In the endless dark of the Void, where stars refused to shine and the air tasted of silence, hundreds of winged men and women hovered in quiet formation. Each bore wings that marked their power—two, four, six, or even more—feathers or bone, light or shadow.
Among them was Natsuko, a newly arrived initiate with trembling two-wing status. Her white wings twitched nervously as she tried to make sense of the gathering, her eyes darting between the towering figures surrounding her.
In her distraction, she bumped into someone—a wall of muscle and power wrapped in presence.
The man turned. He had eight wings—four majestic black-feathered ones, and four bone wings that curved like death given shape. His aura was heavy but calm. His eyes, one glowing blue and the other dim with ancient pain, met hers gently.
[Levi]: Ah—sorry, new one. I didn't mean to scare you.
His voice was soft, contrasting the sheer weight of his form.
Natsuko stepped back quickly, bowing her head.
[Natsuko]: S-sorry! I wasn't looking—
He held up a hand to stop her apology and smiled faintly.
[Levi]: No need. We all start somewhere.
He gestured toward a smaller gathering a short distance away—young-looking warriors with two white or gray wings of different kinds. Among them stood a tall man with four machine wings and hands as dark as obsidian.
[Levi]: See that one over there? The one with the black hands? That's Chumbucket—mentor of the two wings. He's strict, but fair. Stick close to him, and you'll live longer than your nerves expect.
Natsuko stared at Chumbucket, who seemed to be calmly intimidating even while sipping from a chipped mug that read "World's End, World's Best Blackthumb."
[Natsuko]: …Chumbucket?
[Levi]: Yeah. Don't ask about the name. He bit someone's soul once for laughing at it.
Natsuko blinked.
[Natsuko]: Oh.
Levi gave her a side glance, smirking as if to say Welcome to the madness.
[Natsuko]: Thank you, Senior Levi.
He turned his gaze forward again, his expression softening just enough to reveal the wisdom behind his terrifying presence.
[Levi]: Don't thank me. We may be from different worlds… different times… even different realities. But we all follow one truth here.
He raised a hand, fingers glowing faintly with Hollowfire, and pointed upward—toward the incomprehensible shape watching them all from above, like a shadow wearing stars as a cloak.
[Levi]: We follow the Grey Lady.
As if summoned by the mere whisper of her name, a ripple echoed through the void—subtle, yet vast enough to hush eternity itself.
Wings folded. Heads bowed. Silence fell—not the absence of sound, but a presence in itself, so heavy and ancient it felt like the universe holding its breath.
A seam split the air above them, slow and smooth as a blade through silk. No thunder. No light. Just reality, blinking like an eye that had finally decided to see.
Through that tear stepped Grey Walpurgis.
Her form distorted the very rules around her—a silhouette draped in a robe woven from star-thread and void scales, silver hair streaked with entropy, and a single horn spiraling upward like a sentence passed. Her wings unfurled behind her like broken constellations, trembling with power older than light.
She descended not as a conqueror or savior, but like a god relearning how to walk among mortals.
[Grey]: So. The new feathers have gathered.
Natsuko's heart slammed against her ribs. Her knees hit the ground instinctively, hands pressed together—half in respect, half in terror. Her wings trembled, not from weakness, but awe.
Beside her, Levi dropped to one knee with the ease of a man who had long ago surrendered everything.
[Levi]: They await your command, my lady.
Grey's eyes passed over the gathered assembly—not just seeing them, but measuring their truths. Newbloods. Survivors. Wreckage made whole in her name. Some glowed faintly with raw potential. Others flickered like dying stars.
When she spoke again, her voice was low, but it threaded into every soul present.
[Grey]: Some of you were chosen. Others… broken. A few dragged yourselves here through shattered dimensions and oceans of screaming light.
She raised her hand.
In it was a shard of something unnameable—pulsing softly like the last heartbeat of a murdered world.
[Grey]: You are Hollowborne now. My will… and my risk. I do not demand worship. I do not demand chains.
Her tone darkened—soft, yet cold enough to silence even Levi's breath.
[Grey]: You are free—until the moment you shame my name. Until the moment you call me god, and force others to kneel.
The void beneath them stirred—deep, endless, and filled with teeth. Something old and watching growled low, as if agreeing.
[Chumbucket]: Two wings. With me.
He rose, mug still in hand, expression unreadable beneath his shadowed brow.
[Chumbucket]: Training starts now. Cry, and I'll use your tears to polish the obsidian stairs.
A few two-winged paled. One fainted. Natsuko didn't move.
Instead, she stood, legs steady, wings straight. Her pulse still hammered in her ears, but she locked her eyes on Chumbucket with quiet resolve.
She remembered the night she'd nearly died. The night her world had burned. The day Grey found her, she was dying alone and trying to protect her loved one.
And the moment her savior whispered, "Live. Love who you want. Break whatever tries to stop you."
Natsuko clenched her fists and stepped forward.
She would train.
She would rise.
Not to worship, but to serve the only one who had ever let her choose.
[Back to Grey]
[Grey – POV]
I HATE IT.
It's been… two, maybe three months since I saved Levi.
And I have never regretted something so much in my entire warped existence.
It started simple. Noble. Even sweet.
He came to me the next day, carrying a half-dead man in his arms, begging me to bless him. I figured, sure, why not? I'm benevolent. Mysteriously kind. Accidentally divine. I gave him a drop of blood. He cried. The man lived. Touching.
But then it happened again.
And again.
And again.
By the tenth person, I stopped pretending to care and just handed Levi two bottles of my blood.
[Grey]: You clearly know what you're doing. I delegate this problem to you.
He drank one—because, of course, he did—and immediately evolved again. Wings got shinier. The aura got louder. Smile got creepier.
He then diluted the second bottle in holy water and started blessing people like some deranged vampire missionary with a side of interdimensional marketing.
Now?
Thousands.
Thousands of people, from hundreds of worlds, are walking around with pieces of me in their veins. They've formed a church.
A whole holy order, actually. With robes. Titles. A literal glowing chalice made from crystallized Void glass and blessed jellyfish ink, they call the Grail of Hollow Grace.
They hold monthly meetings.
Which I'm now required to attend.
Just to stand there and say:
[Grey, every damn month]: "Do not worship me. I swear on the collapsed timeline of Earth-443, if any of you start building statues—again—I will erase your favorite memories and replace them with dental surgery."
They always nod.
Then I turn around and hear them whisper things like "Her wrath is divine" and "The Silent Star speaks through migraines."
I am the center of an involuntary religion.
And that's just the start.
When I'm not being mistaken for a god I actively threaten to smite, I spend my days—
Filling out paperwork for three different planar trade deals,
Hosting diplomatic talks with eldritch sea lords,
Fixing coral towers after "mysterious" explosions,
And raising three very chaotic children who call me "Dad" with wildly different tones of voice—respect, mischief, and emotional terrorism.
At least Ammar helps.
Sometimes.
When he's not crying over ledgers or being chased by toddler Bit Bob, who somehow got their hands on a chainsaw-sword hybrid and insists it's a teething ring.
And as for me?
I stare at the sky some nights.
I wonder how my life became a multiversal soap opera directed by caffeine, sarcasm, and divine accidents.
Then I sigh.
And so I returned to the glamorous life of divine parenting, interdimensional diplomacy, and making absolutely sure no one accidentally starts Hollowborne Crusade II: Blood Boogaloo.
Today's mission?
Send the kids to school.
Simple in theory.
Absolutely hell in practice.
You try enrolling three semi-divine, partially Hollow, dimensionally unstable children into appropriate academic institutions across different realities without causing an incident that ends with a dean crying blood.
I stood before them in the throne room, clutching a clipboard and radiating parental authority.
[Grey]: "Okay. Lesson time. You three are going to school.
Immediate panic.
[Bit Bob]: Define 'school.' Also define 'go.' Also, define 'lesson.'
[Reefer]: Can I bribe the headmaster with glitter?
[Loiten]: If this is punishment for calling you 'Dad,' I regret nothing.
[Grey]: You should. But no—this is not punishment. It's character development.
I tapped my clipboard. Three glowing portals opened beneath them.
[Grey]: Here's the fun part: I don't exactly remember where I enrolled each of you. So let's all discover this together like a dysfunctional lottery!
[Loiten]: …You're winging my education?!
[Grey]: Winging is such a strong word. I prefer 'chaos-based placement.'
Before they could protest, the portals activated.
One by one, they dropped through like oddly shaped packages being sent to the multiverse's worst post office.
Bit Bob landed in a naval academy—specifically, on the deck of a training warship mid-drill.
Whistles blared. Cadets snapped to attention. Someone screamed, "INCOMING!"
Bit Bob landed in the captain's chair, held up a mug, and declared—
[Bit Bob]: I bite torpedoes.
No one questioned it.
Reefer crash-landed into the RWBY universe, right into the middle of combat class.
A Beowolf roared.
Reefer blinked, burped out a puff of sparkles, and disintegrated it by accident.
Weiss fainted. Ruby cheered. Ozpin dropped his coffee.
Loiten landed in an isekai manga academy, where students trained with cheat powers and tragic backstories.
He looked around at all the glowing protagonists.
Then at himself.
Then muttered—
[Loiten]: ...I'm going to be the emotionally unstable transfer student with mysterious trauma, aren't I?
A sword flew past his head. A girl with five wings and a dragon tail fell in love with him on sight.
Back in my throne room, I sipped my coffee.
[Grey]: And that's parenting done right. Delegation, destiny, and a total lack of prep work.
Ammar peeked in.
[Ammar]: Should I prepare contingency teams in case any of them accidentally take over their worlds?
[Grey]: Yes. Also, mark down Tuesday as 'Possible Multiversal Parent-Teacher Conference Day.' I have a feeling it's going to be loud.
I feel free, finally. Grey is free.
[Later]
I stood as the members of the chat group were all here for one reason.
They were bored, I was bored, we were bored.
[Chapter END]