In an endless black void, thousands of white feathers hung helplessly in the air. Perhaps that was not the right term, for in the depths of space there was no air to hang in.

Regardless, these feathers were unbothered by the lack of oxygen, or any other gases that could be regarded as air, as they drifted aimlessly through the void without the reigns of gravity to drag them down.

A few of these feathers were spattered with bright red droplets, the divine purity of the feathers a blood that was itself so sublime and pure that even simply calling red felt insulting.

Scarlet nectar, nor crimson ambrosia did nearly enough of a service either. It was such a vibrant colour that it was as if someone had spent their entire lives making the most perfect shade the world had ever seen, only for that shade to somehow have a baby that was even more perfect than itself.

The combination of this sublime blood and the pure feathers did not seem like the stained, ruined aftermath of a blood battle it truly was, but instead a sight that would make even the most restrained art critic weep at the beauty of its creation. For in their eyes it would seem like an intentional masterpiece, rather than simply what happened when dragon claws tore through the back of an angel before giving said angel a swift kick in the rear.

But such was the nature of art.

As for the angel that was responsible for the feathered canvas the blood art had been painted onto, there were no flowery words that could make her situation seem any better. Deep gashes tore apart her body, down to the bone and which even exposed her organs. Her heart visible as it pulsated weakly, beating its final rhythm as her guts spilled out, floating in the void around like the ribbon of a trained gymnast.

Her once beautiful face was beaten to a pulp, seven of her eight wings had been ripped from her body while the eight had simply been melted to a stub by acid. Countless sapphires hung in the vacuumed void alongside her feathers, with some still attached to the shattered pieces of a golden halo.

The perpetrator of this viscous beating loomed above the broken and degraded Angel, that was still somehow clinging to life. A dragon, well over 30 metres in height and over a 60 metres from the tip of its nose to the end of its tail, with black scales that almost made it blend in with the darkness of the void of space.

It's glowing green eyes cast a derisive look down at the battered angel, its voice resounding in the void despite there being no air to carry it.

"Did you really think you could beat me, bird-brain? You should have known it was a doomed effort from the start."

The dragon shook its head, before tilting its chin up. It closed its eyes, as if basking in a non-existent breeze, before letting out a sigh of relief. Its eyes opened slowly, and it looked back down at the ruined angel with a shark-toothed grin. Although with the size of the dragons teeth, it was a smile that would make even a Megalodon turn the water warm.

"I can feel it, the Progenitor is free. His cursed existence has finally ended, and he can rest eternal."

A sputtered laugh came from the lips of the Angel, globules of blood drifting into the vacuum, keeping its form and undulating in a display that would make those art critics weep once more. But the Dragon cared little for their opinions, especially since it didn't know they existed.

"Progenitor... Heh...", The Angel wheezed, coughing up another mouthful of blood to swoon the critics, before continuing, "You lizards... all worship him. Call him your Progenitor or An-ancestor...

Such fools... He has done nothing for your race but exist. He is no ancestor. He cannot procreate."

"What makes you think we don't know that? We simply don't care. He has earned our devotion in more ways than you will ever know. Speaking of races, I have to admit, you are a surprising one. So rarely do your kind stand and fight, at least at your level.

What was it that caused you to be that rare breed? Simple stupidity? A sense of fearlessness? A lost sense of duty? What was it? Why stay and fight in a fight that would always lead to your death?"

The dragon leaned close, raising its eyebrow in curiosity at the smirking angel. But all she was looking at now was a corpse. The life had completely left its eyes, and she could see through the gash in the Angel's chest that its heart had stopped beating.

It had died smirking, confident in an answer that only it would know. Or so it seemed.

A tiny speck appeared in the endless void, just over the Angel's shoulder. It glimmered like a distant star, but it was rapidly approaching until it streaked through the Angel, obliterating her body completely.

Yet even with the Angel as an obstacle, the approaching asteroid did not slow in the slightest. It continued to gain speed, shooting over to the Dragon faster than she could hope to dodge.

It slammed into her jaw, forcing her head to whip to the side. It completely shattered her bones on impact as shards of teeth and broken scales were cast off into the vacuum, drifting alongside the Angels blood and feathers.

The asteroid continued on its course for a few moments before stopping dead, finally revealing its true form to the dragon. What she saw was not an asteroid, but a stone hammer.

It was a simplistic weapon. An angular head made of rough stone, with metallic accents to reinforce it, and a wooden handle that was wrapped in thick leather. A small loop of leather hung from the knot at the base of the handle, for the weilder to slip their hand through or hold when spinning the weapon.

The hammer itself was smaller than even the dragons eye, although that was still at a size that meant its stone head was as large as most human torsos. Yet despite being pathetically tiny in comparison to the mighty Dragon, her spine turned to ice at the sight of it.

Sparks crackled around the hammer as it tilted backwards, shooting back along the path it came before landing with a silent, space trembling boom in the waiting hand of its owner. A gruff, slightly drunken voice grumbled words through a thick beard as the Dragon turned to see the dreadful figure in all his glory.

"Perhaps my presence answers that question. I must thank you for sticking around to gloat, I just had to get one more drink and feared I would have been late. But now, it's time for me to have my fun with you, scaled one."

***

Astra let out a low groan as she laid on the floor. Everything was sore. From her fingers to her toes, every single muscle, nerve and bone was sore. Even her leg, her fake and already removed leg, was sore despite the fact that it wasn't even there!

How did that work? How was it even fair?!

She let out another breathy groan, wiggling her fingers slightly to get rid of the tingling sensation in them as well as the stiffness in her muscles.

"Are you okay?"

There was a high pitched ringing in her ear, but the voice of a small girl still cut through the noise. The worry was evident in her voice, It quivered so much it almost sounded like she was on the edge of tears. It could only be the ghost girl of the Dead Men, but she didn't even know if it was possible for her to cry.

Astra still hadn't gathered the energy to open her eyes, it felt more comfortable to keep them closed, so she simply nodded slightly and grunted.

"Fine... I'm fine. The floor is probably more wounded than I am. Just a little... sore."

"Sore? Oh no! Here let me help!"

"No... I'm fine rea- Oof!"

The air was forced out of her lungs as something punched into her gut, causing her to cough a few times and draw in a few wheezing breathes. How that was helping, she had no idea.

But it kind of reminded her of her puppy, Snowball. Although he had two heads, was the size of a semi truck and was a verifiable killing machine, he was still her puppy. In both of their minds.

He still jumped up and clambered all over her, thinking that he was still as small as he was when he was an actually puppy, and his paw always found its way into her gut when he was laying on top of her.

In fact, she could almost feel him laying there, as there was a slight pressure on her chest, that made her smile softly at the memories.

"Is that better?"

"Yeah... It actually is. What is it anyways?"

Astra lifted her head, finally peeling her eyes open, only for her smile to freeze on her face. The room around her was dark, so there was no need to adapt to the light. Which meant she was immediately greeted to the adorable face of a girl the size of a toddler laying on her chest.

Her tiny arms wrapped around Astra's body in an attempt to hug her, as she smiled up at Astra expectantly.

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