Atachi One

Far from Terra, beyond the worlds, where space is draped in merciless darkness and universes are but insignificant sparkling fragments, chaos reigns supreme. In this place where war and desolation rule, the peoples, in their infinite diversity, gather, summoning the strength and courage within them, to face a threat of another kind—a nightmare incarnate.

Barbatéos is there, the sheer absurdity of his existence making space tremble, and no one can look away from this figure of personified cataclysm. His humanoid silhouette seems to embody the abyss; his volcanic, pulsing, flawless body exudes a force both primitive and divine. His head, a skeletal skull crowned with horns as terrifying as they are mesmerizing, boasts a draconic jaw. And his eyes—two demonic voids—are portals leading to boundless malevolence.

Today, once again, he subjugates entire universes as if they were mere chessboards under his grip. Before him now stands an innumerable army, a living ocean of quintillions of warriors from every race in this universe, united in a final desperate effort to end the conquests of the Devourer.

A war admiral steps forward to challenge Barbatéos. His voice resonates through space, imbued with trembling courage, defying the wrath of this ultimate predator.

Admiral-"Barbatéos, you may have conquered this universe, but we will not bow to the illogic of your conquests. Together, we will defeat you. You are a threat to all peoples in all universes. We will prevent the darkness that harbors you from spreading further into the great cosmos. People of the universe, arm your souls with the greatest strength of determination, and let us bring down this monster!"

A rumble rises then, and countless rays of cosmic energy converge, combining into an explosion of power that seems ready to pierce the darkest point of the universe. But Barbatéos remains unmoved, simply absorbing this maddening force without flinching. A sensation of emptiness, like an insatiable void, overtakes him. He feels nothing but his own hunger.

Barbatéos"I'm starting to get a bit hungry. Perhaps the scale of this universe will satisfy my appetite... for a moment."

The insatiable famine of the conqueror drives him to ravage the soldiers attempting to defend their territory. None stand a chance of fully perceiving his fury, let alone containing it. They all fall, annihilated in a matter of seconds, their souls joining in a crackling wave on the battlefield, which becomes the hunting ground of an omnipresent predator.

It is time for this universe to suffer the common fate of those who possess only the strength to kneel before the Devourer. Then, he exerts an insane gravitational force, pulling galactic clusters, lifeforms, abstract concepts, and entire dimensions toward his being. The feast is drawn to him, and he delights in a snack he finds rather satisfying.

He moves before this singularity, trying as best as he can to impose a fictitious authority on Barbatéos, though nothing can sensibly affect him at this scale. He enters the source of the universe to evolve. But as he merges with the matrix of this universe, a shadow emerges: an old man, the universe's last hope, strikes Barbatéos with a direct blow. The impact, infused with pure force, propels the Devourer out of the singularity.

Stunned by this audacious act, he temporarily halts the absorption of this shell, the absurdity of the intervention irritating him.

Barbatéos- "I was well aware that some are born with intelligence comparable to livestock, but you have impressed me. You must be a petty deity of no real importance. I am in a relatively good mood right now; flee while the opportunity presents itself."

The insignificant deity is unafraid, likely unaware of who stands before him.

Deity-"You greatly disappoint me, conqueror. You allow yourself to kill all forms of life in the universe while being the only selfish one to survive? I will strike you down on the spot. You eat only because they allowed you to. You are not truly free yourself in the end."

These words traveled through space like a monotonous cry, reaching Barbatéos, who remained impassive. However, a flicker of anger was born in his eyes, as icy as the interstellar void.

Barbatéos- "It seemed to me," he said in a cutting tone, "that I had graciously given you the chance to continue your pathetic existence. Your trembling voice compels me to rip your life away without mercy. Each of your words is the echo of fragility waiting to be shattered. If you have not understood the gravity of your words, rest assured that I will teach you."

Gripped by fear, the deity felt the overwhelming presence of Barbatéos, an aura so devastating that even its breath seemed consuming. Driven by an irrepressible survival instinct, he tried to flee, projecting his body far from this titan. But, like the predator he was, Barbatéos materialized before him, closing his powerful hands around his chin with devastating authority.

Barbatéos-"Where are you going? My meal cannot depart so quickly, except when I decide to finish it. I consume whatever I desire."

His head enlarged, consuming the deity in the vast diversity of nutrients it could provide. He then returned to the center of the universe, merging with the source. He opened a portal, revealing the colossal mothership. A structure of unimaginable size, its entrails extending across dozens of entire galaxies. The guards prostrated themselves before Barbatéos' return, chanting his glory in unison.

Guard-"The Lord Barbatéos has returned!!! Long live Barbatéos!!! Long live Barbatéos!!!"

But within this allegiance, a softer, more calculated voice was heard. Vemolia, his brother-in-arms, stepped forward, a calculating smile on his lips.

Vemolia-"You have finally returned. You've made some progress, my brother. Time is pressing. Our Master wishes to meet you. It is a matter of importance you cannot afford to neglect."

Barbatéos, walking past the rows of warriors bowing to show their adoration, made his way without a word. He entered another dimension. There, a being made entirely of irregular dark matter, with immense musculature and inhuman striations, awaited him.

Barbatéos, passing through rows of warriors bowing to display their adoration, moved forward in silence. He entered another dimension. Awaiting him was a being entirely composed of irregular dark matter, with immense musculature etched with inhuman striations.

Vemolia-"It took you long enough. Did you have trouble subduing the weak?"

Barbatéos-"Does your immaturity never cease to linger in the depths of your soul?"

Vemolia-"Do you think my so-called immaturity led me to become the Master's right hand? The Master wishes to meet with us to discuss the next phase of the plans for acquiring the great world. There's no need for us to argue—we'll have plenty of time for that later."

Barbatéos-"I hope that since the last time we met, you've learned to keep your promises. The fact that the Master has decided to speak with us is excellent news, my brother. He's probably still training in his personal dimension, I presume. Lead me to our lord, please."

Vemolia-"Follow me. He's waiting for us, and he's granted us the honor of his precious time. Let's make sure he doesn't kill us for being too slow."

Barbatéos' brother sliced through space with a perfect motion, connecting their realm to the Master's. He led Barbatéos into a chamber where the Master stood behind a veil, obscuring both his identity and his enigmatic appearance. Both of them knelt before the divine being.

Master-"I've been expecting you. The conquest of the worlds is progressing marvelously. I'm pleased that you've started taking it more seriously. Your people remain under my jurisdiction as long as you carry out my orders. They are safe because I am their protector. You seem to have made great strides in the past decade."

Barbatéos responded, his tone carrying a subtle insolence:

Barbatéos:

"I thank my lord for noticing. May I ask the reason for our presence in your company? And how fares your training, my lord? Is it yielding sufficient results?"

The Master did not bother to conceal his irritation.

Master-"Do not presume to speak to me in such a manner."

Barbatéos' body was abruptly seized, compressed by an unknown and merciless force. An excruciating torment spread through every fiber of his being, unrelenting and infinite. Meanwhile, his brother lowered his head violently, striking it against the ground, his voice trembling with humility as he pleaded:

Vemolia-"Please, Master, spare my brother. Perhaps he is not fully aware of his actions."

Barbatéos' agonized screams were unbearable, a harrowing sound that tore through Vemolia's resolve and reminded him of his own subservient status. The Master raised a dispassionate hand, and with a simple snap of his fingers, Barbatéos' existence was extinguished. His body exploded violently, casting an ocean of crimson blood onto the floor. Then, silence fell, heavy and absolute, as though the entire universe had held its breath. But in that moment, Barbatéos was resurrected—whole once more but mute with shock, unable to utter even an apology.

The Master broke the silence with a languid voice:

Master-"Come now, don't be concerned. I'm not that sensitive. That was just a little joke, a return for your impudence, which grated on my ears like a dull screech. But let's move on."

Vemolia, stunned by the Master's response, hastily interjected:

Vemolia-"Thank you infinitely for your mercy. Your great and boundless benevolence is unparalleled."

The Master, unfazed by Vemolia's flattery, continued with a detached tone:

Master-"Commander Keryt embarked on a reconnaissance mission to a planet affected by dimensional fractures. These fissures open pathways to a new category of worlds—realms, smaller than the universes we usually dominate. This presents an opportunity the Organization cannot ignore. However, your commander perished during his mission. I will show you the recordings of his two battles."

With a gesture, the Master projected Commander Keryt's memories. Barbatéos watched the battles—one against a being known as Titan, and the other against an entity called Atachi. He recognized Titan, but the other remained unfamiliar.

Barbatéos-"I know the identity of one who fell. I encountered him 156 years ago on the planet Hyperion. He was merely a child then, saved by the supreme deity Seturgya, who damaged my evolutionary factors. I bear the scars of that encounter. I conclude that Seturgya resides on the planet Terra. I will send a reconnaissance fleet to confirm my hypothesis. If it proves correct, I will personally conquer that insignificant pebble."

Vemolia-"But that human defeated Keryt, and Keryt was far from the weakest of our commanders. He could destroy vast swaths of worlds, yet this man humiliated him with alarming ease. I would never suggest he could defeat us, but we must tread carefully."

Barbatéos "I will follow my plan, but rest assured, my lord, I will conquer this universe in the name of the Organization."

The Master, raising an amused brow, responded:

Master "Vemolia, remain here. I have a true mission for you in another great world. As for you, Barbatéos, you may leave. I have transferred the details of your next mission. It should please you, as it involves your brother."

Barbatéos cast a fleeting glance of despair at Vemolia before leaving the chamber, while Vemolia stood unwavering before the Master.

Meanwhile, on Terra, the ranks of the Yorquin Rangers gathered. Members of Class A Alpha and representatives of the feared Class Z Omega held an emergency meeting to investigate the disaster caused by the energy column that nearly obliterated their world. Toscov, who had been closest to the dimensional portal, began the report solemnly:

Toscov-"I didn't see it coming. The explosion was caused by beings fighting within the rift—a battle in which humanity took no part but which ended with the actions of a stranger. I heard his voice. He let me hear it just so I would understand the chance he gave us by intervening. He saved us from that evil."

A Class A Alpha hero, intrigued by the existence of this stranger, spoke up:

Hero-"I noticed a figure appear behind you for a fleeting moment. In that brief instant, as I tried to identify him, not only was his aura overwhelming, but he was already gone."

Another hero asked Toscov, curiosity burning in her voice:

Heroine-:"What did you see inside the rift?"

Before Toscov could respond, a member of the Class Z Omega raid stepped forward. Through astral projection, he had ventured into the heart of the dimensional rift. His voice rang out:

Class Z Hero"I entered the rift by projecting my soul. What I saw didn't truly frighten me, but I've never witnessed dimensional destruction as violent as that. The being I faced was utterly extraordinary. I had the eerie feeling that a demon king was present amidst the apocalyptic ruins."

The Class Z Hero recounted his journey, describing the moment he confronted the overwhelming force within the rift.

Toscov, his gaze burning with unshakable determination, replied in a defiant tone:

"My sole purpose since the founding of the Yorquin Rangers Terra has been to become the ultimate hero, the one who could tread upon territories far beyond these pathetic worlds I've explored, places where one finally touches the authenticity of power."

A faint, almost nostalgic smile appeared on his interlocutor's face.

"But you're already a hero of great rank. What more do you want? The missions given to us by the Yorquin Rangers Terra are inhuman. When I first discovered that I had the potential to rise to the top, I was ecstatic at the idea of battling cosmic entities or trading in the deepest, most concealed corners of the cosmos. But in the end, I'm merely forced to protect humanity at the cost of heroes who will never get any rest."

Toscov frowned, his mind tormented by a question that haunted him.

"Then why do you keep expanding? Why not put an end to this endless spiral?"

The class Z hero sighed, his expression darkening.

"We were designed to incarnate into bodies obsessed with control, power, pleasure, and destruction. Our souls, meanwhile, have adapted to the species in which we take form. This isn't something we can easily rid ourselves of. Perhaps we're the strongest, yet we've become the most oppressed, crushed under the weight of our desires. This growing madness will stop only when death offers us the ultimate truth—the truth we've always sought. But we deprive ourselves of it to satiate our hunger to be the center of the world."

He conjured an imaginary being, a simple projection of the image Toscov had formed of the enigmatic Atachi: an energetic silhouette, faceless, almost ethereal, its absence palpable, a grandeur beyond reach. It exuded no visible aura, but its essence transcended physical presence.

Toscov stepped forward, his voice resolute.

"It's time to measure the extent of my progress."

A minute passed. The training chamber vanished in the heat of combat. The class Z hero contained the clash of both powers, but when the dust settled, only one remained standing. And it was not human. Toscov had been hurled outside the Yorquin Rangers Terra headquarters, somewhere on Terra. The fragile and insulting version of Atachi faded. Everything returned to its original state, as if the battle had never taken place. The projection dissolved into a dark, gray mist, disappearing without a trace.

Meanwhile, in Titan's father's palace

Titan returned, his hand clutching his chest, haunted by a terrible sense of helplessness. He lived according to the will and desire of a tyrant, never able to choose his own destiny. For more than two days, he had lingered outside his father's palace, too ashamed to face him.

"I am prey," Titan muttered, his voice tinged with bitterness, "fallible, no less. I couldn't even face a mere Terran—a creature of such an inferior race compared to the divine. Everything has a price. To become untouchable, impervious to their actions, to surpass their choices, and to achieve the independence that Atachi embodies... I admire him, perhaps too much."

He clenched his fists, his voice breaking.

"Father, I'm so ashamed to look you in the eye. I'm so tired of failing, of falling short. I want to be worthy of you. I want to be worthy of existing."

Inside the grand palace, Titan's father sat on his throne, waiting. For two days, he had remained there, unmoving, offering neither help nor solace. It was not his role to interfere with his son's introspection.

Finally, his voice echoed through the vast hall, calm yet unyielding:

"I am merely a passing presence in your life, my son. You must take responsibility if you wish to evolve without finding an end. This Terran you faced—I observed him during your foolish battle. He was not ordinary, indeed. I look forward to meeting him myself, to crossing paths with Atachi. Xavier will be thrilled when I present him with a warrior capable of reshaping the world's destiny."