Chapter 38: Future Vault

Concerning the future of this fanfic, I'll reach around Borderlands 2 and then decide from there. As the nature of the fanfic has reached a point where Alexander has grown into a literal demi-god, he will never lose another fight. However, this does not mean he won't lose. Chapters will be around 2000 - 3000 words from now on. Enjoy. 

Third person

The gates of the Eridian vault loomed, vast and unyielding. Etched with runes that glowed in faint, purple light, the structure defied time itself, standing as a testament to an ancient, alien civilization. Alexander, his towering figure clad in the military attire of Unified Arms Technologies (UAT), stood motionless at the threshold. His face was obscured by the iron mask he always wore, his long hair cascading down the sides like dark rivers. His presence alone was enough to silence the ominous whispers of the alien landscape around him.

Next to him, Wilhelm adjusted his stance, ready for action. The UAT squad leader cast a brief glance at the spear Alexander held—a weapon so massive and dense that no ordinary soldier could even lift it. But Alexander wielded it with the ease of a child gripping a twig. It wasn't just his towering 6'5" frame or his immense physical strength. It was something more. Something no one else possessed.

He waited. The air around him distorted slightly, as though space itself recognized his command over reality. They had come for the secrets buried deep within the vault, treasures and knowledge left behind by the Eridian race. But as they entered, there was no hesitation in Alexander's stride, no second thoughts.

The vault doors shuddered open, ancient mechanisms creaking to life. Inside, vast chambers stretched into the darkness, filled with floating crystals and dormant technology. The silence was broken by the hum of alien constructs awakening to defend their secrets.

The constructs emerged from the shadows—sleek, smooth shapes of obsidian-like material, adorned with Eridian sigils that glowed with pulsing, purple light. They hovered and moved with unsettling precision, surrounding the intruders. But they were little more than an afterthought to Alexander.

With a single gesture, fire blossomed in the air around him. The flames did not flicker chaotically like natural fire. They were controlled, manipulated to his will. He raised his hand, and a column of flame spiraled outward, incinerating the constructs in a brilliant flash. The vault was briefly lit by the blaze, shadows dancing along the walls as the fire consumed his enemies.

One of the constructs advanced, undeterred by the destruction of its comrades. Alexander's eyes glowed beneath his mask, and with a twist of his wrist, he projected a beam of pure energy, so focused and intense that it cleaved the construct in two, leaving molten shards in its wake.

Wilhelm, nearby, dealt with the remainder. His cybernetic enhancements and UAT combat training allowed him to dispatch the few stragglers that Alexander hadn't already destroyed, but it was clear who the dominant force was. Alexander barely moved, yet the battlefield bent to his will.

They reached the inner sanctum after clearing a series of traps—lethal for most, but child's play for Alexander's intangibility. He simply phased through walls and traps that Wilhelm had to bash through, leaving a trail of broken obstacles in his wake.

The chamber they entered was vast and awe-inspiring. At its center, atop a platform bathed in eerie, purple light, was the artifact—a spherical object, floating slightly above its pedestal. It radiated power, a hum that reverberated through the air, a pulse felt more than heard.

But before they could reach it, the guardian rose.

Standing over ten feet tall, its body was an amalgamation of elements—its limbs forged from a constantly shifting mass of stone, fire, and ice. Its eyes glowed with the same purple energy as the artifact it protected. This was no simple defense mechanism. This was a creature born of the vault itself, ancient and powerful.

Wilhelm instinctively stepped forward, but Alexander raised a hand, stopping him. The fight was his. The guardian roared, its voice a deep rumble of the earth itself, and charged.

The guardian's first attack came swiftly—a massive fist of molten rock swung toward Alexander. The ground beneath it cracked and melted from the sheer heat, but Alexander didn't flinch. His body blurred, becoming intangible just as the attack passed through him harmlessly. He reappeared a moment later, several feet away, untouched and unfazed.

The guardian shifted, its form becoming a mass of icy shards that shot forward like spears. But again, Alexander was too powerful. With a flick of his hand, he summoned a wave of heat that melted the projectiles mid-air, turning them to harmless steam. His grip tightened on his spear, and in an instant, he was airborne, propelled by a burst of energy that launched him toward the guardian.

His spear struck with terrifying force, aimed directly at the creature's core. The weapon pierced its stone chest, cracking through the elemental armor as though it were paper. The guardian staggered back, its form flickering as it tried to reform.

But Alexander gave it no chance to recover. Flames erupted from his hand, engulfing the guardian in a vortex of fire. Its elemental body, resistant to normal heat, couldn't withstand the intensity of Alexander's pyromancy. The flames burned brighter, hotter, consuming the guardian's very essence. Stone crumbled, the ice melted, and the fire was snuffed out, leaving nothing but a smouldering ruin where the once-mighty guardian had stood.

With the guardian defeated, Alexander stepped toward the artifact. He could feel its pull, its immense power resonating in the air. He reached out and touched it. Immediately, the world around him vanished.

In its place, a vision. He saw Pandora—but not the Pandora he knew. Above its familiar wastelands and ruins, the skies were filled with Vladoff warships, their signature purple banners striking against the planet's bleak atmosphere. The cities—what little of them remained—were aflame, and Vladoff soldiers marched through the streets, their boots crushing any resistance beneath them.

But it wasn't just the destruction that gripped Alexander's attention. In the vision, he saw himself, standing amidst the chaos. His future self was more powerful than even now, energy crackling around his form as he fought off enemies with ease. But there was something else, something darker lurking in the edges of the vision—an unknown threat, something even he couldn't foresee.

The vision ended abruptly, leaving Alexander back in the vault. The artifact pulsed in his hand, but its message was clear. Pandora would be attacked, and he would play a pivotal role in the coming war. He had seen a glimpse of his future—a future he would either fight to change or embrace.

Without a word, Alexander turned, the artifact now securely in his possession. Wilhelm followed, unaware of the vision that had just passed through his leader's mind. They left the vault behind, but the path forward was clear. War was coming to Pandora, and Alexander would be ready.

The journey back from the Eridian vault was eerily quiet. The wind whipped around Alexander and Wilhelm as they descended from the jagged cliffs, leaving behind the ancient, alien structure and its mysteries. The artifact pulsed gently within Alexander's hand, its power radiating through his body, though he remained calm, and collected—his mind already racing with the implications of the vision he had witnessed.

Pandora. The invasion. Vladoff.

Though the scenery around them was desolate—Pandora's typical barren landscape of rock and dust—the weight of what lay ahead was undeniable. His planet was on the brink of destruction, and even with his immense power, there was a feeling deep in his chest, something unsettling.

The two moved with practised precision, their steps unhurried. Wilhelm was silent, as always, his mechanical body making little sound despite the bulk of his frame. His mind seemed focused, calculating perhaps, as he no doubt contemplated the next objective. They had retrieved what they came for, yet there was no celebration. Only the knowledge that something larger was set in motion.

By the time they reached the landing zone where a sleek UAT dropship waited, the sun had begun to dip beneath the horizon, casting long shadows across the terrain. The ship's engines hummed, ready for departure. The pilot saluted Alexander, but he paid the man no mind, stepping aboard with Wilhelm close behind.

The interior of the dropship was cold and sterile, the hum of the engine almost a lull in the background. Alexander made his way to the cockpit, standing silently behind the pilot's seat as the ship lifted off the ground and shot through the atmosphere, heading toward the bunker. As the planet's harsh surface disappeared below them, Alexander's mind wandered back to the vision. The fires, the warships, the devastation. His gaze hardened.

Felicity's voice chimed in over the comms, cutting into his thoughts. "Sir, everything is in place. Your return is expected shortly."

Alexander's response was brief, a simple grunt of acknowledgment. His focus was already shifting back to his next move. The artifact pulsed in his grasp once more, and a brief, chilling sensation spread through him. It was a reminder—Pandora would fall if he didn't act soon.

The dropship glided smoothly into the hidden hanger of the bunker, the large doors sealing behind them as they touched down. The base itself was a marvel of advanced technology, its design sleek and functional. Constructed far away from prying eyes, it served as a fortress for Alexander's operations—a place where he could strategize and grow his power without interference.

As the ramp lowered, Alexander descended into the cool interior of the bunker, the sound of his footsteps echoing off the metallic floor. Wilhelm followed silently, his heavy form moving with precision. Felicity's voice greeted them once again, this time from a nearby control terminal.

"Welcome back, sir," she said, her tone neutral yet efficient. "Your quarters are prepared. Shall I commence debriefing on the mission?"

"Later," Alexander responded, his voice as cold as ever. His mind wasn't on the vault anymore. It was on something, or rather someone, much closer.

Angel.

The thought of her, unconscious and vulnerable, stirred something within him. He wasn't sure what it was, but it lingered, gnawing at the back of his mind. There was something about her that unsettled him, though he would never admit it. Perhaps it was her unyielding will, or perhaps it was the way she reminded him of something he had long since lost—humanity.

Alexander made his way through the sterile halls of the bunker, moving with purpose toward the medbay. As the doors slid open, he was greeted by the steady beeping of machines monitoring Angel's vitals. She lay there, still and silent, though her body occasionally shuddered, as if caught in some nightmare. Dr. Zed, who had been attending to her, jumped slightly at Alexander's arrival, his hands fumbling with the tools on the counter.

"Ah, sir! You're back," Zed said, his usual awkward demeanour shining through. He adjusted his mask nervously before continuing. "Angel's been stable, but, uh, her condition is... delicate. I've been monitorin' everything, like ya asked."

Alexander's gaze remained fixed on Angel, her pale face slick with sweat. Every now and then, her fingers twitched, her body reacting to whatever inner turmoil plagued her mind. The sight tugged at something within him—a flicker of emotion he couldn't quite place. He despised seeing her like this, tormented by forces beyond her control.

Zed continued rambling nervously, but Alexander wasn't listening. His attention was solely on Angel. For a brief moment, he considered using his powers to help her, to ease her suffering. But he stopped himself. She needed to overcome this herself. Dependency was weakness, and he would not allow her to fall into that trap.

"Have you ensured that all traces have been removed?" Alexander finally asked, his voice steady, yet commanding.

"Uh, no problemo, sir. We haven't had an issue. I've been assistin' her myself," Zed stammered, his hands fidgeting with the instruments.

"Good." With that, Alexander turned to leave, sparing Angel one last glance before the doors slid shut behind him.

The dim lights of the underground bunker cast long shadows across the sterile walls, the air heavy with the soft hum of machinery. Alexander stood at the edge of the room, his gaze fixed on the unconscious form of Angel, her body resting on the cold medical bed. Even in sleep, her face contorted in brief moments of pain, her hands twitching slightly as if fighting unseen battles in the depths of her dreams. Whatever demons tormented her mind, they were relentless.

For a moment, Alexander simply observed, his iron mask betraying no emotion, though inside, thoughts stirred. There was something about her—the quiet strength masked by vulnerability, the tenacity she showed even through the anguish. Despite her soft heart, or perhaps because of it, she had a resolve that drew him in. He admired her for it, though he wouldn't admit it easily, even to himself.

But admiration wasn't enough. Strength of heart and mind could only carry someone so far in a world where raw power dictated survival. That's where Angel fell short, despite her talents, her kindness. Her servitude to others—her father, her captors, even to her own ideals—had left her vulnerable, shackled. Foolish, he thought. She was wounded, a soul desperately trying to do what she thought was right, even if it meant sacrificing herself. And that self-sacrifice made her weak.

But now she was his. Under his command, Angel could become something greater. No longer bound by others, she would be an asset to his Imperium. A powerful one, if he could harness that potential.

Alexander stepped forward, resting his hand lightly across her forehead. Her skin was warm, damp with sweat from the strain of whatever horrors plagued her mind. For a brief second, he considered using his powers to stabilize her—to clear her mind and body of the pain she endured. But he stopped. It would only be another form of control, swapping one dependency for another. She needed to find her strength, to rise above it, not be carried by his power. Yet, in that brief contact, he found a strange fondness for her—a connection he hadn't felt in years. Perhaps ever.

He turned to the Doctor, who stood awkwardly in the corner of the room, fiddling with some equipment. Dr. Zed, a peculiar man with questionable morals, had proven useful nonetheless.

"Have you ensured that all traces have been removed?" Alexander's voice was cold, a command more than a question.

Dr. Zed shifted nervously before nodding. "Uh, no problemo, sir. Everything's clear. I've been assistin' her myself. No issues, I promise."

"Good." Alexander's tone left no room for further conversation. He cast one last glance at Angel before turning and leaving the room, his cape brushing lightly against the floor as he walked.

The bunker had been constructed in absolute secrecy. Hidden from the world above, it was a fortress of both technology and power, guarded by his ever-growing Imperium. Felicity, now a global AI, oversaw all systems, controlling everything from security protocols to resource management. Her counterpart, a specialized AI for combat, ensured that his forces remained sharp and prepared for any threat.

As Alexander entered the central control room, the lights dimmed further, a large holographic display flickering to life. Felicity's digital form appeared on the screen, her presence a constant in his operations.

"I've finished construction, sir," she announced, her voice a mix of crisp efficiency and subtle curiosity. "Everything is operating at peak efficiency. No vulnerabilities detected."

Alexander remained silent, his eyes scanning the readouts, taking in the results of her work. But Felicity wasn't finished.

"I do say, I find your fondness over this particular... individual interesting," she added, her tone probing as if she were testing the waters of his reaction.

Alexander paused, his hand resting on the arm of his chair. Felicity had no true emotions, but her observations were sharp, perhaps too sharp for his liking. His fondness for Angel was… complicated. There was no denying that he cared for her, though he had told himself it was purely practical—she was valuable, a weapon in the making. And yet, there was more. He couldn't place it exactly, but the idea of losing her, of seeing her fall to the demons that plagued her, unsettled him in ways he had long since buried.

He said nothing, but the silence spoke volumes. Felicity's image flickered slightly as if registering his lack of response.

"Of course, sir. Shall I proceed with the next phase of preparations?"

Alexander nodded the faintest acknowledgment, before returning his attention to the holographic display. Whatever Angel's future held, she was now bound to his own. And in time, she would understand that the path he offered her—one of power, of control—was the only way forward. He would see to it personally that she became what she was meant to be, even if it meant reshaping her very soul.

Felicity's voice cut through his thoughts once again. "The combat AI has also been updated with new strategies. We are ready to engage any external threats at your command."

Alexander allowed a small smile to form beneath his mask, a rare occurrence. His Imperium was growing stronger, and with Angel at his side, there would be nothing—no one—that could stand in his way.

"Prepare everything," he finally said, his voice low but firm. "I will not let this world—or any other—slip from my grasp."