Elsword Imagines~

He shook his head, landing on the ground besides them as they opened the door. They saw Sdeing, Steel’s father on the other side of the door. The image overlapped with his own father who they last saw in the Temple of Trials.“Wonder Wall!” He shouted, calling forth a shield for his friends. It would at least protect them from the full impact of Sdeing’s hammer. Instead, he was struck with an odd sense of unease. Looking at them, they all fiercely attacked Sdeing, only evading his attacks when need be. His shield protected them from time to time but that wasn’t what they needed. What they needed was more power.“Chung, don’t just stand there! Be careful!” Elsword shouted at him as he ran to his side. Chung snapped out of his thoughts, “Right!”The battle against Sdeing was short-lived but it still didn’t give them too much trouble. Chung thought of how he wanted to protect his friends, to protect the innocent, but would that be enough?He looked up at the backs of his friends who grew farther as they walked their own ways in the village. He already had enough power using his Destroyer, maybe something more?-

The thoughts of a stronger weapon went in the back of Chung’s mind as they entered Elysion. There was no time to think about to master a weapon. Even if he suffered. Even if the weight of the destroyer grew heavy in his hands and his guardian stone grew dimmer with the weight of his resolve weakening, he paid it no mind. Even like this, he still had to try his best to protect his friends. Even if he was falling behind, even if he had to work harder and taste the tears of frustration each time they returned to the town after a day’s battle.“Chung.” Chung lifted his head to watch Elesis sit down beside him.“Elesis, is there something wrong?” He asked, his voice breathy. Elesis looked at the distance.

“The others has been worried, you know. You’ve been growing more and more exhausted after each and every battle.” Chung looked away to the side, ashamed that his friends would have to worry about him in addition to what they needed to do.

“I’m sorry, I… I’m just trying to sort some thoughts out.” Elesis was silent for a few seconds before she stood up.

“I won’t pry,” she said, “but know that we’re here for you no matter what Chung. No matter what.”

“I know.” Chung whispered, tears prickling in his eyes. He heard her footsteps as she left him.

He took a deep, shaky breath. What was wrong with him? He couldn’t just let this get to him. Although he did say to himself, he didn’t move from his place for a good hour and when he had to leave, the weight still remained.

-

“Where am I…? Is anyone there?!” Chung muttered to himself as he looked around. A white figure emerged in front of him and for a moment he saw himself. Chung steadied the Destroyer as the specter spoke.“Don’t go another step, Seiker.”Chung’s grip on his weapon tightened, “This is… my voice! How can…?”

The specter’s voice continued, feeding continuously to his mind as it charged at him. 

“What are you doing here? You need to save your father.” The weight of the specter’s own weapon was heavy against his own.

“You should understand that they don’t need you anymore.” It continued.

“Compared to them, you’re weak. You’re slow.” Chung flinched, as the specter pushed forward against his own.

“What use do they have of you?”

Chung gritted his teeth, pushing back, “They’re my friends!” 

“I will not abandon them!” He continued. The guardian stone glowed bright, compared to the dim light that it held the past few months. “It’s true that I felt like I was holding them back and I know that! They all want to finish the battles as soon as possible. I can’t fault them for that!”

“I just…” Chung took a heavy breath, his hands shaking from effort. “I just need to protect them better. If they’re fast, then I just need to be fast. If I’m weak, then I just need to get stronger. I can’t give up. I can’t give up now!”The guardian stone glowed bright, almost blinding as Chung shut his eyes and took the chance to leap back,firing a cannon ball blindly. Except his grip fumbled, he thought, as the cannon was lighter than it was. He still felt the pressure against his hand. It’s just… weaker.As the light died down, what he saw in his hands was a sleeker version of his destroyer, alongside with what looked like two guns slotted to the sides of the cannon.“Guns? What?” Chung looked closer, taking one of the guns to his hands. Right in time as the specter stood up, charging against him once more. In a rush of panic, Chung held out the gun and fired. The specter dissipated.

It felt like using the Destroyer, just smaller and more…lighter. No… He took the other gun and slotted his cannon at his back. The guns fit perfectly in his hands, like it was made for him.He fired once more, testing various ways to how he could attack. It was perfect. The bullets were made of magic, just like with the Destroyer. It bounced off the wall and Chung thought how it could catch some of their more intelligent enemies off-guard. A smile tugged at her lips as he looked at the guns in his hands. Did the guardian stone modify his Destroyer?

He shook his head. No matter what it is, he still had to practice this. He took off his cannon. His cannon was lighter and, testing the cannonball shots, it had more ammo…

“No,” he muttered to himself. “There are more cannonballs and there are guns but overall, the impact is weaker. I can’t use my normal attacks like this.”

The cannon felt too…feeble in his hands. It felt like it could break if he slammed it on the ground too hard like he did before. He put it on his back once again and held the guns in his hands.

It wouldn’t hurt if he practiced a bit more…right?

-

Time passed and his Freiturnier shifted alongside the change in his weapons. It became smoother, as if accentuating the speed as to which he started to move in battle. It was more black than white now. He still had to mix up his own attacks but slowly, it started to lean to using his guns.

He still protected his friends, even if they were surprised by the change in his attack style in such a crucial time. Add and Eve, in particular, were interested in the guardian stone but even he couldn’t provide a clear answer. Rather than protect them in the frontlines of battle, he shifted back in the shadows, shooting the enemies with frightening accuracy that even he couldn’t explain whenever it got too close. In the end, it’s like nothing changed. Rather than him protecting his friends from every attack, well, rather than him taking the attack, it’s more of preventing the attack.

He looked at the chrysalis before him, its tentacles jabbing at the ground. His mind didn’t waver anymore at the thoughts of the past where he could take all the attacks of their enemies, no, all it focused on was knowing where to hit and when to hit it.

Chung wouldn’t have it any other way.

As another light blinded them after the Chrysalis’s defeat, he stood face to face with the specter that had changed everything. It seemed to smile at him.

“It seems you’ve already found your answer but that’s not enough. You must release your true potential!”

If he was any younger, he would’ve wondered what he’d think if he knew that he’d turn out like this but he wasn’t.

“You’re right.” His resolve shone through the guardian stone but Chung only had eyes in the specter before him. “I can’t stop here!”

Rather than use his destroyer, he used the Silver Shooters, as he had grown to call it, to show that he won’t let himself be beat here. The wind blew, making his and the specter’s hair flow in sync. A testament to their shared past.

“Go. You know what to do.” The specter continued before vanishing with the light.

NSFW

These two are vanilla all the way, if they do this at all.

Sex is a foreign concept to both, who view it as mere ways of reproduction. They prefer cuddles and deep soul gestures of affection.

Sex between Erbluhen and Apostasia is slow and tender. Warm. So full of love it would make a lesser man puke.

Erbluhen because he is a cinnamon roll who just wants to smother Apostasia in affection and Apostasia because Erbluhen is one of the most precious things in the universe and must be treated as such.

They can be both top and bottoms.

Both prefers the foreplay to the actual play.

Erbluhen loves kissing Apostasia during sex; the lips, cheeks, shoulder, neck, thighs, anywhere.

Apostasia is especially… fond, of wrapping his lips around Erbluhen’s cock and gently sucking him off, and also stroke his ass prostate till coming.

I can’t believe I wrote that

Body worship galore.

They won’t reject the uses of cream to make their other half (haha get it?) more accepting of their penetration. Toys depend, but they aren’t interested in it.

Sex between this two is rare, again. 

(His comes in the form of the dimensional witch, Metamorphy.)

Metamorphy is probably the closest to an equal he will ever have. 

It’s different from the monstrous potential that has wrought the El Search Party tragedy again and again. Having absolute control over unmaterialistic concepts such as time and dimensions are a matter on a scale beyond one’s comprehension. 

It’s chaos. It’s madness. It’s death.

(Death is but a mere concept now, to the shattered creature that is Mad Paradox.)

Coming to a point where everything is coming to an end, where he finally looks and sees no end to the tragedy that Mad Paradox has become (that Mad Paradox causes), he meets her again.

The very sight of her makes his breath hitch, as the otherworldly flow of her powers gather like a hyperactive cocoon all over her.

Happy, beautiful, unbroken Metamorphy, who can command the very dimensions as if playthings, who has no need to use it like he does because she’s happy, this is her home.

She’s… not exactly fine (none of them have been since the start of their journey) but she. is. happy.

Looking at her makes something that might have been bitter, ugly envy pierce through the fog of obsession and longing, and wraps around his half-missing organs tightly. The very sight of her beaming smile makes his Mana flare in agitation, the cracking telltale of his power trembling and forming the beginnings of an aggression, before they are stilled again.

(There is a reason, after all, why this very timeline - the root of his pain and madness and tragedy - still exists. There is a reason why Mad Paradox, in other timelines, grants more mercy to the counterparts of certain people than he ever granted himself.

He didn’t stay his hand - they weren’t THEM - but their deaths were painless and quick. That’s more than could be said for other people.)

It still hurts.

(Envy. Jealously. Longing. Obsession. Hatred.)

Mad Paradox ignores her calls and curls into himself, tugging his hood completely over his head in a clear statement of “Leave me the fuck alone”.

Metamorphy’s smile, to those who knew her, fades a little. “So… a failure again?” She of course knows of his exploits. Knows of his dream. 

She also knows of how terrible he is, what a monster he has become. 

Metamorphy didn’t care about that though. (It’s been a long time since she has cared about the death of strangers, since she has felt grief and guilt.) Add had stopped going with them after obtaining his power, and left the Party in search of his timeline, but that hadn’t stopped the bonds and fondness nor the left out space always ready whenever the brooding, maniac time-traveler came back.

He’s different, Metamorphy thinks as she squats down with her skirt tucked in.  She ignores the way her power prowls dangerously, behind the façade of bubbles and sparkles and happiness (wHo HurT OnE oF hEr fRIenDs?). 

She doesn’t know what answer she expected (what enemy she was supposed to crush), but somehow, she’s surprised when Mad Paradox, after a long moment of heavy silence, curls into himself further and, with an air of despair and hollowness, tells her: 

“It’s not working.”

Metamorphy’s smile cracks.

“I can’t find her at all. I can’t go back. No matter how much I travel, how much I destroy, it isn’t working. It’s been so  many years since I started and it isn’t working at all.”

Ah.

She knows this voice. She knows this body language. She remembers it.

(All of them are broken, shattered; deadened shadows of the happy children they used to be.)

Add starts trembling, violent shivers wracking his tiny, vanishing frame, which starts breaking apart.

Metamorphy’s pupils dilate.

“I’m so tired.”

In front of the visage of one of her (tentative and most likely unwilling) friends, Metamorphy’s heart, for the first time in a long while, starts pumping for something other than excitement and joy.

(What is this feeling? What is this emotion? It’s not nice. It’s unhappy. It’s bitter. I must do something about it.)

She doesn’t hesitate.

.

.

“You punched me.”

“Haha funny abo-”

“You punched me.”

“…Yup~ It actually felt sort of good. You’re SO squishy-”

A pissed off Mad Paradox finds himself forcefully dragged off by a cheery Metamorphy off to some unknown location, his cheek still retaining cracks from where the taller woman had promptly punched him after witnessing his NOT-breakdown.

Metamorphy expertly ignores the death glowing in his eyes and whoops excitedly as they reach - somewhere. Glowing rocks, the el’s power brimming in the spiritual veins of the earth, ancient buildings…. There’s even weird machines on wheels, large constructs of wood, and other weird things.

“We are in one of the places where the dimensional rifts are the weakest. It’s not so bad like with the Demon Realm, but I often play around here.” Metamorphy explains. “All that junk are things that fell from the rips I randomly opened here. They are interesting, aren’t they~?”

A sane person would be worried over how Metamorphy was casually playing around with dimensional rifts. Mad Paradox is not a sane person.

Mad Paradox, momentarily distracted from his despair by his anger, narrows his eyes as Metamorphy goes rummaging in one of the buildings and pops up again with a bizzare doll of straw. 

No, that wasn’t straw. It looked more firm. Wood? Gum? An analysis confirmed it to be a material which had been bathed in different clashing energies.  

“Punch this,” she says.

Mad Paradox stares blankly.

“Punch this,” she repeats and shakes the object in his face, her beaming smile particularly attracting the urge for one to punch her. “You were– bored, right? Well guess what~ It’s time for you to partake in new stuff~~”

“I’m not a barbarian like you,” Mad Paradox says loftily, scathingly.

“You are a noodle,” Metamorphy smiles blithely against his blistering glare. “C’mon, children need start early-” 

“I’m not a fucking child, brat.”

“-to build themselves up into healthy young men. Now punch this, use your science stuff to help you with your punches, if you can’t do it-”

Here, she pauses. “If you think you’re too tired, then…” Her smile widens, “Why not take a break and try something different?”

Predictably, Mad Paradox takes none of her shit.

Also predictably, Metamorphy takes none of HIS shit.

(Metamorphy is probably one of the worst possible matches for him. The line between timelines and dimension is so thin, really.)

Both of them are stubborn, bull-headed people (monsters), but Mad Paradox is a tired and broken creature, and Metamorphy’s determination drives her to further heights. It doesn’t take long for Mad Paradox to give in and bend his rage on that poor, unliving thing. 

“Are. You. Satisfied?” 

“Nope.” Metamorphy tsk’s as the wormholes between time shears apart the training dummy (which had been glorified as Number One). “I said punch it. With your fists. Not… THAT.”

Sadly enough, no matter the terror that he inflicted as Mad Paradox, he had never quite gotten over the fragility of his physical state, and his body being reduced to half-constructed shards had only worsened that. 

It’s manageable, since he has always had his powers. But Metamorphy is one of the few people who can counter him. She cannot shut him down, nor really suppress him (likewise to her, to his consternation) but she proves an annoyance and hinders him, like a fly.

(A fly he can neither crush nor bat away,)

So, Mad Paradox turns to the science and technology that he hasn’t touched in a long time. 

(Nostalgia. Rememberance. Awareness. Has it really been such a long time since he started?)

It feels alien, with the difficulty of someone who hasn’t practiced in a long time. He had thought he had given up on his Nasod Research when he finally grasped the coordinates of timetravel, but somehow…. somehow looking at all the machines dumped at his feet by Metamorphy, looking at the codes that appear in his mind’s eye…

Something… stirs, inside him.

(Not yet. It’s not strong enough. Try again.)

He builds again. He constructs. And soon enough, the beginning prototypes of what will become the Nasod Armour are tested against the dummies (and Metamorphy herself, because Mad Paradox is a bitter son of a bitch).

He doesn’t particularly enjoy the activities forced upon him at first (but anything else than that empty madness is better), but soon, he can see why Metamorphy has taken a close approach to combat with her magic. 

The crunch of Not-wood beneath the pressure of his technology, the way he watches it break, the  way his prototype improves day by day, at an insane speed that is forged on by his obsession for perfection.

(It’s bizzare. It’s weird. It doesn’t eat at him, it doesn’t take pieces of him and swallow them whole. It’s… steady. Safe. Humane, almost.)

(Soon enough, Mad Paradox is not satisfied with just humane.)

But what cements his acceptance of this “hobby” of his is when the demons start arriving in this world, when the Henir cult starts stirring chaos, and very familiar people arrive in search of Metamorphy.

The fallen Prince. The Nasod Queen. The Brat #1.

For all he occasionally calls Metamorphy a brat, Elsword Sieghart has forever merited the main title of Brat in his head.

(The rips are opening in frequency. Dark El. Henir worshippers. Elrianode’s awakening. The chaos wrought by the rifts between Elios and the Demon Realm.)

(Are you coming with us, Add? The Brat asks, easy going smile plastered on his face. There’s no judgement in his eyes. There’s something in there, though, that makes Mad Paradox’s spine shiver and oh, oh, he now remembers why he left so hurriedly then.)

(He agrees.)

(He’s not doing it for anyone. He needs samples. Experiments. Living bodies.)

Attacking a breathing, comparatively alive creature is different from hitting the objects of Metamorphy’s stash. It’s significantly harder, but- but…!

It’s addicting.

Isn’t it curious how armour and crystal gives away to soft flesh under his attacks? Isn’t it fascinating? Isn’t it amazing?

He starts with the weaker test subjects, he starts improving his Armour, and starts relying less on his power of time travels (variables were unacceptable in his science). 

Watching destruction bloom underneath his fists and lives disappear with just a mere CRACK! is different.

Mad Paradox learns. Mad Paradox improves. Mad Paradox starts to live.

And soon enough, the shattered creature that is Mad Paradox becomes known by another name, in this timeline that had given birth to him.

Doom Bringer, is what they will call him.

(He’s still broken. His body is still half shattered. And the mark of the Mad Paradox will never, ever disappear.

But this… this is acceptable.)

.

.

Ever since he was a child, long before he became a slave, Add had always been particularly thirsty for knowledge.

That thirst for knowledge had become buried underneath the obsession for a past long passed, had been pushed aside in favour of unleashing destruction underneath the prompting of the Dimensional witch. That thirst wasn’t a thirst so much as a want for perfection, for control, for a way to defy fate in a way his battered, physically weak body had not been able too.

He is not weak anymore, but he hasn’t succeeded yet.

After the war with the Demon Real calms down (heavy casualties and destruction and a war-torn Elrios left in the aftermath), Mad Paradox Doom Bringer is faced again with the obsession that had plagued his entire life, with no insects or experimental subjects to take the brunt of his rage and madness.

The war is over. The demons have retreated. The El’s barrier is up and again.

However, after years of fighting in a timeline with the technology he had seemingly surpassed as Mad Paradox, he has been forced to reconsider the role of Nasod Technology in his goal.

The perfect Nasod Armour thrums within him, filling the cracks where organs and limbs are missing in an array of complicated codes that holds his body together. 

Maybe, he thinks, he has been going about it the wrong way.

Nasod Technology (and physical combat, but he was loathe to admit that to Metamorphy’s smug face) had helped him in various ways. It had solved most of his problems. 

Maybe, just maybe, it could also take him–

(Because Doom Bringer is Mad Paradox and Mad Paradox’s obsession is the past and not even death will change that.)

Doom Bringer, with no war to fight and no enemy worth enough to stand against his bloodthirst and full-on lunacy, throws himself fully into Nasod Research, like he had so long ago, in a blurry time when he had been a child who fell in the prison of the Ancient Library.

A result of such research is further improvement upon his Dynamos, which haven’t been used to shatter timelines in a long while. The new Dynamos are comparatively tame, less prone to death, but deadly all the same. They are configurated according to his whims and necessities.

An example is their individual fighting capabilities. Immersed and busy with his research, fighting has lost its catharsis to him and while he still thrives in the pleasure of crushing his enemies physically, he is far more conserned with research, thus he has no time to deal with small fry.

He eventually creates Apocalypse for this same purpose, but that is further into the future.

With his powers of timeline (defective, failure, dissatisfying), he bids (a very rude and violent) farewell to his original timeline and starts to gather knowledge everywhere in an attempt to craft a correct path. 

It’s improvement, he is pushing forward and it’s- it’s better. It’s working.

And of course, it fails.

(But of course, fate seemed to not want him to return to Mother no matter what.)

If there’s a terrible effect caused by his immersion into THIS, then it’s probably the state of his mind. Without madness, grief, hatred and rage clouding his mind, he realizes too late (again, again, again) of a miscalculation in his research.

It’s fatal enough that it promptly destroys all the other calculations.

He snaps.

It’s been a long time since any timeline has crumbled underneath his madness. When he comes to himself, his insides are lurching as the Nasod Armour tries to keep up with his body’s destruction.

Looking at the remains of a destroyed timeline, he can only feel numbness spreading through his entire being, a familiar madness and bitterness taking a hold of his mind as his Dynamo and Apocalypse rampage and destroy the physical representation of his failure.

However.

He recalls something.

(”Why not take a break and try something different?”)

He blinks slowly, as the memory of the witch flows through his head.

Try something different?

Becoming Mad Paradox had given birth to obsession and endless time paradoxes. 

Becoming Doom Bringer had smothered it with lunacy and bloodlust and war. 

What could he do, this version of him that wasn’t consumed by neither madness or bloodlust?

His Dynamo and Apocalypse stop without him saying a word, and fly to his side as he stares out at the endless abyss that surrounds him.

Slowly, but surely, life starts coming back into his expression. (It might have not been a necessarily good thing, all things considered, but who cared?) 

His shoulder start shaking, trembling.

Then, he starts laughing.

“Kuhuhu… I get it… I get it now…!”

In the end, where did the error started and where did it end? Was it when he became a slave? When Aster started his experiments? When he became Diabolic Esper? When he put aside his obsession to rampage through a wartorn field of corpses of demons?

Perhaps the error lies in his obsession itself. 

He is tired and done. No matter what he does, he is never able to travel back to that happy timeline. No one can understand time paradoxes better than he, and with a mind that isn’t completely fogged over with madness and possessing knowledge wrought by his research, he has no choice but to admit it, admit that he can never return, admit that his happy timeline has forever ceased to exist for him.

In that case…

In that case, wouldn’t it be better to create a whole new world himself?

His own perfect little universe, crafted from his own hands.

“Kuhuhu…I won’t give up… I will create my own world of perfection…!!”

Doom Bringer Dominator covers his face in an effort to stifle his not-quite-sane laughter, but there is no mistaking the wide grin spreading across his face.

.

.

The first time Rune Master calls Bluhen daddy, it was in the middle of hot, steamy sex. He didn’t mean to do it, it just happened. Bluhen was dominating in a way that made his toes curl and fuck before he knew it the word had slipped out of his mouth

The following days after that event had been awkward at best. Neither of them knew how to approach the other, feeling embarrassed about their reaction to it. It took a week before they sat down and talked about the kinks they’d like to explore, turn ons, turn offs and a safeword

The first time they decided to indulge in their kinks, Bluhen had called Rune Master his princess and since then, the name has stuck. He loves being called Bluhen’s princess, especially the nights when he’s stressed. Bluhen will make Rune Master submit to him, to take the stress away from him so the only thing he can focus on is Bluhen 

Arme Thaumaturgy:

Arme is always a top. When both his s/o and himself are tops, he rarely lets his s/o take charge.

He enjoys seeing his s/o’s facial expressions. Seeing the pleasure on their face is a major turn on for him.

“I’m not finished until you are.”

Erbluhen Emotion:

Erbluhen can be very vanilla.

When his s/o suggests something new, he always gives it a try. He’s not opposed to new things, he just prefers the classics.

“You’re perfect in every way, did you know that?”

Apostasia:

Apostasia is into choking. Hearing his s/o’s breathless voice is a turn on.

He’s afraid of hurting his s/o, so he knows just how hard to keep his grip for both of their pleasure.

I pushed the door with my shoulder as quietly as I could and pushed down the glee in delivering a morning breakfast to bed. I set the tray down at a nearby table and shook the lump.

“Oh, Dominator~ Breakfast is ready.”

“Mm…” The blankets shifted but the figure inside didn’t leave its comfort. I shook it harder.

“Breakfast is the most important meal of the day. If you slept for a few more hours, breakfast would turn into brunch, Dom, and you’ll have to eat a lot more.”

I heard more groaning before the figure promptly sat up, his bang covering his eyes and clothes messy. He ran a hand through his hair, letting me see that perfect view of his sleepy expression.

“Morning, [Y/N].” His words slurred a bit but still audible. I pulled the blanket off him and carried it with one hand, setting the tray on the other in front of him.

“I’ll be going to for a grocery shopping with [Twilight’s S/O].” I said while folding the blanket. “So, I’ll be out for the remainder of the day.”

I put the blanket down at the edge of his bed. “Just message me if you need something, oka-”

He pulled down on my hand, giving me a kiss. He looked at me like he always did, not as sleepy anymore and giving me a hard look. “You really shouldn’t hang out with her [S/O] so much. I could carry the bags more than he could.”