Wanderer Ch 30: A Sister Cry, Coming Of A New Wanderer!

Out in the cold, infinite depths of space, where stars burned like distant candles and nebulae painted the darkness in soft hues, she floated—a colossus among the void, a being of incomprehensible size and power. The Grand Wanderer. Her very presence warped the fabric of reality, bending light and space around her like she was the axis upon which the galaxy turned.

Her short silver hair gleamed faintly in the dim starlight, each strand reflecting the glow of far-off suns. Her eyes, crimson like molten jewels, were closed as she tilted her head back, her moans vibrating through the emptiness. The sound was low, sultry, and resonant enough to stir distant planets, sending ripples across the surface of nearby stars.

Her body, a masterpiece of ethereal beauty, shuddered with pleasure. Drops of sweat, each one the size of continents, formed and rolled down her smooth, alabaster skin. Her silver suit clung to her form like liquid metal, outlining every curve and contour with such precision that the mere sight of her would have been overwhelming to anyone fortunate—or unfortunate—enough to behold her.

Her breasts exposed, her nipples erect, she waited patiently for what was to come for between her impossibly long, delicate fingers, she held a small planet. It was laughably tiny in comparison to her vastness, barely more than a pebble against the expanse of her hand. Yet, even as it floated there, its oceans shimmered, its mountain ranges cast faint shadows, and its cities dotted its surface like faint glimmers of light.

The Grand Wanderer smiled, her lips parting slightly to reveal perfect, gleaming teeth. Her red eyes opened, glowing faintly as they focused on the fragile sphere between her fingers. The smile widened, not cruelly, but knowingly, like a mathematician marveling at an elegant equation.

She brought the planet closer, holding it just above her chest, her fingers turning it slightly to admire its symmetry. The suit she wore stretched tighter as her breath quickened, revealing more of her formidable form. Her voice, melodic yet resonant, echoed into the void.

"It is unfair," she murmured, her tone thoughtful, almost academic. "I recognize this."

The planet trembled slightly in her grasp, the inhabitants likely hearing her voice as a thunderous, divine decree. But the Grand Wanderer was not hurried. She was patient, measured, taking her time to articulate her thoughts.

"What chance do you have against me?" she continued, her voice soft yet firm, laced with intellect. "You are but a fragile world of finite resources, clinging to the illusion of permanence. And I..." Her smile deepened. "I am a force beyond your comprehension, a daughter of the cosmos itself."

Her thumb brushed the surface of the planet, ever so gently, creating a frictionless caress that sent faint shivers of seismic activity rippling across its surface. Entire oceans must have churned, tectonic plates trembling at her touch.

"And yet," she said, tilting her head slightly as if in contemplation, "I wonder: Will you survive this? Not as individuals, of course. No, I have no delusions about that. Your species cannot hope to endure the sheer magnitude of my pleasure."

Her fingers tightened slightly, not enough to damage the planet but enough to convey the gravity of her intentions. "But as a planet—your oceans, your skies, your very core—can you withstand even a fraction of my desire?"

She exhaled, her breath washing over the tiny world like a cosmic gale. Planets in the far distance wobbled on their axes, and stars flickered in her wake.

"Of course, it would be wrong of me to proceed without granting you an opportunity to flee," she said, her tone now almost mockingly polite. "If you believe there is any hope of escaping my grasp, you have ten seconds."

The Grand Wanderer smiled again, this time with an edge of amusement. "Shall we begin?"

She lifted the planet higher, holding it at arm's length as if to give its inhabitants a fighting chance, however slim.

"Ten," she started, her voice steady and deliberate.

Her tongue flicked out, running across her lips in anticipation.

"Nine," she continued, her red eyes narrowing slightly as she studied the planet's surface. Cities lit up like tiny constellations, their inhabitants likely scrambling for survival.

"Eight," she said, tilting the planet slightly in her grasp. Her touch was delicate but precise, like a predator toying with its prey.

She leaned closer, her massive form blotting out entire star systems as she brought her face nearer to the planet. The heat radiating from her body alone could have ignited its upper atmosphere if she hadn't reined it in.

"Seven," she whispered, her breath creating faint, swirling patterns on the planet's surface.

The countdown continued, her voice rhythmic and unwavering, like the ticking of a cosmic clock. Each number she spoke sent tremors rippling through the space around her, resonating with a weight that defied the vacuum.

By the time she reached "three," the Grand Wanderer's smile had shifted into something almost predatory.

"Two," she murmured, her fingers closing ever so slightly around the planet, the pressure mounting.

"One," she finished, her voice a whisper that carried the force of a supernova.

The Grand Wanderer paused, savoring the moment, her crimson eyes glowing brighter as she prepared to claim what was, in her mind, already hers.

For her, it was never a question of whether the planet would survive. It was a question of how much it could endure before succumbing entirely to her will.

Her smile deepened, and with a deliberate slowness, she pressed the planet against her right nipple. The collision was both catastrophic and beautiful, a fusion of cosmic and physical forces beyond comprehension. The planet's crust shattered instantly, its molten core spilling out in a brilliant cascade of light and energy.l that poured into the crevices that made up the pink plain of her skin.

The Wanderer's body remained unscathed, her unyielding form absorbing the planet's destruction effortlessly. She closed her eyes for a moment, a soft moan escaping her lips as she savored the fleeting sensation. To her, it was like the flicker of a candle—a brief, insignificant warmth that was extinguished in an instant.

When she opened her eyes, she noticed the scattering of tiny lights in the distance. The ships had managed to escape, their trails faint but visible against the backdrop of space. She watched them with a knowing smile, her expression a mix of amusement and satisfaction.

"How interesting," she murmured, her voice tinged with quiet laughter. "Even in the face of annihilation, you found a way to endure. Perhaps you are not so insignificant after all."

With a final glance at the remnants of the planet—a cloud of dust and debris now drifting aimlessly through space—the Wanderer chuckled softly to herself. The sound reverberated across the void, a haunting melody that would linger in the stars for eons to come.

She lounged amidst the shattered remnants of the planet she had so casually destroyed. Her crimson eyes had begun to close, a satisfied smile lingering on her lips. But suddenly, a faint noise—a whisper, almost—caught her attention.

Her eyes shot open, a spark of confusion crossing her face. At first, she thought it was a trick of her mind, an echo from her recent indulgence. But there it was again, faint but growing stronger, more coherent. A voice—weak, strained, and unmistakably familiar—was carried across the immeasurable void.

"Help me..."

Eris's body stiffened, her relaxed demeanor evaporating. She straightened her posture, her towering frame seeming even larger as her piercing red eyes scanned the darkness around her. She was unnerved. It wasn't just any voice—it was Thalassa's.

"Thalassa?" she murmured aloud, her voice reverberating through the void. Her tone betrayed her disbelief. How could a Wanderer, a being of such cosmic power, sound so vulnerable? So... broken?

Her mind raced, trying to make sense of what she was hearing. What could possibly harm someone like Thalassa? The concept seemed absurd. They were the daughters of the stars, the arbiters of fate for lesser beings. Their power was unparalleled, their existence eternal. Yet the faint, desperate plea continued to echo through her mind, growing more persistent.

"Impossible," Eris muttered, shaking her head. She closed her eyes, focusing on the distant thread of energy that carried her sister's voice. It felt thin and frayed, as if it were unraveling, but it was unmistakable.

Her face hardened. Whatever had happened, there was no time to waste.

In a single, fluid motion, Eris rose, her immense figure glowing faintly as she prepared to move. She stretched her consciousness outward, searching for Thalassa's location. A ripple of energy expanded from her body, warping the fabric of space around her as she locked onto the faint signal.