Death sighed dramatically, stretching her long legs before lazily crossing them as she reclined deeper into the plush velvet couch. The ethereal glow of the fireplace flickered across her form, casting deep shadows in the boundless, infinite void of her domain.
Across from her, Chaos—clad in their signature black and white robe—stood with arms folded, their golden and silver eyes gleaming with mischief.
"You just had to scare the poor girl, didn't you?" Death drawled, though her lips twitched in amusement.
She knew better than anyone—Chaos never did anything without dramatic flair.
Chaos huffed, but the amusement in their expression betrayed them. "No, but it was fun~ Besides," they added, their voice dripping with feigned innocence, "I don't want my dear daughter catching wind that I visited her world just yet."
They smirked, thinking about Hespera's ever-growing trail of beautiful, delicious chaos. "She's doing such a splendid job causing chaos all on her own, after all~"
There was a distinct note of pride in their voice.
Death groaned, throwing her head back in mock agony, somehow the giant plack and purple hat not falling off. "That's fair, I guess," she muttered, running her fingers through her black-streaked ends of her hair. "But damn it, when is she going on another killing spree?! I haven't seen my cutie in ages!"
She shifted, her pale fingers flicking, and in a flash of ethereal mist, a scarf appeared in her lap—one woven from the very threads of the void itself. A deep, rich black flecked with shimmering star-like motes, an eerie contrast to the emerald and amethyst patterns swirled into the design.
"I even made her an adorable scarf!" Death pouted, holding it up with exaggerated flair. "It matches her new eyes, too!"
Chaos took one look at Death's utterly petulant expression—then promptly burst into laughter.
Not just a chuckle. Not a smirk.
A full-blown, clutching-their-stomach, breathless fit of laughter.
"Y-You—!" Chaos wheezed, gripping the edge of their cloak as they nearly doubled over. "You knitted a scarf for the walking calamity of existence—?!"
Death scowled, flinging a pillow at them. "Shut up! She's my cutie!"
Chaos dodged effortlessly, their laughter ringing through the void, bright and unrestrained.
"Oh, dear friend," they sighed between breaths, wiping an imaginary tear from their eye, "you truly are too invested in that girl."
Death sniffed, holding the scarf to her chest like a proud parent. "She's my favorite, obviously. And it's not like you can talk."
Chaos only chuckled again, shaking their head. "That's different, she's my Blessed. But fair, I suppose."
Ah, what a delightful mess their daughter was making.
And it was only just getting started.
Death tapped a slender finger against her cheek, a slow smirk tugging at her ruby lips as she regarded her ever-unpredictable companion.
"Wasn't that Chaos Dragon the first successful result of your little experiments in creating a new Chaos race?" she mused, her voice smooth as silk yet laced with amusement. "I thought you were going to save that one since Oblivion eradicated all the others on Order's behalf? Why take it out of your storage prison and leave it in that world?"
Chaos merely shrugged, unbothered as ever. "She needed a way to become part Chaos Dragon," they replied nonchalantly, as if discussing the weather rather than the manipulation of fate itself.
Death arched a perfectly sculpted brow. "Did she, though?"
Chaos merely grinned, the edges of their heterochromatic silver and gold eyes shimmering with mischief.
Death exhaled slowly, shaking her head in mock exasperation. "Oh, don't give me that look. You could have figured out another way without giving away the remains of your precious pet."
Chaos chuckled, the sound a low, rippling melody that seemed to warp the very fabric of the void around them.
"Perhaps~" They dragged out the word, swaying slightly, their aura flickering like a dancing flame. "But where's the fun in that?"
Death merely laughed, throwing her legs over the armrest of her couch, reclining with all the grace of someone utterly amused by the nonsense unfolding before her.
"One day, you're going to regret giving her so much power," she warned, though there was no real bite to her words—only wry amusement.
Chaos tilted their head, smirking.
"Or," they countered, "one day, you'll be thanking me for making her strong enough to break the very laws you serve."
Death's smirk widened. "Oh, now that sounds entertaining~"
The flames in the void flickered—dark and eternal.
Chaos laughed.
Death's gaze flickered with something unreadable as she lounged in her usual spot, the velvety darkness of her realm casting long shadows across her flawless features. She rested her chin on the back of her hand, her other hand idly twirling a silver thread of death between her fingers.
"That system…" she mused, voice trailing off in thought. "She's not really using it, or…"
She frowned slightly, deep in contemplation.
Chaos, ever the enigma, simply hummed in response, swaying on their feet as they leaned against the invisible fabric of reality itself.
"Both?" they mused, lips curving into a knowing grin.
Death's fingers stilled.
Chaos stretched their arms above their head, rolling their shoulders as if to rid themselves of some nonexistent stiffness. "I didn't program it to give her an easy path to power." Their mismatched eyes gleamed like molten stars. "It's not meant to be a crutch—she was always going to grow beyond it."
Death's contemplative frown deepened, her fingers lightly tapping against her armrest.
"So, then… what's the point?" she asked, her sharp gaze locking onto Chaos.
Chaos chuckled, tipping their head back, their expression positively delighted.
"Why, my dear Death~" They grinned, voice lilting with amusement. "The point is to see what she does with it."
They tilted their head, golden and silver irises flashing.
"The System doesn't control her." A pause. A smirk. "She controls it."
Death exhaled through her nose, her lips twitching upward despite herself.
"That," she admitted, "is dangerous."
Chaos's laughter rang through the void, rippling through the folds of reality itself.
"Isn't it just?"
Chaos grinned, stepping forward with the casual grace of a ruler who knew they had all the cards in their hands. They twirled a single finger, and reality bent in response, threads of silvery-black energy swirling around them like a living tapestry.
"The System is not what most would assume," they began, voice a melodic hum, rich with amusement. "It's not some overpowered cheat or divine blessing meant to hand-feed her strength on a silver platter. No, no, that would be boring~."
They sighed dramatically, flicking their wrist as if dismissing the very idea.
Death arched a single, elegant brow. "Then what is it, exactly?"
Chaos smirked, rolling their shoulders as they leaned closer, as if sharing a secret meant only for the two of them. "The System is a Catalyst."
Death's violet eyes glinted with intrigue. "Elaborate."
Chaos spread their arms, conjuring a series of shifting images in the space between them—ghostly projections of code, symbols, and intertwining cosmic threads. At the center of it all, a single, pulsing core of energy flickered.
"The System doesn't dictate Hespera's power. It doesn't grant her anything she wouldn't already achieve on her own." Chaos twirled a strand of their silver-black mist between their fingers. "What it does is observe, analyze, and reinforce her natural evolution. A growth engine, fine-tuned for the most optimal route."
Death tapped her fingers against her armrest. "And the difference between that and a normal system?"
Chaos grinned, and the entire space around them pulsed, the very void responding to their amusement.
"A normal system forces a path. It imposes limits, structures, and predetermined outcomes. It assigns roles—warrior, mage, assassin, ruler—locking its wielder into a narrative of its own design."
They lifted a single finger, pointing toward the shifting projections.
"But my system?" They chuckled, a glint of mischief dancing in their heterochromatic eyes. "It does not dictate. It does not control. It evolves alongside her."
The projections shifted—one moment displaying power levels, another showing intricate branching possibilities, paths that spiraled outward like an endless web of potential.
"It adapts to her will. Her choices. Every fight, every kill, every moment of growth is recorded, analyzed, and amplified. It doesn't choose for her—it enhances what she naturally becomes."
Death hummed thoughtfully, a smirk tugging at her ruby lips. "So it's more of a reflection than a guide."
Chaos beamed. "Exactly~! It mirrors her instincts, her ambitions, her chaos—and magnifies it to perfection."
They snapped their fingers, and the projections condensed into a single silver-black sigil, pulsating with raw energy.
"The System isn't meant to lead her—it's meant to keep up with her." Chaos's smirk turned razor-sharp. "And given what my dear daughter is capable of, I'd say that makes it the most dangerous system ever created."
Death exhaled, shaking her head with a low chuckle, her giant hat moving with the movement. "You always have to do things your way, don't you?"
Chaos placed a hand over their heart, feigning offense. "Would you expect anything less from me, dear friend?"
Death rolled her eyes but couldn't suppress her amusement. "No, I suppose not."
She tapped a finger against her chin. "And you're sure she won't ever realize she's not actually dependent on it?"
Chaos smirked. "Oh, she will—and that's the best part." They leaned back, silver-black mist curling around their fingers. "When she finally chooses to discard it…"
Their eyes gleamed.
"That's when she'll reach true divinity."
~☆~
The two Primordials were discussing their plans on how to mess with Time again, when the wave of energy hit, Death froze mid-lounge—her violet eyes widening, nostrils flaring like a predator catching the scent of fresh blood.
A beat passed.
Then she leapt from the couch with unnatural grace, her dark scarf flowing behind her like living shadows.
"Oooh yes," she purred, a delighted grin splitting her face. "That's the stuff."
She threw a fist into the Aether itself, a pulse of her essence crashing outward like a silent thunderclap. "My Cutie went on a killing spree."
Her voice was practically giddy.
The very concept of finality vibrated through her bones—an overwhelming, concentrated abundance of death, so pure and unfiltered that it sang to her very being.
Chaos, still lounging in their usual mess of curled mist and comfort, simply chuckled—low, amused, and smug.
They, too, had felt it. A surge of raw, untamed chaos, twisting through the very heart of that world.
And the source?
Their beloved daughter. Their Blessed. Their walking embodiment of unpredictability.
They exhaled a single laugh, shaking their head fondly.
"Ah, she's getting creative~"
But they didn't move. Not yet. No need to. The threads of fate were already spiraling beautifully. The world didn't know it was unraveling—yet. And they wanted to savor the anticipation.
Meanwhile, Death was already reaching for her scythe, the long obsidian weapon sliding into her grasp like an extension of her will.
With a delighted spin, she slung it across her back, twirled once in the middle of the void, and threw a wink toward Chaos.
"I'm off. Someone has to congratulate the girl for painting the town red."
Chaos smirked, waving lazily. "Give her a kiss on the forehead from me~ And maybe a snack."
"Already packed cookies," Death called, grinning wildly.
With a gleeful cackle, she vanished in a pulse of black-violet energy, following the scent of death and destruction like a moth to the flame.
Chaos remained still, swirling their fingers in the mist.
"...She really is the best thing I've ever made."
~☆~
Hespera Eveningstar hadn't exactly planned on a killing spree.
Really, she hadn't.
But as she stood there—soaked in blood, her black and white katana Pandemonium Noctis humming softly in her hand, crimson dripping in lazy trails from its gleaming edge—she couldn't help but blink down at the carnage around her.
A hundred or so fallen angels lay scattered across the ruined earth, their bodies twisted, broken, some still twitching as if death hadn't quite caught up to them yet.
And all she could think was:
Just five minutes ago, I was enjoying a crêpe in the park with Mom.
Her expression was calm. Almost bored. A smear of blood had splattered across her cheek, drying in a sharp contrast to her otherwise pristine features. Her silver-streaked hair fluttered lazily in the breeze, barely touched by the violence she had unleashed.
"Noctis," she murmured, her voice sweet and contemplative, "remind me again how this started?"
They planned on capturing you, Mistress, the blade replied dryly.
Hespera's lips curled into a faint, amused smile. "Ah. Right."
So maybe it was premeditated. Surprise, surprise.
They had been annoying when trying to grab her.
And they had threatened her mother when she refused to cooperate with their silly demands. '"Come with them, or else," they said. Hmph! Who would willingly go along with them when they clearly had no candy or sweets? Everyone knows the best way to lure people in is through sweets. Such idiots!'
That was more than enough reason for this outcome. "But to think they were stupid enought to try to capture me in broud daylight. And with no treats no less."
She took a step forward, boots squelching against blood-slicked stone, and exhaled a slow, contented breath.
"Mmm~ Next time, I'll finish my crêpe first."
Just then a faint shimmer sliced through the air, vertical and smooth, before expanding outward like ink bleeding through paper. The edges crackled with the eerie chill of inevitability, a chill even Hespera paused to acknowledge.
From that scythe-shaped portal stepped a tall, lithe woman draped in shadows and grace.
"Oh~"