The air was thick with the smell of oil, smoke, and something far filthier. It was already morning. The sky was clear, with some clouds, but mostly clear. It didn't look like it was going to rain, and the heat was brutal. It was more than ninety degrees Fahrenheit, which didn't upset Nova; he quite enjoyed it, because for him, it was still winter. The amount of heat he had endured was infinitely worse than this minimalistic heat.
But at the same time, he had endured all that heat, while still being the God of Destruction, and now that he was mortal, he wasn't able to manifest his divinity, his previous role. So, the heat was now working on him, with a delayed response, as all his divinity was getting sucked away, and eventually, he was becoming a fully-fledged mortal.
Nova stood still at the edge of the alley, the box of kittens cradled in his arms. His robes, once stitched with threads of cosmic fabric, now hung in tatters, damp with alley disgust. Every breath he took in this new world was like inhaling rust. His face contorted with instinctive disgust. His lips curled, his brows furrowed, and his eyes narrowed at the mess of it all.
Boston, Massachusetts. A place so loud, so alive, yet so unaware of its insignificance in the grand scheme of the cosmos. Towering metal spires reflected the early morning haze, and streets buzzed with machines that hiccupped pollution, and people, so many people, rushed past one another like ants blind to everything beyond their next step.
Nova's feet, no boots, bare and raw, touched the cracked sidewalk. Glass shards sparkled in the morning light like cheap stars. A yellow taxi nearly clipped the edge of his robes as it sped by, the driver screaming something indecipherable. The language was the same, but the tone had evolved into noise.
"Pathetic," he whispered.
From inside the box, a soft meow interrupted his judgment. The tiny creatures, still nestled against the others, blinked up at him as if sensing his thoughts.
Nova blinked back
Of all the places he could have landed, the universe had thrown him here. A crumbling alley in a mid-tier American city, carrying a box full of lives more vulnerable than his own.
He stepped out fully into the street. Passersby turned their heads. Some slowed. Others stared outright. A man in a business suit scoffed. A teenager took a photo. A woman whispered something to her friend, nodding at the barefoot man in what appeared to be ceremonial robes, holding a box of kittens like a forgotten prophet.
Nova ignored them all. He walked toward the light, the sound, and the chaos of the mortal realm, not with pride, but with purpose; with excitement.
The kittens meowed louder now. Not in fear. Not in panic. Just need. Need for warmth, for food, for shelter. For something divine.
He kept walking. As he could do nothing else but walk. He was broke as shit. No money. No knowledge of this age's customs. No power. No plan. But for the first time in countless eons, he had something real to protect.
He looked at the box, still walking to Father knows where, smiling at the kittens.
He looked back up, and a loud horn blared past him, almost as if it were targeted at him. The city didn't move with mercy. Horns blared, left and right. Crosswalks screamed commands in cold, mechanical voices. Nova moved with the box of kittens pressed close to his chest, trying to remain unnoticed, though his very presence contradicted the glow of the world.
I wish I still had my omniscience, he thought, at least I would have been able to understand what all this means. The only thing left for my brain is just my battle experience and general knowledge, like math and science, not these new worlds written all over, that I have no memory of.
He stood awkwardly on a corner, observing the small glowing symbols flashing above doors, OPEN, CLOSED, FREE WIFI, as if they were primitive incantations. He passed glass buildings that reflected a version of himself he barely recognized. No glow. No aura. Just a tall, unshaven man in ragged robes and a wild expression.
Eventually, he came to a squat little café nestled between two soulless banks, its windows fogged from the warmth inside. The smell of roasted beans and baked pastries bled into the street. A few humans lingered at tables, eyes locked on screens, sipping drinks like it was part of a ritual.
Nova crouched beside the entrance, shielding the kittens from the cold. The world was loud, but here it was quieter, at least for a moment.
Then he heard a voice. A soft, fragile voice that resembled a woman: "Uh… hey. Are those… cats?"
Nova turned his head slowly. A woman stood a few feet away, coffee in one hand, a paper bag in the other. She looked to be in her early twenties. Curly hair tucked into a beanie, oversized coat, boots scuffed from use. Her eyes weren't suspicious; they were curious, concerned.
He blinked, not responding immediately.
She hesitated, then crouched down to his level. "Are they yours? They look young. Strays?"
Nova finally spoke, his voice formal and harmonically out of place: "They are not mine. They were... abandoned in an alley of vermin and filth. I retrieved them."
The woman raised an eyebrow. "Right. Okay. So, you're like... a rescue guy?"
"I am... no longer what I once was," he said flatly.
"Okay," she said slowly. "Well... here." She held out the bag. "It's just a muffin, but you look like you could use something."
Nova took it like it was a sacred offering, inspecting the texture, the scent, the temperature. He broke a piece off with reverence and tasted it. His eyes widened. He looked up at her like she had just offered him an artifact of power.
"You've never had a muffin?" she asked, amused.
"I have devoured suns," he said, mouth half-full, "but never this."
That made her laugh. "Alright," she said. "I'm Talia. And you are...?"
There was a pause. A long one.
"Nova."
"Cool. Is that your real name or a chosen name?"
"It is what remains."
She tilted her head. "Okay, Nova. You and your kittens wanna come inside for a bit? I volunteer at the shelter a few blocks away. But for now, it's warm in there, and legal. You kinda look like someone the cops would follow."
Nova glanced down at himself, then back at the kittens. One purred. Another yawned. Then he nodded once. "Lead the way."