Life looked surprised at the small group of children in front of him. He didn't expect them to be so young. No one was out of stripes yet. Why did the multiverse choose them? What was so special about them? Sure, they were from another multiverse, but they were children! They shouldn't have been involved in this thing. Children should be able to enjoy their youth. But now they were forced to grow up sooner, their mutations breaking out so much sooner than they should. He could see the moth child's magic already beginning to form another pair of arms. And it wasn't any better with the other children, he saw how their mutations were about to bloom and he hates it. If he could, he would have banned mutations long ago. He hated all the misfortune it caused, even if he never despised the original for surviving.
“Who are you?” asked the child with a bright red scar on his cheek. If he tried, Life could tell what mutation this child would get, he already saw the magic getting ready to form something on his head. But it wasn't in his right to say that to the children.
"I am Life," he introduced himself, feeling the primal part of his magic welling up in the child with the big hole, as if he saw him as more of a threat than before. "I'm here to help you control your Guardian Magic."
He saw the protest rising in one or two of the children, but the only mutated one sighed and looked at him critically. Nevertheless, he nodded and gave his consent. "Thanks for the offer. No matter how much experience I have, I wouldn’t know how to handle someone suddenly being able to create.”
“Don’t worry, we will make sure each of you understand the basics of your magic.”
Life watched as the children discussed quietly, but he smiled contentedly at them. Maybe while he helped them, he'll also be able to satisfy that little desire to have children of his own. Because Death refused to grant him this wish. Called it too dangerous. Still, it didn't diminish that desire.
And now he will use this wish to keep the children safe and let them grow up normally.
•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•
“This is torture!” groaned Killer as he collapsed onto the grass, exhausted. His clothes were full of dirt, as was his face. His knife landed on the ground next to him, the blade worn. They weren't special knives, but it still startled Killer how quickly he was working through his knives lately.
“You’ve gone soft.”
“Hey!” he shouted, offended, having heard exactly what Dust had said, even if he spoke so quietly. But they all felt the same way, each of them was incredibly exhausted. Life's training was hard and uncompromising, but Killer actually felt something change within him. It wasn't much yet, was it too early for that. But he feels it. That little surge of his magic whenever he was around others when they were happy. It actually made it clear to him what role he would play. And that made him excited because it meant he could finally understand how Nightmare must have felt, what it was like for him to constantly feel their emotions. They may be the opposite emotions, but it gave him peace to know that soon.
The only thing that bothered him about all this training was the fact that his tailbone and head constantly hurt, even though he could swear he wasn't hit there. Especially since it wasn't just pain that occurred. He kept feeling an itch on his bones, as if something would always bite him even though there was nothing. This had thrown him off guard a few times, as he had overlooked gaps to attack or had not reacted quickly enough to be able to dodge.
However, it wasn't just him. Cross, Dust and Horror, who were all training with him, also seemed to be constantly distracted, mostly scratching their heads and other body parts. While Horror focused more and more on his chest and the hole in his head, Dust seemed almost determined to expand his scars as much as he scratched them. Cross was the least likely to show such symptoms, excluding Error. Life didn't allow him to actively train yet. Not while his body was still injured. For this, Life very magically put him through the wringer and made him meditate for hours instead, just to force Error to rely less on his strings. Still, Killer didn't want to trade. He didn't have the patience to sit still for that long, nor did he want to learn a new type of magic. At least he didn't want to learn it that way. He learned much better through combat. Especially since he could see how much Error was struggling to use anything other than his strings.
A gentle weight settled on his chest, snapping Killer out of his thoughts. Sombra sat there, his two mismatched eyes, cyan a constant reminder of Nightmare, glaring at him. However, the many different dark spots made him different from Nightmare and somehow cuter. But his tail hit Killer's chest to snap him out of the spiral that was his grief for Nightmare. And soon Solar's wings wrapped around Sombra, the winged Bitty cooed and snuggled up to the other.
“Are you disappearing into the past again, Tiny?” Solar asked, and although his voice sounded amused, there was also concern in it. Killer was sure not many people would have noticed the concern. But it left his soul humming quietly, touched by the affection of these little creatures who had so discreetly crept into his world. It was unfair how important they had become to him. He knew that if he lost these two too, his soul would not recover.
"And again." Solar shook his head and Killer felt a gentle positivity fill him. God, he's really weak for both of them.
The calm that suddenly reigned within him made him slowly fall asleep. It was as if it was pulling him deeper and deeper. He fought against this sleep, it felt unnatural. He wasn't usually that tired after training, so why was he now? Not understanding what was going on, he wanted to sit up or at least ask the Bitties or Dust for help. But he couldn't open his mouth, couldn't move his body. Even the panic that was about to rise within him was quickly alleviated. There was just peace within him and this urge to sleep. And when he could no longer fight it, he heard a few quiet words that penetrated his consciousness.
“Don’t worry Tiny, we’ll help you.”
“You won’t feel any pain.”