside the window. The sound of the instrument's dramatic melody flowed in her head, almost as if she was savoring the chaos around her.
Outside, explosions continued to assail the station, the Antimatter Legion swarming in droves.
Suddenly, her steps faltered.
'How strange,' Kafka mused inwardly. Her thoughts briefly wandering to her script—just before she set out on the mission, she had been given a stern statement, one that doubled as a warning.
You will have an encounter you will never forget.
It was cryptic, to say the least.
Perhaps it was why she was mulling about it even now. Elio's scripts were usually filled with the worst possible outcomes, but she had never received anything this vague before.
Correction: It was "anything else".
If she was being honest, this wasn't the first time she has learned about it. In fact, it was the reason why she didn't turn him down when she was recruited to join the Stellaron Hunters way back when. To her, Elio didn't seem the type of to fabricate nonsensical lies at the time.
And to this day, that opinion hasn't changed. If anything, years of working in tandem had only deepened that trust.
Being reminded of her script now meant that it was an indication for something else, so it shouldn't come as a surprise that she would give it some thought.
Having said that, no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't begin to come up with anyone who could give anything worthy of an unforgettable experience. Hell, even she doubted herself whether she could provide the proper conditions if asked what would count as such.
Because of that, for the first time, Kafka thought she was out her depth.
Her feelings, though, was understandable—it wasn't like she was unaccustomed to uncertainty, especially in her line of work. However, the sense of foreboding was keeping her nerves frantic. Almost as if an intuition that something wrong was bound to happen.
"My, that was dangerous." She chuckled, realizing she had just raised a flag.
"Kafka, stop being distracted. It's almost time."
Lifting her head, the monitor that was previously playing an emergency broadcast turned into a static logo.
Kafka didn't even need to ask, she instantly recognized it was Silver Wolf's doing.
"Fine, fine." Kafka shrugged. "I don't have a good feeling about the mission anyway. I'd rather tidy things up as quickly as possible if I could."
"Heh. What? Did the script Elio gave rattled you that hard? Isn't that exactly what you've been asking for?"
"It's not that I'm afraid, it's just..."
Kafka straightened her body, and she lowered her hands, no longer in the mood to pretend to play the violin. She let out a sigh as the door opened, taking a long moment before spotting a figure on corner of her vision.
In that moment, the air changed.
The station was still besieged in utter disarray, but her figure—amidst the tremors and the erratic flicker of lights in the hallway—inspired quiet solemnity.
The air seemed to thicken with an undeniable presence.
"What's wrong? Why did you stop?" Silver Wolf continued to talk over the intercom.
"...An emanator."
Kafka couldn't tell whether the murmur was a response to Silver Wolf's question or simply an affirmation of her premonition, as the first thought that crossed her mind. In any case, it couldn't have been closer from the truth.
As the figure turned, the light caught the crown above her head.
But to call it a halo would've been a lie.
For it was a jagged ring of obsidian shards that were cracked and fragmented in some edges. Her wings followed the same geometry—not of feathers, but of crystalline blades that glowed with same dark luster.
Though her attire was modest, it perfectly complemented her raven-black hair, which cascaded in sleek waves at the end.
Long locks framed her face, drawing attention to the most striking part of her visage: her eyes.
Her irises were as dark as the void, a pitch-black abyss that seemed to pull in the light around them. Her pupils, however, were startlingly pure, stark white against the inky backdrop of her gaze.
———Arturia "Virtuosa" Giallo.
Rumor has it that a certain Lord Ravager who opposes IX, the Nihility awakened to his impulse for destruction when he heard the sound of her cello as she was passing by from a nearby star system.
Detailed accounts varied, but that day was said to be accompanied by the fall of an Aeon.
Later on, the Intelligentsia Guild posited that there was a high likelihood, as her musical performance was the only provable cure capable of completely eliminating the ailments of Self-Annihilators. Yet, in a bizarre irony, it awakens repressed desires and compels the listeners to act without restraint, fear, or regret—ultimately driving them toward Self-Destruction.
Recognizing the danger, the IPC quickly issued a warrant of her arrest but has yet to formally make a move in its official capacity. Due to her connection with the Galaxy Rangers, coupled by her supposed crimes being legally in the gray, apprehending her proved to be difficult.
As an aside, even though her aesthetics are firmly rooted in her belief to free people from their emotional shackles, she has also been recognized by Nanook — or, as far as the stories go at least.
"Please, no need to be so stiff. I promise I don't bite."
Virtuosa's voice lingered in the air, but something about the quality of her voice rubbed Kafka the wrong way.
Somehow, it reminded her of her ability.
Now that she thought about it, when did she start playing the cello?
"Oh, but your expression tells me there wouldn't be a way around that... How unfortunate. But before we proceed, I must say, I have the utmost admiration for you, Stellaron Hunters. In my travels to liberate more people, I've heard countless tales of your exploits."
"Though the world may misunderstand, you continue to stir the flow of events to its best outcome, just as preordained by your 'scripts.' Like masters of a stage, you guide every piece to dance to your play... In that sense, we're not so different, you and I."
"No matter how powerful one's spirit may be, there is no way to overcome the inevitability of the coming End... You think so, too, right? And yet, if there's a means to fight against it, if there's a way to impose Order upon chaos, to fill the nothingness that spans the cosmos—then surely, it must be the emotions welling up within me right here and now... And the melodies they will resonate with another!"
"Ahem. Excuse me, I might be way ahead of myself there."
"Still, I really am curious. What kind of tones will your heart beat? What kind of life will emanate from you once liberation finds its way into you? Will you transform into a veriegated cacophony in my arms? Or will you defy my expectations and rise, becoming a better version of yourself?"
"Either way... Let me be the accompaniment to your play, if only for this moment."