"Missiles incoming!"
Celestia's voice pierced through their earpieces, demanding their attention with razor-sharp urgency.
"You guys—think of something! Now!"
Her words crackled in their comms, pressure mounting, seconds slipping away.
Absynthe's eyes burned with fear, wide, unblinking. Her pulse hammered, her body rigid—frozen in the chaos.
Her mind raced, thoughts fracturing as she struggled to grasp what was happening.
What do I do?
The missiles—five incoming, screaming through the sky.Obsidion—lost, consumed, drowning in his own corruption.
Which mattered more? Which needed her first?
The soldiers ahead stood locked behind their protective defenses, bracing for impact. Their weapons trembled in their grip. They didn't know if the barrier would hold.
The roar of the missiles split the air.
Five missiles. Three targets. Who would it strike first? will we make it out alive?
"5 seconds before impact quickly! do something!" roared celestia herself once again!
Absynthe's intuition screamed at her, an unshakable force pulling her toward the answer.
Was she right? Could she trust this feeling?
Her heartbeat pounded against the silence, suffocating the moment in indecision.
Hesitate or act?
She doubted herself. Her breath—sharp, uneven—fractured with fear.
Her mind locked onto Obsidion's darkened form, twisted beyond recognition. A nightmare unraveling before her eyes.
Panic clawed at the edges of her thoughts. Her lungs hitched, her pulse rapid-fire, her vision blurring at the edges.
Then—she shook her head.
No.
She squeezed her eyes shut—just for a second—grasping for control.
And then, a flicker of memory.
Her small group of friends. Their faces blurred but familiar, steady, strong. A darkened blink, the past slipping through the cracks of fear.
"Do something!"
Celestia's voice cut through the spiral, the command sharp—urgent—piercing the walls of doubt.
The words echoed, fading, looping through the depths of her mind.
Her breath hitched—hacked—dragging her back.
Then—she snapped into reality.
Her eyes burned with final belief?.
Gravity unraveled, bending, twisting, shifting—neutralized around her in pulses of unseen force. She was weightless, untethered, suspended in the moment between action and consequence.
Then—Synthena gasped.
Her body lifted suddenly, limbs grasping for stability. "Whoa—what is this?!"
She twisted mid-air, flailing—not-so-gracefully—her mind racing to process the impossible.
Absynthe's voice cut through the chaos—a command. "Create a shield. Now!"
Synthena barely had time to react.
Her body spun unceremoniously, head dipping downward, legs hovering above—upside down, completely off-balance.
"Eek!"
A flicker of realization hit—her skirt threatened to betray her dignity.
With a startled gasp, she gripped the fabric, holding it in place with her left hand, red dust swirling, pulsing with energy.
Her right hand snapped forward, blue dust bursting outward, weaving protective spirals as she adjusted to Absynthe's gravitational control.
Absynthe never wavered.
She shifted the gravity around them, pulling backward, repositioning, securing their escape.
Synthena summoned the sphere, a shield of pure energy tightening, expanding, solidifying.
Absynthe controlled the gravity, guiding them through the battlefield— Suspended in an unnatural calm.
t
The missiles collided with Obsidion's engulfing black energy, the impact tearing through the corrupted mass.
And then—a scream.
Not his voice. Something else.
A faint face twisted within the swirling black dust, its anguish raw, unnatural shrieking from the depths of the corruption.
The air shifted—heavy, suffocating, wrong.
Fear bloomed across the battlefield, gripping the Overwatchers in uneasy silence.
Celestia's voice cut through the moment.
"This is only the beginning. I hope you two are ready for what comes next."
Absynthe and Synthena stood frozen, their gazes locked onto the nightmarish figure trapped within the black mass.
Anger? No.Fear? No.Confusion...?
Maybe a mixture of all three.
Synthena tightened her grip, red and blue dust swirling violently as she held her shield firm.
"We need to think of something—now," she declared, voice steady despite the turmoil.
Absynthe forced herself to focus. They had two choices: fight the corruption directly, or regroup before the battlefield collapsed entirely.
And then—the ground trembled.
The corrupted energy grew heavier, denser, pulsing with something unnatural.
Obsidion's form shifted, the swirling blackness cracking like fractured glass.
Through the swirling black mist, six glowing eyes ignited like embers in the void—piercing through the thick corruption as the entity began to take shape.
The shifting smoke twisted, coiling into an unnatural form, something unseen, something unknown, something that had never existed until now.
Then—three dragon heads emerged, their presence towering and unrelenting.
Each pair of eyes reflected the fragmented essence buried within Obsidion's corrupted soul.
✅ Red, drooping eyes—Sorrow – A weight of grief, a lingering past clinging to what remained of his consciousness.
✅ Gold, sturdy eyes—Resolve – A fleeting remnant of resilience, the last trace of stability struggling against decay.
✅ Green, terrified eyes—Fear – An undeniable truth—a part of him that still resisted, still fought, still knew what he was becoming.
The heads shifted, their expressions flickering between pain, anger, and something deeper—something unspoken.
a mighty form !
Was this truly him? Or was he already beyond saving?
****************************************************************************************
"Is that... what I think it is?"
Absynthe's breath hitched as recognition flashed through her mind.
A memory surfaced—familiar yet distant, tinged with nostalgia and sorrow.
Obsidion sat across from her, his gold eyes steady, unwavering, the soft hum of the outdoor ambiance filling the air around them.
They wore their high school uniforms, a time untouched by war and corruption—a rare era of peace.
Absynthe, quietly focused on her homework, let her gaze drift—her thoughts scattering for just a moment.
Obsidion noticed.
A flicker of curiosity crossed his face, and he asked—a simple, yet unexpected question.
"If you could be anything in the world—an animal or something more—what would you choose?"
His tone was lighthearted, yet there was a quiet weight beneath the words.
Absynthe tilted her head, her white hair cascading over her shoulders. "Um... I don't know...? Maybe a cat?"
"A cat?" Obsidion asked
"Yeah," she murmured, her blue eyes calm, yet carrying that ever-present sorrow."They're cute… and they just get to be themselves. No stress, no responsibility... It sounds nice."
For once, she looked peaceful—her usual tension fading into something softer.
Obsidion's face erupted in red, his nose exhaling a little too sharply. Was he flushed?
Did she say something that irritated him?
"W—well," he stammered, his voice flustered, uneven."I'd pick a Hydra."
Absynthe blinked. "A Hydra?"
"Yeah. A massive, majestic beast. Even though its thoughts are split into three, it still protects what it loves!"
His voice carried a conviction that startled her—something deeper, something personal.
Then—his face twisted in panic.
"N—not like that means anything, kitten—I mean—!"
Kitten? " Abby questioned
"Abby! I mean Abby!"
Before he could spiral further, Synthena and Travis appeared at his side.
"What's going on?" Synthena raised a brow.
"Hopefully not getting up to old antics again," Travis teased, arms crossed, watching Obsidion with the kind of smug amusement only a childhood friend could have.
Obsidion shot up stiffly, still red-faced, his embarrassment shifting into defensive aggression.
"Oh, shut up, Travyy!"
He mocked Travis's childhood nickname, voice dripping with retaliation.
Travis immediately snapped forward, their foreheads clashing in a heated argument.
"Heyyy—only Syn can call me that!!"
"Not anymore!" Obsidion shot back, his frustration morphing into childish bickering, their voices rising, their movements clashing.
For a moment—everything was normal.
A fragment of life before the war, before the corruption, before the impossible choices they had to make.
But that was then.
This was now.
And now—Obsidion was no longer just a boy dreaming of being a Hydra.
He is a Hydra!
*****************************************************************************
Absynthe's eyes blazed as a flicker of hope ignited within her, bursting like wildfire in the depths of despair.
She threw her voice into the storm, her cry ripping through the battlefield—raw, unshaken, absolute.
"I'm coming, Obsidion!"
Her warcry echoed through the collapsing gravity as she and Synthena defied its weight, breaking through the force that sought to hold them back.
Side by side, they charged forward, bodies weightless, determination unyielding.
Absynthe manifested her energy sword, the blade humming with power as it extended into the air, pulsing with raw intensity.
Synthena readied herself, red and blue dust swirling at her fingertips—an unstoppable force waiting to strike.
They flew together, their movements fluid, synchronized, unstoppable— A vision of might, victory, and unshaken resolve.