The chapel stood in solemn silence, its once-grand arches now weathered by ti, the stained-glass windows fractured like forgotten dreams. Dust motes drifted lazily through shafts of pale light, settling on the cracked pews like a shroud over the past.
Raiden i stepped inside, her boots whispering against the worn stone floor. The air slled of old wood, damp earth, and sothing faintly dicinal—herbs, perhaps, or the lingering scent of candle wax long since lted away. She took a seat on one of the benches, her posture rigid, fingers curling against her thighs as if bracing for an unseen storm.
Aponia—the nun who presided over this place—approached with quiet grace, her movents unhurried, deliberate. In her hands, she carried a simple ceramic cup, steam curling faintly from its surface.
"Water," she said, her voice as soft as the rustle of parchnt. "Boiled."
A small, practical offering. The orphanage had little to spare.
i accepted it with a nod, her fingers brushing against Aponia's for the briefest mont. The warmth seeped into her skin, but when she raised the cup to her lips, the liquid might as well have been air.
Her sense of taste was gone.
Or perhaps she had simply forgotten how to feel anything at all.
At the chapel's entrance, a chorus of hushed giggles and shuffling feet betrayed the presence of small onlookers. Children—no more than five or six—peeked around the doorfra, their wide eyes alight with curiosity.
i was an anomaly here.
Her clothes—dark, sleek, lined with circuitry—were foreign in this world of rough-spun fabric and hand--downs. The way she carried herself, the way her gaze cut through the dimness like a blade, marked her as sothing other.
Difference was a magnet for attention.
"Layla, Anqi," Aponia called, her tone gentle but firm, "take the others outside. Our guest needs peace."
A collective groan rose from the doorway, but the children obeyed, their footsteps pattering away like scattered raindrops.
"Yes, Mama Aponia!"
i watched them go, her chest tightening.
Two days ago—or what felt like two days, though ti had beco an unreliable thing—Lingke had rewritten history.
He had erased her era.
And in its place, he had resurrected the Previous Era—a world that should have been lost to dust and mory.
In that mont of upheaval, i—along with everyone else dragged into this rewritten past—had glimpsed nonexistent mories. Fragnts of a life that never was, a future that had been stolen from them.
And in those fragnts, she had seen Lingke's true design.
"You want to save your era?" his ghost seed to whisper in her ear. "That 'nothingness' you call the Current Era?"
"Then first, you must destroy the 'second chance' of the Previous Era."
"After all… if the Previous Era still stands, where does yours belong?"
It was psychological warfare of the cruelest kind.
He had taken their convictions—their desperate hope to protect what remained—and turned them into hypocrisy.
He had made salvation and destruction two sides of the sa coin.
And worst of all—he had been right.
Once, Lingke had been kind.
Once, he had been the sort of person who would reach out a hand without hesitation, who would smile even when the world was crumbling around him.
But now?
Now, he had shown them all what happened when kindness was twisted into vengeance.
He had beco a demon clad in the guise of a savior.
And he had made sure i and the others would carry the weight of that truth with every step they took in this reborn world.
The children's laughter echoed faintly from outside.
They were alive.
They had a future.
And i—
i had no answer.
No solution.
No way to reconcile the war inside her heart.
She doubted anyone else who had been dragged into this era—save for Otto, that ever-unreadable scher—could answer it either.
A long silence stretched between her and Aponia before i finally spoke.
"Aponia… ma'am."
The nun tilted her head slightly. "Just Aponia is fine."
i hesitated. They were strangers, technically. But Aponia had already dismantled that distance with effortless grace.
"...Alright. Aponia."
Formalities had never been i's concern.
She considered introducing herself, then dismissed the thought. Unlike with Pardofelis, nas felt aningless here. Instead, she cut straight to the heart of the matter.
"Can you… tell where I co from?"
A test.
Aponia's gaze remained steady, her expression unreadable.
"A lost soul," she murmured, "severed from her holand. For now… wandering this world alone."
Her words were calm, almost detached.
Yet beneath them, i sensed sothing else—
Pity.
She bristled at it but forced herself to remain still.
One thing was certain, though.
"So even now, you can foresee the future."
For the first ti in days, a spark of hope flickered in i's chest.
She leaned forward slightly, her voice urgent.
"Then, Aponia…"
"Tell —how do I reclaim that lost 'holand'?"
Aponia did not answer imdiately.
The silence stretched, thick and suffocating, pressing against i's ribs like a vise.
Finally, the nun spoke.
"The path you already know… is the only path."
"But—!"
i nearly shot to her feet.
She rembered—
In those nonexistent mories, Lingke had done the impossible.
He had created a neighboring world, a space where the Previous Era could exist without relying on Herrscher power.
He had proven that two eras could coexist.
That even a destroyed world could be pulled back from nothingness.
He—
"...Right."
i laughed then, the sound brittle, humorless.
"He's the last person who would ever help ."
When she spoke the words aloud, they settled like stones in her stomach. Her shoulders slumped, the weight of regret pressing down on her until she could barely breathe.
There was no helping it.
In those mories-that-never-were, everything had been perfect.
Lingke had always accomplished the impossible with terrifying ease.
He had fulfilled desires like a god granting wishes—effortless, boundless, mocking.
He could have been their salvation.
But now?
Now, thinking of it was useless.
Nails could be pulled from wood.
But the holes they left behind would never truly vanish.
Just then—
"Lost traveler."
Aponia's voice pulled her back.
The nun's eyes held sothing unreadable.
"The answers you seek are not with ."
"The guidance our Lord can offer you ends here."
"Will you remain stagnant where you stand?"
"Or seize another's path?"
"These are your only two choices."
******
Raiden i left.
Aponia did not invite her to stay the night, and i had no intention of lingering.
She had another possibility to find.
Her footsteps echoed through the empty chapel as she walked away, her back straight, her resolve unbroken—
Even if her heart was anything but.
"Strange!"
From her hiding spot beside the chapel wall, Pardofelis frowned, her tail twitching in agitation.
She had watched the entire exchange between i and Aponia.
And sothing about it felt… off.
"Why's Nia-jie speaking like so kind of cryptic prophet today?"
[TL/N: I don't understand why in this fanfic pardo called aponia with Jie honorific]
Pardofelis had eavesdropped on Aponia's counseling sessions before. Though, admittedly, she'd been caught more tis than she cared to admit.
Normally, Aponia was direct.
Clear.
If anything, she preferred giving answers rather than riddles.
This sudden shift—
It didn't make sense.
Pardofelis chewed her lip, frustration mounting.
Then—
Giggle.
A sound.
Light.
Playful.
And utterly wrong coming from inside the chapel.
Pardofelis froze.
Every instinct scread at her to run.
But curiosity—damnable, insatiable curiosity—had always been her weakness.
Slowly, against her better judgnt, she peeked through the window—
And her blood turned to ice.
Colorful fish—impossible, luminous—swam through the air, their scales shimring like fractured rainbows.
And at the center of it all, Aponia sat in her usual praying pose—
Except her smile was too wide.
Too sharp.
Wrong.
"!!!"
Pardofelis ducked down, heart hamring.
That wasn't Nia-jie.
Then who—?
And where was the real Aponia?
"Ah, doesn't curiosity kill the cat?~"
A singsong voice, dripping with amusent.
"Liiittle Paaaardoo~"
Pardofelis' breath hitched.
Her body locked up, every muscle coiled tight with primal fear.
Then—
A shadow fell over her.
She didn't dare look up.
But she could feel him.
The presence looming above her, silent, inevitable.
The scent of freshly cooked food—at, spices, warmth—filled the air, so painfully normal it made the mont even more surreal.
Step.
Step.
Step.
He crouched in front of her.
A hand rose.
A finger pressed to his lips.
"Shhh."
Pure instinct had Pardofelis clamping both hands over her mouth, her entire body trembling.
She didn't dare make a sound.
Didn't dare breathe.
The young man smiled.
"Good girl~"
His voice was warm.
Affectionate, even.
Like praising a pet.
Then—
His hand settled on her head.
And in that mont, Pardofelis understood sothing fundantal.
There were creatures in this world that stood at the very top of the food chain.
Predators with no natural enemies.
No equals.
And as his fingers gently stroked her hair, Pardofelis realized—
She was looking into the eyes of an apex predator.
Her body locked up.
Terror flooded her veins, sharp and paralyzing.
She couldn't move.
Couldn't speak.
Could only sit there, trembling, as her vision blurred with unshed tears.
Her lips parted in a silent plea.
But no sound ca out.
And the young man—
He only smiled wider.
Amused.
Delighted.
At how scared she was.
[TL/N: Poor pardo 😭. anyway please give so recomndations fanfic. either hoyoverse, or ani-mix like akikan fanfic]
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