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The taste of the Abundance lingers upon his tongue, cloyingly sweet and drips past his lips, down his cheek like thick honey. Though its viscosity drowns him all the same, flooding his throat and suffocating him from within. He gasps for breath, morphing into an anguished scream as he feels the cold metal of a spear plunging deep into his tender heart — but he can't hear his voice, and the pain feels so close yet so far away, phantom fire burning in his chest.
His body feels heavy and unresponsive, but the hands wrapped so delicately yet unwaveringly around his limbs carry him like he weighs nothing. He wills himself to move, but that merely drives the spear further into his flesh — and yet, he doesn't even remotely struggle from being placed in the lap of the body emanating potent divinity behind him.
It is then that Blade realizes that his mind is somewhere away from his physical body, which is currently soaked in his own blood from the dozens of lacerations inflicted onto him. The threads of his consciousness still link what is considered his whole existence together, and the downpour on the other side freezes him to the core with its merciless rain. But here, the gentle rays of the morning sun make him languid and pliable with its soothing warmth.
Calloused hands roughly pin his body down to the cold dirt, stopping him from writhing and lashing out he gets stabbed again and again. At the same time, smooth fingers hold his face, long nails poking gently against his cheeks, tilting his head to the side to kiss the one behind him, more soft hands caressing his skin — the same places where swords had just cut flesh.
"Give in to me sweet Ren, I will forge you anew, and you will never have to fear death," Yaoshi coos against his lips, and Blade feels his mind cracking bit by bit, his humanity not meant to comprehend the voices of the Divine that slither into his ear and making itself home right in the core his brain.
But I've only ever wanted death, Blade tries to say, but no words come out, soul too weak to leave a mark. He is not meant to be in this realm of the Aeons afterall, his mind only made corporeal through the grace of Yaoshi. Though he suspects that the Abundance knows what he is thinking regardless, for they laugh lightly, a sound like tinkling wind chimes filling the area.
"You are destined for so much more," Yaoshi sighs, voice flowing like molasses, and Blade melts further into the peaceful illusion that they have created for him — even as his arm gets crushed and his shoulder dislocated from someone harshly stomping down on him.
"I will not let a measly thing such as mortality keep you down from the blessings that you will bestow upon the universe." Even more hands reach out for Blade, now groping his bare back and shoulders. He tries to determine just how many hands are touching him, but his sight of them blurs in and out, making it impossible for him to count, and the sensation of being touched by Yaoshi feels like being enveloped in a cocoon, safe, protected, and trapped with no escape.
All Blade knows is that there are at least two arms now hooking under his knees to suspend him above Yaoshi's lap but brace him up flush against their chest, and vines curl around his ankles to straighten his legs up in the air, exposing all of his vulnerabilities to the countless beady red eyes that line Yaoshi's perceivable body, watching Blade from every angle like a precious gem put on display. Two hands larger than his hold Blade's own to his sides, entwining their fingers together while more fingers reach down low to pry him apart. Dew oozes out of the voids of Yaoshi's palms, flowing down their fingers that push past the tight ring of muscle, coating his insides with the fragrant ambrosia that squirts out filthily with each movement of the digits fucking him.
Blade is given no capacity to resist, existing in this space as a mere doll for Yaoshi to maneuver and manipulate, here to experience whatever mercy it is that the Abundance bequeaths upon him. He can only shudder as those long, slim digits finger him and reach deeper than anyone else ever had, their long, sharp nails not even scratching him unlike the blades that still shred his skin.
Just like the hands molesting him, Blade can't count the number of fingers violating the recesses of his body. They tug and stretch him out, the pretty pink muscular walls of his insides unveiled to see the light of day, prodding his sensitive nerves that make his body twitch while a sword gets pulled out of his leg and leaves a gaping wound.
Time passes by, or at least it appears to. Blade can't tell how long he's been mutilated and fondled, his body and self no longer under his control, suspended in this eternity of immortality that Yaoshi has so cruelly blessed him with. Eventually, his tormentors have had enough of him, leaving Blade lying lifelessly on the cold dirt now that his body is too broken to fight back.
Remember, remember the feeling of death, Blade. And bring it to them. He hears someone say.
He feels a kiss being pressed on the back of his head, just as another pair of lithe hands wrap delicately around his neck. Vines follow their master's movements and circle Blade's neck as well, collaring him, a mark of claim from the Aeon that took a fancy on him.
"Remember, remember my presence, Ren. I will always be with you," Yaoshi whispers into his hair, and he feels every fiber of his being soaking in the essence of the Abundance, making him drunk from the purity of life.
Standing above his body, someone takes a deep breath, gripping the halberd in their hands resolutely, before exhaling — swinging it cleanly through his neck like a guillotine sentencing him to death.
The vines and hands holding him up slacken, and Blade screams as he is dropped onto Yaoshi's awaiting shaft lined up below him, far wider than what the uncountable number of fingers had spread him out. There is no room for Blade to escape his fate, the hard cock impaling past his resistances and invading him from within.
Whatever sound that would've come out of his mouth, if it even could, is muffled from the hands and vines constricting around his neck, choking him as he immediately orgasms from the penetration.
Blade's eyes roll back as he twitches from the assault of sensations, gurgling while cum shoots out of his own erect cock and blood spurts from his decapitated arteries. Overstimulated as both pain and pleasure set his nerves alight, he tries to curl into himself in an attempt to endure how overwhelmed he is, but neither of his bodies, neither corporeal now real, are capable of moving on his free will.
Yaoshi, as merciful as they are, wraps their arms around Blade's waist and pulls him closer to themselves, his back flush against their chest. Blade would've moaned at how the movement presses against his abdomen, squeezing him more around the large cock that fills him up. He can't freely move, but his bodily reflexes are still intact, and his walls spasm and milk Yaoshi's length as the Aeon gently massages his belly, practically masturbating while having Blade as their beautiful cocksleeve, not at all concerned that said cocksleeve feels like he's getting split in half.
Kisses are pressed against the corner of his eyes, Yaoshi leaning over to lick his face, thin and long tongue slathering his skin and replacing the fluids leaking from his eyes with their own cooling saliva, and Blade realizes that tears have already been streaking down his face. The sensations of pain have also melted away, instead being replaced by this sense of hollowness — for Blade is currently devoid of 'life', his body declared dead at this moment. He does not resurrect just yet however, Yaoshi has yet to bring him back to life, taking their time to indulge themselves in Blade for just a little longer before regenerating him anew and sending him off. The pitiful thing is so empty… Yaoshi will need to inject him with life and fill him up again after all.
The body radiating divinity behind him does not seem to physically move, and yet Blade is suddenly pounded into. Stars fill his vision as the cock in him drags hotly yet slowly against his tight pink walls, and Blade could almost see himself in the numerous stars that suddenly dot the nebula that has appeared in the sky, the realm having transitioned to night in an instant.
He tightens and clenches hard around Yaoshi's length, but he is powerless against an Aeon, the sensation of hips slapping against his ass still there even if Yaoshi simply lazes back on their throne.
If Blade had any control of his body, he'd be squirming and writhing by now with how deep Yaoshi enters him. Their cock fucks him slowly, taking their time to pull out, before swiftly thrusting back into him with one clean motion, reshaping Blade around their thick length that would have made him cry out and sob.
Alas, all he can do is simply accept whatever that Yaoshi gives him. And Yaoshi so benevolently grants him life.
Their cock throbs hotly in him for a moment, before Blade feels like he is thrown into a deep ocean as Yaoshi releases deep into his very soul, flooding his insides with their ambrosia that seeps into his body and existence. The Abundance regenerates Blade anew, stitching his flesh back up and cording his veins back together.
Blade is filled to the brim, Yaoshi blessing him with copious amounts of their semen so that he won't feel empty anymore. A hand reaches down to stroke his own neglected cock as well, bringing Blade to another orgasm to commemorate his life.
With the rite of resurrection complete, unique to Blade alone, the vines wrapped around his body fully lift him up and off Yaoshi, their shaft slipping out of his ruined hole with much resistance from how girthy it is. The vines turn him around and suspend him in the air, hands held above his head, presenting the completely nude man for Yaoshi to gaze down upon. Blade's head hangs low, physically and mentally exhausted from his ordeal, and he can vaguely see the viscous cum oozing out of his own gaping hole, the thick liquid trickling down his bare legs and dripping down onto the indiscernible floor under him.
Blade thinks that Yaoshi rises from their throne, feels another two hands cupping his face to lift it up to face Yaoshi's own —- and his mind crumbles there and then when his brain attempts to perceive the Aeon's face right in front of him.
Tears begin pearling in his eyes once more. Words cannot begin to describe how beautiful this Divine being is, even if he doesn't think he can make out the details of Yaoshi's face. It is almost like staring straight into the sun with how radiant the Abundance is, blinding him and burning its image into his retinas yet he can't look away.
"Don't cry, my gorgeous Ren. It may be time for you to return, but I am always watching over you," Yaoshi smiles, wiping away the glistening tears with their thumbs. "We will meet again soon enough."
Once more, Yaoshi brings him closer to kiss him on the lips, and Blade instantly melts, mind falling through the aether as the Aeon releases him from their realm. He sees the moon, the nebula, the stars right beside him as he free falls endlessly in space.
Sleep, little Ren. A melodic whisper so far away he can just barely hear. The hum of the universe.
He blacks out.
On the other side, the rain has finally relented, dark clouds parting to reveal bright skies to bestow the gift of life.
Blade's body lies quietly in a field of spider lilies, the vibrant flowers adding another shade of red to the scenery his spilt blood has painted.
Putting away her umbrella now that it has suddenly stopped raining, Kafka crouches down to pick one of the beautiful spider lilies, rather amazed at how quick the entire scarlet field appeared despite the ground being barren beforehand. She witnessed firsthand how the shoots and grass sprouted from the rejuvenated soil, the lilies beginning to bloom one after another like a wave, originating from the center where Blade lays.
Truly, the power of an Aeon is incomprehensible to lowly mortals like them.
Shifting closer to Blade's unmoving body, Kafka brushes aside his dark bangs, before slipping the stalk of the spider lily into his hair. She wipes away the tears that are still leaking from his eyes, and gently pats his cheek with one hand.
"It's time to wake up Bladie, there are people waiting for you."
On cue, Blade's eyelids flutter open, squinting as he adjusts to the daylight. He can't move much yet, unbroken bones and untorn flesh still tender like a newborn baby. He does stare up questioningly at the stranger touching him, having never met her before even if she knows his name, though strangely enough, Blade does not feel threatened.
He has never been touched this gently in a very long time.
"You may not know me, but I've been waiting for you for some time, Bladie. It's rude to keep a woman waiting."
He makes a sound of confusion at her words. Not knowing why she is even here for a broken weapon.
"Hush kitten, don't think so much, and just listen to me. Follow me, and Elio can lead you to the End that you seek. It is destiny that led me here to you, and it is your destiny that you will choose for yourself. What do you say, Blade, will you come with us and face the future together?"
He doesn't take long to make a decision, it isn't as if he has many choices moving forward anyways. At least by following this person, he'll have some form of direction.
Besides, even if following her leads to more pain, it is nothing new to him.
Okay, Blade rasps out, unsure if the woman even heard him, voice still broken from having been decapitated and his vocal cords crushed. But she understands his answer regardless.
"Great," Kafka clasps her hands together, visibly pleased with Blade's answer. "I didn't have to bruise your pretty face any further to get you to listen."
"Let's get going shall we? Let's get him ready, Sam," at her command, the humanoid robot that was following behind her side makes its way to Blade from where it was waiting on standby. "We need to clean you up and get you some new clothes. Oh, I can't wait to dress you up, you have such a nice figure, don't you know that?"
Sam scoops him up in their wide hands, and hands Kafka a blanket from the supplies they carry. She covers Blade with the blanket, protecting his virtue from any prying eyes since he is covered in blood with his clothes tattered and torn, barely hiding his modesty.
"Sleep Bladie, I will wake you up when we arrive." Kafka says, covering his eyes with her hand.
At her gentle order, Blade feels a tug in his heart. He closes his eyes and fades away into a dreamless slumber, nestled in Sam's arms, warm from the generator that powers them.
When Blade next looks in a mirror, a mark on his neck that wasn't there before catches his attention. Thin lines of thorny brown vines circle around his neck, though when he brings his hands up to touch them, his skin remains smooth and flat, the vines appearing as if they are a birthmark instead of a scar — a mark to signify his endless births, a collar to chain him to the Abundance.
If Blade asks Kafka for more high-collared clothes afterwards for him to wear, she doesn't question it.