Grabbing the edge of my golden flower-shaped pod–where I had been resting–I delicately pried it open and floated out. My long tail whipped in the air as I stretched, groaning loudly in contentment.
The pain from being repeatedly stabbed was gone, the sweet agony defeated, utterly shattered in the face of Isha's life-giving power; there wasn't even a dull ache remaining. Yet a tiny fraction of me was disappointed the suffering was gone, a little part I would destroy, but all needed to be done in due time.
It was an incredible sensation, to say the least, one I hadn't been the most familiar with back in the war, as injuries requiring my sister's full attention rarely, if ever, occurred. Unless forced or part of a scheme, I didn't recklessly rush into the fray. Why do so when I can punch someone from the other side of the Milky Way?
Well, that was an exaggeration, but the sentiment was there. My range was virtually limitless, but my ability to express my might through it was not. In addition, my rings were numbered, could be overwhelmed and broken, and the teleportation could be slowed down too. Otherwise, I would have just thrown every C'tan in the Well of Eternity a precise set of spells.
It was immensely powerful, the strongest and most versatile aspect of my being, but it wasn't all-powerful.
My eyes locked on the Aeldari woman to welcome me, Aeldari in shape only, that is. Oh, and if the Aeldari woman could defy the definition of beauty.
"How do you feel, Hoopa? Is there any variable I may need to be aware of? Your wounds were extensive and deep. Truthfully, I'm uncertain if the damages were directly upon your uncorrupted form; I could have brought you to health. You were lucky." Isha said softly, shuffling at me as she worriedly looked over my body, sending several psychic pulses to check if I was alright.
Unnecessary, but I appreciated the emotions behind it.
"I suppose so… And excellent regarding my injuries, as always your work is miracles made manifest if only the locks 'Mother' put on you could be lessened. This entire space drama could be aborted. I suppose that's a problem for a later date." I finished with a full-blown snarl. I wasn't the only one to have programming implemented; programming I was thoroughly powerless against.
In Isha's case, she was the greatest biomancer; life was her to manipulate without limit, yet she couldn't directly alter species in a way that was autonomously self-replicable, particularly Krorks and Aeldari. She was heavily restricted outside of combat and healing. Logical from the point of view of the frog bitch, but hateable nonetheless.
She couldn't modify herself or any of us. No growth outside of the number of worshipers was possible. Again, it is logical and unbreakable unless you find precise loopholes. It was always that, and that was getting dull. Rules and restrictions always and evermore.
The Necron was one of those loopholes. They weren't alive; it was a healing process. It was among why she couldn't fix the errors in Khrave's biology born of my mistake and subsequent panic, but she could bless them with good health and fertility instead. It was very arbitrary.
There were many such cases among us; it was vicious, but at least my kids began to understand what had been our status, the gravity of the situation, and why I did what I did. Despite hate, spite, and rage fueling my actions more than anything remotely righteous.
We had been tools, no more, no less, coded to act a certain way and obey orders without questions.
"She-Who-Thirst remains, and I would say the same. But… I was made to be sealed… intact or not. I have a plan. It was a poor idea from the beginning to attach those vile concepts to me, a grave mistake." I added with the beginning of a smile. Oh, indeed, it was a significant problem, but none. I couldn't work around it the more I thought about it.
Nothing permanent, but that was an absolute, an unrealistic ideal God or mortal. And it didn't require permanence to be effective. It showed it was a desperate attempt on me.
"Indeed, I… could do little for that parasitic percentile of your essence. I tried to isolate it, but it fought back, and the result was an imperfect blockade, as infuriating as it is to admit. It would do, I suppose." She breathed, "Remember that you are not alone, my King. I will do my utmost to assist you. We mustn't repeat the mistakes of the past; you have opened the path forward, and we will follow you in the darkness. You are our guide, our savior, our only way."
"Then let's proceed and be proactive." I clapped two of my hands while the four others clasped together, partly fusing as pentagrams were invoked. My form rippled before dividing into two perfect copies, or that's what it appeared at first glance.
In truth, I merely existed simultaneously at two different points in the current time continuum, a partial shift into the fourth physical dimension blatantly taken from Morai-Heg and Cegorach. Copying was one of my greatest strengths. I wasn't as proficient as any of my family in their given crafts, but I could do them all. It was my magic.
The two were one, and they were my body. There wasn't an increase or decrease in power. It was neither division nor multiplication. If one were wounded, the other would be in equal amounts. But even if wrongly said, it was easy to mistake it for cloning; after all, I could seamlessly move my two bodies–one in reality–in diametrically opposite manners.
It was horrendous for battle outside of extremely specific situations, but for the present, it was perfect. I couldn't waste time, and I had a promise to hold.
"I have an important discussion I have postponed with the one who freed me, Isha." The me to the right intoned and, without further ado, vanished in a golden loop, leaving the left me.
"Let's call the Pantheon and begin the planning properly." I declared, and the first council of this new Pantheon began.
•••••
At the same thousands of times, light years away within the confined fragments of Realspace, kept isolated from the wider universe, and the Warp itself was a planet of green and blue. Beautiful as it may be, it was a life-bound planetoid like countless others.
Yet it remained unique, chosen and favored by an alien divining of origin not so alien from this planet. A golden ring flickered into existence at the highest peak of the planetoid's largest chain of mountains, and from it, the deity in question hovered down on the world.
"Quite the pretty sight." Hoopa hummed pensively, making a rectangle with his finger and a flash of light, later shaking the photo he took before throwing one of his rings, "Earth remains Earth, beautiful as ever."
"Now…" He trailed off, snapping his finger, causing a massive throne of immaculate gold to exit a ring and delicately place itself on the rocks ground that suddenly had flattened. At the same time, this entire portion of the mountain became invulnerable to nothing less than the energy of the Sun's surface.
'Zenith Dominion, Asuryan did neglect you.' That was the name of this throne–a ziggurat in shape but a small mountain in overall size–an artifact damaged by its uses and time. Yet, it remained the weapon that once upon a time held against the full might of the Infinite Empire of the C'tan and the gates of the Ghostwind, a realm older than Creation where nothingness itself was erased.
But for now, it served as suitably comfortable seating, one the Archdjinni of the Rings permanently borrowed from the Celestian Enclave two seconds ago.
Not that its owner was in the position to protest, but that was unknown to Hoopa, and he wouldn't care. He couldn't use it anyway. By design, it classed against his divinity of Darkness, the necessity of his energy inside to properly function, and the reason why.
"That should do it." He mumbled, making himself comfortable on the throne of mass destruction. If there was an image of opulence and excess within the realm of sanity, the Aeldari God of Magic was its perfect image.
His tail lazily flicked left and right behind him while he held up a hand below his beard, two others clasped the armrests, a fourth was waving a fan of dark purple light toward him, and a fifth was plucking pastries from somewhere.
The sixth and final one was pointing in front of him where the golden ring that once around this same wrist had moved and expanded into a portal. It didn't take long for the person on the opposite side to walk out, a human male, but one glance was enough to see he was more, far more, yet simultaneously less. A walking contradiction of a man, his pupils were glowing of the purest light and his hair of the darkest abyss, but his visage was oddly unremarkable, as one mildly handsome farmer could have.
Neither of the two were humans, yet only one had the right to say he had ever been one. The first lost it by force, and the second agreed never to have it. Both were tools, yet only one had a choice. Such was the divine irony between Light and Darkness.
"Hello again, El Shaddai." Hoopa greeted smoothly, his sixth hand placed in front of the Perpetual for him to walk upon.
"Fath–Hoopa." The man caught himself doing as wordlessly prompted and declared, staring into the dreadful eyes of the Devil, "I have made my three wishes."
"You remember my rules, no? No demanding for more wishes, no control of the will of others and oneself, and no alteration of the two above or any of our closes." The human nodded, and Hoopa smiled, a predatory smile full of sharp teeth. A smile that seemed illusory as it vanished when he clapped two hands, silencing the eternal blizzard surrounding them.
"Then play tell; I'm all ears, my little light." The Archdjinni of the Rings told, shifting to smoke to rematerialized with his head tilted at an angle deadly to most mortal races and a broad smile accompanying the motion. God was enjoying this exchange.
There was a moment of silence.
"I wish for Humanity to be free of outside influence… until they are prepared." El Shaddai said evenly for his first wish, and the sharp giggle he earned was as anticipated.
"Clever, very clever. That can be arranged: no Daemons, no aliens, no Gods, and no nothing not born of Mankind progress from then henceforth under my vigilance shall affect humans as a whole. Though, a hint: you should have used 'interact' if you wanted to be thorough. I don't want Cegorach screaming he won't see the rise of memes. I'm grateful." Hoopa babbled, snapping his finger, and a dark sphere flowed out of the boy that would be king's body.
"I wish for the knowledge and wisdom of the cosmos, of reality and unreality." It was his second, and this time, it was a whistle of excitement with a massive eye staring at his soul he got.
"You're lucky I'm not malicious… toward you. Sometimes things are better left unknown." Hoopa said darkly, existential dread flashing in El Shaddai at the sudden shift in presence, the Dark King in its truest form, "That would be an arrogant demand even for the likes of the Architect of Fate, an impressive fit of vacuous foolhardiness. You are bold, very bold. I'm not omniscient, yet I can grant this demand… given time. I hope you understand. For now, accept this: a droplet in the oceans of magic. A truth seldom any can accept without falling to the deepest pit of despair, less so who can climb their way up."
A clawed finger delicately touched upon the Perpetual forehead, and he screamed. A scream like none other, it was raw, feral, and primal. He cried blood from his eyes, nose, ears, and mouth as a fractal of the truth of the universe was carved into his brain, uncaring for the pain it might cause.
-You should have been less vague.
~.- The taunting voice rang in his pounding head, adding to the maddening agony. El Shaddai didn't know how long he screamed, but then it all faded into crystal clarity, and he understood.
"Woah…" It was the complex string of words that left his lips as he stood up and shook his head, the blood turning to ash under his power and his hair combing back in a clean cut.
El Shaddai would say he was angry–a large understatement–and that wouldn't be false, but compared to what he learned… he couldn't muster the will to act or even show it. It would be childish as well. He understood the scale of his wish even if he believed he had before.
He was so small, so insignificant, so powerless and pointless. He hated it. He wanted it to change, to prove Hoopa–his Father, no matter his non-acknowledgment of that reality–wrong, to show his worthiness that he was more. This sensation… It was visceral, euphoric, and horrific at once.
"What is your third, my little light? Be mindful of what you ask. This is your last and final wish. Once said, there is no walking back." The divine djinni touted, changing position yet again after turning to shadowy smoke. Two of his floating armless talons were holding his chin while his body was splayed on the golden throne. His gaze was merry and fixated on the Perpetual.
"I wish to understand humans, to experiment with what it is, to grasp their chaotic emotions and how they are but remain as is. In my travels, I never felt this spark; it was always beyond me. Anger, joy, fear, sadness, and more I have, but they are in dissonance to all I have met." And the third came; Hoopa was silent until he exploded in laughter, a genuinely happy, if confused, laugh that shook the world.
"Forget what I said. The second wish was modest. You want to have the complete human experience yet remain a demi-god. Ah! It's commendable, but that's not how things work. But if that's your wish, then so be it. You will need patience. You don't enforce those things, and you resist the idea of lowering yourself, then it's the contrary, you must do, family, friends, enemies, it's for you to decide. I would assist per your wish, but be warned, I'm on my side. Goodbye!" Hoopa declared and warped himself away, leaving behind the strange throne and El Shaddai atop the mountain.
But Hoopa was kind. A portal ring present leading to where the human had been before coming here popped up.