December 12, 2099.
As the 21st century neared its end, humanity finally succeeded in a pivotal scientific breakthrough.
In one of Earth's most advanced laboratories, researchers had perfected nearly all the core technologies required for interplanetary colonization.
It was the first real sign that the human race was ready to begin large-scale development of the Moon and Mars.
December 31, 2099.
This milestone achievement was formally broadcast around the globe.
At the twilight of the century, the world erupted in celebration.
Fireworks—that ancient tradition—were once again brought back into fashion.
Brilliant explosions of color lit up the blackened night skies across every continent.
---
London, England.
In a private estate just outside the city, Golariel, currently in the form of a human woman, stood under the night sky.
Watching the fireworks blossom overhead, she smiled.
"Pretty," she said softly.
Standing beside her, Elsa nodded in agreement.
Decades had passed, and she had matured greatly. The youthful naivety of her early years had faded, though her appearance still seemed frozen at around twenty-five.
Immortality—a dream pursued by countless humans—was now nothing more than a trivial ability for her.
Thanks to the permissions granted through the Crimson Heaven, she could tap into a portion of its power to easily produce other long-lived, even undying beings if she so desired.
After a moment of silence, Elsa asked Golariel:
"You've lived for thousands of years… Haven't you ever gotten tired of it all?"
Her voice held a faint trace of confusion and weariness.
Golariel, still watching the fireworks, was briefly surprised by the question. Then she responded calmly and with some seriousness:
"Your sense of time is still rooted in a mortal lifespan. Once you've truly adjusted to what it means to live forever, that kind of doubt will fade."
Elsa thought for a moment, then replied with a quiet sigh,
"…Maybe."
She'd seen too much aging and death over the years. The feeling of drifting through time had started to wear on her spirit.
Just then, a familiar hand wrapped gently around her waist from behind.
A warm, teasing voice followed:
"That's not the kind of question you can just brush off with 'maybe.'"
Orsaga.
His presence, his aura—it hadn't changed at all in the past several decades.
Feeling the warmth from his arm, Elsa's body relaxed. She leaned in without thinking, her cheek pressing softly against his.
So warm. So gentle.
But she knew—only she and the other five women ever saw this side of him.
To the rest of existence, Orsaga was an unmitigated threat.
He could kill trillions, destroy planets, and erase civilizations as easily as flicking a finger.
The Lord of Transcendent.
The Source of Suffering.
The Bane of the Stars.
The Fourth Chaos God.
His titles were endless.
And with them, stories of massacre and unfathomable cruelty.
Every moment, on countless planets, sentient beings offered him prayers—some in awe, some in fear.
There was no shortage of documentation labeling him as a danger beyond humanity's ability to comprehend.
But in this moment, Elsa felt only warmth.
Because no matter how insane he was toward outsiders, Orsaga had never once been cruel to any of the six women closest to him.
As he rubbed his cheek against hers like a cat demanding attention, Elsa sighed and said with mild resignation:
"Fine, fine… I'll get used to immortal life… eventually."
Just as he let go of her waist, she turned and pinched his ear.
"Weren't you supposed to be upstairs roasting the suckling pig? Why are you down here?"
Orsaga shrugged and raised his hands in surrender.
"Your mom and Iris said I was getting in the way… so they kicked me out."
Golariel chuckled at their antics, then turned her gaze back to the sky.
All around them, the sounds of celebration echoed—people across the globe rejoicing at the dawn of a new age.
In their eyes, the vastness of space was reaching out to embrace them.
But Golariel, after spending decades on this universe, could only sigh in quiet resignation.
At that moment, a calm and intelligent voice whispered beside her:
"So naive. So terribly optimistic. They think the night sky is just filled with stars… But they have no idea what else is lurking out there."
It was Kayla.
Slender, composed, wearing a soft yellow dress, she stood by Golarial's side, a quiet scholar through and through.
Over the past few decades, Kayla had seen far more than the others. She knew better than anyone how malicious this universe could be toward the weak.
In this universe, death was rarely the worst possible outcome.
Sometimes, dying quickly was a mercy.
On any random planet, doing something as simple as reading a book could catch the attention of the Chaos Gods watching from beyond the Warp.
Even something so basic.
Because the so-called God of Knowledge in this universe was a malicious trickster named Tzeentch.
He would lure truth-seekers toward falsehoods. Twist their understanding. Warp their perception.
And then, delight in watching them fall into irreversible madness.
Or take Khorne, the so-called God of Courage—who muddled courage and rage into one. Under his gaze, heroes became butchers. Kings became tyrants.
These terrifying entities did it all for fun—like a child toying with ants.
Over the billions of years of this universe's existence, countless civilizations and races had been crushed and contorted by their games.
The more you understood the true nature of these beings, the more helpless you felt.
Kayla knew very well: if it weren't for Orsaga's protection, she would have long since been consumed by Tzeentch's gaze or broken under the weight of terror.
Even the simple desire to read a book would have withered away.
Stepping up to the balcony, she watched as airships broadcast the planet-wide celebrations in the sky and sighed:
"This universe is far darker and crueler than any of these people could ever imagine. I just hope humanity can make the most of the next 20,000 years of safety. They'll need it."
Golariel stood beside her and nodded slowly.
"Let's hope so."
_____
T/N:
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