The Genesis [Honkai: Star Rail Fanfiction]

Chapter 5: Echoes of Oblivion

Amidst this surreal tableau, a lone tear, stained crimson with the essence of battle, trailed down her left cheek, a poignant symbol of the conflict within her soul. Yet, despite the turmoil, a serene smile graced her lips, as if she had accepted her fate with a resigned tranquility.

With grace, she brought her sword down upon the male, the blade gleaming with a deadly elegance as it descended, poised to deliver a dance of death unlike any other.

Zephyr stood paralyzed, his senses ensnared by the overwhelming beauty and unfathomable power emanating from her being. In all his years, he had never encountered such divine majesty. To witness her presence firsthand was akin to dancing with death, a seductive invitation that only a fool would embrace willingly. Yet, Zephyr harbored no desire for an early demise, not when he had meticulously crafted plans waiting to unfurl.

A tinge of sorrow crept into his once-transfixed expression as he summoned forth his Weapon Archive—a symbol of his past conquests and his unwavering determination to survive. The cube, perfectly cubical and aglow with a dazzling blue light.

With a heavy heart and trembling hands, he raised his arms in a futile attempt to shield himself from his impending doom. Layer upon layer of defensive barriers materialized around him, a desperate gambit against the inevitable clash that loomed on the horizon.

As their weapons met in a blaze of fury, the chamber trembled with the force of their collision, echoing the tumultuous battle raging within Zephyr's own soul. Though fear gnawed at his heart, he stood firm, his resolve unyielding in the face of overwhelming odds.

*Crack!*

*Shatter!!*

The fortified shield conjured by Zephyr's 1st Primary Power, The Weapon Archive, shattered catastrophically, not only dispelling the shield itself but also obliterating every cherished weapon he had diligently stored within its confines. In the monochrome realm commanded by the harbinger of demise, Zephyr encountered a terror more chilling than death itself.

A deep gash cleaved through his chest, unleashing torrents of crimson blood from the newly hewn wound. As he sank to his knees, gasping for precious breath, his efforts yielded only the bitter tang of his own blood flooding his senses. Though he invoked 'Heal' the wound resisted closure, or perhaps he found himself incapable of healing any longer.

Before the initial collision, Zephyr was aware that any countermeasure he devised would be effortlessly nullified by her formidable power, and with Penacony's ominous presence looming too near for comfort, he found himself cornered with no recourse but a final, desperate gambit. Channeling the amalgam of his Primary Powers into the shield, he melded the ability to adopt the properties of anything in existence, 'Rupture' with the capability to manipulate matter at its most fundamental, 'Disrupt' merging them with the Weapon Archive to create a barrier shielding him from the devastating force unleashed by a mere stroke of her blade. Though he yearned to vocalize his agony, his voice betrayed him, allowing only a deluge of scarlet to escape his lips.

Zephyr knew he couldn't die here, not so quickly. He disregarded his body's current conditions as he stood upforth facing the beauty and the beast that stood before him in an ever so graceful manner. A soft chuckle erupted from his bleeding mouth as he shakily brought his right arm forward.

"...Y-you....My....turn..."

The space above Zephyr's outstretched hand convulsed, contorting in on itself with voracious hunger, consuming the very essence of the surrounding air. From this tumultuous void emerged a blade, eerily reminiscent of the Emanator's weapon. Every detail of its hilt and scabbard mirrored that of his adversary's, save for one stark contrast: where hers bore a regal purple hue, his were etched in the deepest shade of obsidian, the waved markings a testament to his defiance against the encroaching darkness. Upon seeing the sealed blade of his the female's eyes widened with confusion and shock.

"You...r...Na..ught...Mi-ne...Verity..."

With a swift, fluid motion, Zephyr unsheathed the blade from its scabbard, the blade pitch-black in colour, and in that singular moment, transformation seized him. His once-grey locks of hair cascaded into a void of pitch-black. Where once his eyes gleamed with the frigid hue of platinum, they now shimmered with the profound depth of navy blue, betraying an unwavering resolve that transcended mortal comprehension. As his hands extended, pale and pristine, they underwent a metamorphosis, morphing into obsidian-black energy that reached up to his elbows.

In the realm that had once danced with stark contrasts of crimson and black, an all-encompassing grey now reigned supreme, a tapestry devoid of the truths and lies. The chaotic energies that had surged through the air were supplanted by a serene calm, emanating from Zephyr himself, a beacon of tranquility amid the turmoil.

Within his own monochromatic world, Zephyr casted her a bloodied smile, a silent challenge in the face of impending oblivion. Summoning the last vestiges of his fading strength, he executed a swift slash that cleaved through the very fabric of existence with flawless precision. The world of grey that had encroached upon her domain shattered into a million fractured pieces, reality itself trembling and fracturing like delicate glass.

As the remnants of the shattered world began to coalesce, the Aeonic power that had elevated the female to divinity recoiled, stripped away as she was forcibly returned to her original form, her divinity a distant memory. The nihilistic power that oozed out of her now dissipated, its malevolent influence waning with each passing moment.

Along with her, Zephyr's essence surged back to its original form, the ephemeral facade fading into the blade from whence it came. A fresh wave of blood seeped from his wounds, staining the ground beneath him, a grim testament of his boldness and selflessness. With eyes fixed upon the one who had ensnared his mind and soul in her ethereal grasp, he mustered the last remnants of his strength.

In a feeble whisper, barely audible amidst the chaos that surrounded them, he uttered his own name, a poignant reminder of the identity he had fought to save.

"Z...ep...hry."

*Thud!*

And with those final, laboured syllables, his bloodied form succumbed to the accumulated intolerable pain, collapsing to the unforgiving floor with a hollow thud. In that fleeting moment, his body now laid there lifeless.

"....Acheron"

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To Be Continued!