The meeting with Alice and Lisa ended as abruptly as it began. A few polite words, a bow, and they disappeared into the crowd — noble grace wrapped around them like a cloak.
Micron was still muttering to himself about "big names" and "political headaches," but Xenos's mind had already drifted elsewhere.
Something prickled at the edge of his senses.
A ripple.
Like the sound of laughter in a dark room you didn't know you were in.
Xenos stopped mid-step. Micron bumped into him.
"What now, master?"
"There's… something." His voice was flat, eyes narrowed. "Not here. Farther. Another city."
Micron groaned. "Can we not? I just ate. And my coin purse is already—"
"It's not a request."
Micron sighed dramatically. "Fine. Where are we going?"
Xenos tilted his head, listening to something only he could hear. "…Khalvere."
"Never heard of it."
"You will."
Before Micron could ask more, Xenos simply grabbed his shoulder. Space folded — not like a door or a tunnel, but like the world itself had been tricked into thinking it was somewhere else.
The air snapped, and they were standing in Khalvere.
The city was wrong.
From a distance, its walls and towers had the shape of something human-made, but up close the stones seemed too smooth, too seamless. The angles hurt the eyes if you stared too long. And the air… it was thick, almost humming with an invisible vibration.
Micron instantly hated it. "Why is the wind warm but the shadows are cold?!"
"Because something here is bending the rules."
They walked through the streets. The people looked normal — mostly — but their eyes twitched too often, and they spoke in half-finished sentences, as if their thoughts were being stolen before they could finish them.
A merchant selling fruit turned toward Xenos with a smile that didn't quite fit his face. "Beautiful day, isn't it? The sun has teeth."
Micron froze. "The… sun has teeth?"
The merchant just kept smiling.
Xenos kept walking. "Don't talk to them too long."
It took them less than ten minutes to reach the center of the city — a plaza dominated by a black obelisk, its surface crawling with faint, moving patterns that shifted when you tried to look away.
The ripple in Xenos's senses deepened into a voice.
It didn't speak in sound — not exactly — but the words arrived in his mind like someone whispering directly into his skull.
Lightbringer.
Micron noticed Xenos had stopped and was staring at the obelisk. "Oh no. What is it now?"
The air around the obelisk began to twist. The patterns slid faster, pulling themselves into a shape — first a tall man with dark skin and sharp, intelligent eyes. His robes shimmered like heat haze, and his smile was perfect, too perfect.
"You came," the figure said, his voice smooth as oil. "I was beginning to wonder if you'd forgotten me."
Micron frowned. "Uh… do we know you?"
"I know you, little mage." His gaze shifted back to Xenos. "And you… I know far better than you think."
"Nyarlathotep," Xenos said evenly.
Micron blinked. "…What kind of name is that?"
The figure chuckled. "A name older than your tongue. You can call me the Whispering God, if it makes you feel safer."
Micron stepped back. "I don't like how he talks."
"You shouldn't," Xenos replied.
The crowd in the plaza had gone utterly still, their eyes blank, all facing Nyarlathotep. The godlike figure gestured lazily, and a woman in the front row began laughing uncontrollably, the sound jagged and wrong.
"I have no interest in your mortal games, Lightbringer," Nyarlathotep said, stepping closer. "I came to remind you — the Outer Gods still watch. Even here. Even in this little… side reality you've found yourself in."
"You came here to threaten me."
Nyarlathotep's smile didn't change, but the ground under Xenos's feet shuddered. "If I wanted you gone, I wouldn't need to threaten you."
"Then why bother?"
The god tilted his head. "Because you're interesting. And because if you keep meddling, you might accidentally wake someone who will make even me look merciful."
Micron whispered, "Uh, master? What's he talking about?"
"Nothing important."
That earned him a genuine laugh from Nyarlathotep. "You haven't changed. Always pretending the warnings aren't for you."
And then — faster than Micron could track — Nyarlathotep moved. His hand, fingers long and too many-jointed, reached for Xenos's face.
The street fractured.
For everyone else, it might have looked like nothing happened — just a flicker, like the sun ducking behind a cloud. But in the space between instants, Xenos moved his hand and erased the reaching limb from existence. No wound. No severed flesh. Just… gone.
Nyarlathotep's smile faltered for the first time.
"Ah. You've remembered more than I thought."
"You talk too much," Xenos said.
The air folded inward. The plaza bent into an impossible geometry, forcing the crowd into kneeling positions without touching them. Nyarlathotep raised both hands, and the sky cracked — a yawning void spilling colors no human eye should see.
Micron clutched his head. "What—what is—"
"Don't look," Xenos said, stepping forward.
He didn't raise his voice. He didn't chant. He simply reached out and took Nyarlathotep's presence like one might snuff a candle.
The black obelisk screamed without sound as cracks webbed across its surface. Nyarlathotep's form staggered, features melting into a dozen different faces before shattering into nothingness.
The sky stitched itself shut.
The crowd blinked, dazed, and went back to wandering the streets as if nothing had happened.
Micron stared at the empty spot where Nyarlathotep had stood. "…Is he dead?"
Xenos glanced up at the now-still obelisk. "Yes."
"Uh… so what was that he said about—"
"Azathoth," Xenos interrupted.
"Right, and what's"
"Useless words. I'll look into it later. I'm hungry."
Micron threw his hands up. "You just erased a god and now you want lunch?!"
"Exactly."
Xenos started walking. Micron hesitated, then hurried after him, glancing nervously over his shoulder. The black obelisk was gone, but the plaza still felt colder than it should.