Chapter Text
Gradus☆Prohibitus
“Little soldier in trouble.”
The night in New York was putting on a hell of a show.
Lightning slashed the sky like glowing blades, casting brief, ghostly flashes over the skyline, skyscrapers looming like sleeping giants. The wind howled between the buildings, making windows shudder and tossing leaves and debris down the hollow, empty streets. Neon signs blinked and stuttered, struggling to stay alive as the storm tore through the city like a wild animal.
High above the lights and chaos of New York, Wiccan floated in silence, unseen, untouched by the world below. His crimson cape billowed behind him like smoke. From his fingertips, glowing magic rippled outward in shimmering rings of energy, scanning the city beneath. His eyes, sharp and resolute, were searching. For something. For someone.
And then, something split the sky.
From within the thickest storm clouds, it emerged like a nightmare clawing its way out of a darker dimension. Its arms stretched long and unnatural, like dead branches twisting in slow motion. Its body wasn’t solid, it pulsed and warped, made of living shadow and violet threads writhing as if breathing. And its eyes, two empty, glowing white orbs, cut through the storm with chilling intensity. Beneath it, the city kept shining, oblivious, each lightning flash briefly revealing the descending horror. As the creature dropped lower, the temperature plummeted. A freezing gust swept through the streets, bringing with it a stench thick and rotten, something ancient and dead.
Wiccan raised both hands. From his palms, blue magic snaked into the air like luminous serpents. Bolts of violet and cobalt light shot toward the monster.
The creature answered with a roar so loud it rattled glass. A sickening gash opened across its dark face, and it vomited a wave of corrupt energy that slammed into Wiccan like a train. He was thrown backward, spiraling through the air, his magic faltering as the impact knocked the breath out of him.
He crashed hard, slamming into the grass of a darkened park. His boots sank into the wet earth as he rolled with the momentum, hitting the ground with a heavy thud. Gasping for air, he forced himself to his feet, his magic still glowing faintly around him, refusing to die out.
Watching from a nearby balcony, Emperor Hulkling tilted his head with lazy amusement. A slow, wicked smile crept onto his lips as he watched Wiccan crash to the ground. His lilac eyes, deep and glinting like polished amethysts, sparkled with something between cruelty and curiosity.
The streetlamps bathed him in gold, catching on his tousled blond hair, wild and rebelliously perfect. The purple tank top clung to his sculpted frame, accentuating every lean muscle. Multiple earrings glittered in his ears, and a black chain hung loose around his neck. He brushed his fingers against one of the studs absently, but his gaze never wavered.
It stayed locked on Billy.
With a comb in hand, Billy carefully ran it through his black hair.
It was silky to the touch, gliding effortlessly between the teeth of the comb. The faint scent of lavender and marshmallow shampoo still clung to the strands, a soft, clean sweetness that lingered in the air. He could feel everything: the brief resistance of a tangle that quickly gave way, the smooth drag of the comb following after.
The memory of last night’s battle crept back in, that creature, grotesque and relentless, the one he’d barely managed to destroy with magic after what felt like an eternity. Its screams and the stench of its blood were burned into his brain, promising nightmares for months to come.
His eyes drifted downward, catching on the amethyst pendant that hung from his neck. He paused, fingers brushing lightly over the purple stone, which glimmered faintly as if it held a heartbeat.
A strange hollowness tugged at his chest, like something was missing. Something he couldn’t quite name. He’d been feeling like that a lot lately. Empty. Disconnected.
Maybe... therapy? There had to be a therapist in New York who specialized in mystical trauma, right?
He hadn’t seen his mom when he left the apartment, but that wasn’t too weird. She probably left early for work again, things had been getting heavier for her lately.
For him too. More creatures like the one from last night were showing up, and Billy didn’t even have the energy to investigate anymore. He just got home, crashed into bed, and hoped the city didn’t fall apart in the meantime.
—
At school, Billy sat at his desk, slightly apart from the other students, a notebook open in front of him. He picked up his pencil and started sketching, letting his mind wander as he began drawing a boy’s face. A face with no features.
At the front of the classroom, Ms. Martinez was deep into one of her usual rants.
“Sometimes I feel like I’m just talking to a wall at home,” she said, arms crossed, exasperated. “My husband’s always working, my kids don’t listen... it’s like I’m invisible.”
Billy’s pencil kept moving, but his ears caught every word. The faceless boy in his notebook was slowly becoming something else, surrounded by swirling shadows, its form eerily reminiscent of the creature from the night before.
“I try so hard to make a difference,” she continued, “to be heard. But sometimes I think no one cares. I just... wish people could see how much I do care.”
Billy finished the drawing and stared at it. The creature now had eyes, deep, dark, almost real. They stared back at him from the paper, alive with something terrible.
“Anyway,” Ms. Martinez sighed, turning back to the lesson, “let’s get back to it. Class, I’d like you to meet our new student. This is Teddy Altman.”
Billy looked up just as the classroom door opened and Adonis walked in.
His hair was that kind of golden blond that only seemed to exist in beach photoshoots, cut neatly around a face that could’ve been carved by gods. A tight purple tank top clung to his chest, showcasing muscles so defined that Billy’s brain short-circuited. His biceps bulged with every move, thick and obscene, probably bigger than Billy’s entire head. Silver piercings sparkled in both ears, like a constellation that decided to move in on a sun-kissed body. He wore faded jeans that clung to slim hips and thick thighs that looked borderline illegal.
Billy swallowed hard. His notebook felt like it was burning in his hands, his fingers twitching with the unholy urge to cross the classroom and trace Teddy’s forearms with a single trembling finger.
God, he thought. To be crushed beneath those arms. To feel them flex while he’s choking me out—
- Stop. Get a grip. His inner monologue screamed for control, but his virgin mind was already spiraling into madness.
Teddy’s eyes, cerulean, sharp, half-hidden beneath a ridiculously thick fringe, locked with Billy’s for a heartbeat.
And that was it. Billy’s pulse skyrocketed.
As Teddy moved to the front of the room, Billy couldn’t look away. His body felt like it might betray him at any moment. Every part of him screamed to fall to his knees and offer up his soul, his body, his everything, to the golden god now standing in the same space as him. Gratefully. Eagerly. No questions asked.
Billy swallowed again. His Adam’s apple bobbed visibly.
“Hey. I’m Teddy,” the boy said coolly, his voice low and steady.
Billy felt tiny under that look.
Teddy walked past the other desks and, of course, chose the empty seat directly behind Billy.
Feeling him that close, Billy bit his lower lip and tried to focus on Ms. Martinez’s voice again, though her words were now just static against the rush of blood in his ears.
Ms. Martinez turned to the whiteboard and began scribbling down a complicated equation. Just looking at it made Billy want to drop out on the spot.
“Today,” she announced, “we’ll be solving this differential equation. Let’s see who can crack it.”
He stared at the board, trying to focus, but his thoughts kept drifting to the guy sitting right behind him.
He heard the soft rustling of notebook pages and glanced back discreetly, Teddy was already deep into solving the equation. The way his hand moved across the page, calm and precise, the confidence in how he handled numbers and symbols, it caught Billy off guard.
A few minutes later, Teddy raised his hand.
"Ms. Martinez, I’m done," he said, cool and collected.
The teacher blinked, clearly surprised, and made her way to his desk. She leaned over to check his work, and her eyes widened.
“This is correct.”
Later, in P.E. class, Coach Richards announced they'd be doing a round of drills followed by a basketball game. Everyone filed out to the court, and Billy couldn’t help but steal glances at Teddy stretching a few meters away. His muscles stood out under his tight T-shirt like they had their own spotlight. Once the game began, Teddy instantly stole the show. He was fast, fluid, and stupidly accurate. While the other guys tripped over themselves to keep up, Teddy moved like he was in his element, dribbling around them with ease, landing perfect shots like he was born on a court.
Billy, usually a background character in these games, found himself completely entranced. At one point, Teddy snatched the ball, weaved between two defenders, and launched himself into the air, delivering a flawless dunk. The ball swished through the hoop with a perfect snap.
“Damn, he’s a beast,” one of the guys near Billy whispered.
Teddy landed smoothly and gave a soft smile, like that insane play was just another Tuesday.
“Okay… who’s that show-off?”
America Chavez, Billy’s best friend, asked as they walked off campus later that day. She held a school-branded coffee cup with both hands, her denim jacket bedazzled with stars and stripes standing out against the golden autumn trees.
She gave Billy a pointed look, her expression equal parts curiosity and warning.
“Teddy,” Billy muttered. “I think.”
At lunch, Billy just couldn’t stop glancing toward Teddy’s table. The new kid already had a little entourage. His smile sent a shiver down Billy’s spine and left him desperate for just one more look. He stabbed at his fries, trying to focus, but his brain was a mess of thoughts and not-safe-for-school fantasies. He imagined his fingers slipping through Teddy’s golden hair, tracing the curve of his jaw, the sharp cut of his Adam’s apple, if he was lucky.
Teddy turned toward him for half a second. Billy immediately looked away.
Before he could spiral any further, America and Tommy dropped in on either side of him. America, never one to waste a moment, nudged his shoulder and let out a laugh that popped in the air like bubblegum.
“Hey, earth to Billy. You glitching out or just eye-fucking the new guy like he’s on the damn menu?”
Tommy, balancing his lunch tray like it was a basketball, bounced lightly on his heels as usual. “C’mon, America. New guy probably just said ‘hi’ and now Billy’s planning the wedding.” He cackled and gave Billy’s back a dramatic slap. “That dumb little face says it all, bro!”
Billy’s heart jumped. He opened his mouth to argue, but nothing came out.
Maybe they hadn’t noticed how long he’d been staring.
Or maybe they had, and this was their way of calling him out, as usual.
“I’m not staring at anyone!” Billy snapped, voice pitching slightly higher than normal.
America raised an eyebrow, her smirk pure menace.
“Oh yeah?” She balanced her tray with one hand and jabbed her fork into his arm, gently but just annoying enough. “Then why do you look like you just got run over by a truck named Teddy?”
Tommy snorted and slammed his tray onto the table, splashing juice everywhere. He didn’t care. He kicked his chair out and flopped into it like he’d just won a race.
“You guys make everything a thing,” he groaned, unwrapping his sandwich and taking a comically huge bite, chewing with his mouth open. “Relax, dude. He’s not gonna bite.”
Billy wasn’t so sure.
And part of him… kind of hoped he would.
“I’m just... looking.” Billy said, folding his arms with a skeptical look.
America leaned over the lunch table.
“Looking, huh? Right. Just don’t come crying to me later, pretending you're not playing out some slow burn romantic movie scene in your head, where you and Mr. Tall-and-Shiny are staring into each other’s eyes with some cheesy indie ballad in the background.”
She smirked and took a sip of her juice. “But hey, if you say you’re just looking...”
Billy shrank back, trying to hide the heat rising in his cheeks.
“I’m not... imagining anything, America,” he muttered, rubbing his forehead and trying to pull himself together.
He glanced sideways, eyes locking briefly on Teddy, who was still at his table, laughing with the others.
“It’s just... he’s different, you know? I don’t know what it is, but something about him makes me feel... uneasy.”
Tommy, still chewing half a sandwich, blinked a few times, confused, then burst out laughing.
“Uneasy, huh? That’s not unease, dude. That’s lust.”
Billy shot both of them a glare, then sighed in defeat.
“All right, whatever. Now tell me, how’s that physics project you two have been avoiding all week?”
Teddy walked out of the building with the same dead-eyed look as always, like the day meant absolutely nothing to him. He cast a sideways glance at Billy, who sat slouched on the school steps like a lost puppy.
He couldn’t help but let out a scoff.
The "great" young witch, sitting there like he mattered, like he hadn’t turned the universe into a goddamn joke. What a clown. This kid? A nobody playing dress-up, deluded into thinking he was special. Billy was a walking punchline. How had someone this pathetic ever—
Teddy looked at him with such intense disgust it nearly curled his lip. He could barely suppress the urge to crush him right then and there. He was an insect pretending to breathe the same air as kings.
Teddy’s mission was crystal clear. By sundown, Billy had to be dead.
And the best part? That idiot wouldn’t even know what hit him.
He held back a laugh, jaw tightening as he mentally rehearsed the coming carnage.
He walked through the city like a shark in shallow water, his mood soured by every happy face, every stupid interaction. Was this the world Billy had rewritten? Where were the Avengers? Where were the mutants? Oh, right. In this dumpster-fire timeline, they were just another bunch of nobodies living basic-ass lives without an ounce of power left in them. What kind of fantasy land was this? It felt like a knock-off Disney movie that someone wrote on drugs.
The streets didn’t help. Everyone had this over-polished, toothpaste-commercial smile. No real tension, no chaos, no blood, just manners, fake kindness, and people pretending the world hadn’t been hollowed out from the inside.
This place is weak.
They’re all weak.
He came from a world where power ruled and weakness got crushed.
This version of Earth? It wasn’t even worth his spit.
Eventually, he stopped outside an arcade, the only place that still gave him a flicker of stimulation. The neon sign was too loud for his taste, but at least inside, he wouldn't be surrounded by idiotic smiles. He pushed the door open and walked into the familiar chaos: the sound of buttons being mashed, games blaring, and flashy lights dancing across dusty walls. At least this didn’t make him want to vomit.
He walked past a crowd of teens without a second glance and stood in front of the flashiest fighting game he could find. Good. He popped a few coins into the machine and picked the most brutal character on screen, someone who looked like they could rip a head off in two moves. The closest thing to release.
Time blurred. Minutes bled into hours.
He destroyed opponent after opponent, mechanical grunts and bone-crunching sound effects filling the space. His fingers moved fast and precise, muscles flexing with every combo. The characters on screen, barely dressed, landed violent, beautiful blows. One final strike.
The enemy’s body slammed to the ground with a satisfying crack , and Teddy felt a brief, twisted thrill.
He clenched his jaw.
It’s almost time.
And when the sun disappeared beneath the horizon...
He’d finish what he came here to do.
Billy remained on the steps, the weight of Teddy’s stare still burning in his mind. That look... so full of hate and contempt, like it had punched him in the gut. It lingered, heavy and suffocating. He barely noticed the sky dimming, shadows stretching across the pavement like fingers. An itch crawled up the back of his neck. That eerie sensation of being watched made his stomach twist.
He stood, shaky, brushing off his jeans and slinging his bag over one shoulder.
A chill followed him as he headed home, an invisible dread clawing at his thoughts.
When Billy reached his block, something felt wrong.
His neighbors stood frozen at their doorways, like mannequins under a dying sun.
The twilight made their silhouettes look unnatural off, somehow.
He paused. Their bodies were stiff, unmoving. Their eyes...
Their eyes were dead. Hollow. Like the lights were on, but no one was home.
The wind blew, but not a single leaf moved.
Billy’s heart hammered. He felt like the last living soul in a horror movie.
“I... I can fix this,” he whispered, barely believing the words himself. “I just need... more time.”
Then, the old woman across the street, sweet Mrs. Halberd, who used to give him cookies, stepped forward, her face vacant.
In her hand was a kitchen knife.
“I know what you did,” she muttered in a trance-like monotone. “I can’t let you... I can’t let you...”
She lunged.
Billy barely had time to react. Instinctively, he raised a hand, summoning a shield of shimmering energy that deflected the attack. The force knocked her back, dazed but unharmed.
“I’m not what you think I am,” he whispered, eyes wide with fear. “I don’t want to hurt you...”
But then more neighbors stepped forward, their expressions equally blank.
One held a pipe. Another, a rusty crowbar. All of them shuffling toward him like puppets cut loose from their strings.
Billy didn’t want to fight.
But they gave him no choice.
A tall man with white hair rushed him first. Billy summoned a second barrier, knocking the man back, not hard enough to kill, but just enough to stall.
“I can help! You’re not supposed to be like this!” Billy pleaded.
No answer. Just more empty stares.
Another neighbor charged with a butcher knife. Billy dodged, cast a quick burst of force magic, sending the blade flying and the attacker tumbling.
But they kept coming.
“Shit!” he hissed, panic mounting. He boosted his shields, heart pounding as more and more neighbors poured out of houses, weapons raised, blank faces aimed squarely at him.
Soon, he was surrounded.
A voice broke through the chaos.
“What’s going on, Billy?”
Billy turned, stunned.
Teddy.
He wasn’t supposed to be here. Not now.
Billy tried to hide the magical energy still glowing around his fingers, but it was too late.
Teddy stepped forward, calm, unfazed, then yanked a streetlight straight out of the ground like it weighed nothing. The metal groaned and snapped as he lifted it like a baseball bat.
Before Billy could say a word, Teddy hurled the post like a spear.
It hit a man square in the gut.
The crunch of metal piercing flesh echoed like a thunderclap.
Blood sprayed. Billy froze.
The man let out a strangled scream before collapsing, dead.
Billy stood there, shaking, blood on his face, staining his clothes.
“What... what are you doing?” he stammered, barely audible.
Teddy turned to him with a wicked grin.
“Come on, Billy. You’ve got all this power, don’t tell me you’re planning to let me do all the dirty work.”
He turned away and smashed another man’s face with his bare fist, caving in the skull like a watermelon.
Billy reacted.
A surge of blue light exploded from his palm, slamming into Teddy’s chest.
“STOP HURTING THEM!”
Teddy barely flinched. He turned, brushing off the attack like static.
“You really think your spells can touch me?” he asked, almost amused. “I’m a galactic emperor, Billy.”
He stepped forward, magic still swirling around him but doing nothing.
“You shouldn’t even exist in this timeline.” Billy’s hands burned with power, glowing orbs floating above his palms, desperate to act.
But Teddy moved first.
In a blur, he was there. A brutal punch connected with Billy’s jaw, cracking the air.
Everything went black.
Billy woke up to the crushing sensation of pain wrapping around his skull, throbbing behind his eyes. The dim, flickering arcade lights buzzed above, casting ghostly shadows that pulsed with every blink. He tried to move, panic instantly bloomed when he realized he was tied up, wrists bound above his head, rope cutting into raw skin. His body was drenched in sweat, but he barely had the strength to wipe his face.
Each breath came shallow, ragged. His brain scrambled to make sense of where he was, how he got here, until he saw him.
Teddy.
Standing just a few feet away, with a twisted grin on his face and a whip in his hand. It hung from his fingers like a viper, snapping faintly against the ground in warning. People were nearby, some backing away, others simply watching. But they were all watching Billy. Their faces blurred, distant, like a crowd at a freak show. Teddy didn’t care. Not about them. Not about anyone.
"This little shit thought he could play god. Twisting the universe around his finger, messing with lives like it was all a damn game. But guess what?" He stepped forward, whip dragging behind him like a shadow, eyes narrowing with predatory precision. "He’s about to learn what the universe thinks about that."
Billy flinched, breath stuttering as the whip coiled in Teddy’s grip. His whole body screamed in dread. His magic, where was it? Why couldn't he feel it?
“Please... Teddy, don’t, please just let me go!” Billy begged, his voice breaking, pride crumbling with it.
The crack of the whip cut through the air. Then it cut through flesh.
Billy screamed.
Pain detonated across his back like fire ripping through paper. His body jerked violently, the ropes biting deeper. His mind couldn't keep up, he didn’t know what hurt more, the physical agony or the betrayal blazing in Teddy’s eyes.
Teddy stalked forward slowly, muscles flexing under his tank top, framed by the flickering lights. His icy-blue eyes burned with a wild, hungry glint as he took in Billy’s cries like a man starved.
Another crack.
Another scream.
The whip slithered across the floor like a living thing, hungry for blood.
“Beg all you want, freak,” Teddy spat, voice low and guttural. “Won’t change shit. You messed with the wrong universe.”
He stood tall over Billy, chest heaving, whip coiled tight in his grip. The next strike came fast, loud, brutal.
It carved another red line across Billy’s back.
Billy howled.
No use holding it in, the pain was too real, too sharp. It didn’t even feel like his body anymore. He twisted, fought, pulled against the ropes, but they wouldn’t budge. Another blow. Then another. The air reeked of iron and sweat, the metallic tang of blood staining everything.
Teddy didn’t flinch. Didn’t hesitate.
Just watched.
Cold. Focused. Feeding off the spectacle.
“You scream too much,” Teddy muttered, almost bored, though the smirk on his lips betrayed how much he enjoyed it.
He adjusted his grip, tested the balance, then swung again. Billy barely managed a sob before the leather bit into his side. Skin split. Blood sprayed. His head dropped forward, limp.
But Teddy wasn’t done.
He grabbed Billy’s chin, yanking it up, fingers digging into already bruised flesh.
“We’re not finished.”
Billy blinked through the haze. Everything felt distant. Unreal.
The crowd around them stirred, but not with outrage, just detached curiosity. A few looked flushed, breath hitching in shallow rhythm, but no one moved to help. To them, Billy was just another spectacle under hot lights. Nothing more than bleeding meat.
Teddy leaned in, eyes wild with something between lust and loathing.
“Where’s all that power now, Billy? Aren’t you supposed to be some all-mighty spell-slinger? So why the hell are you just hanging here like a worthless little bitch?”
He got closer. One hand still gripping Billy’s face, his voice dipped to a whisper, warm breath ghosting over flushed skin.
“Maybe... you’re not that special after all. Just another weak, pathetic mistake.”
Then he shoved Billy back, hard.
Another lash.
Then another.
Billy’s chest convulsed. Blood dripped down his torso, mixing with sweat, running in lines over tensed muscle and torn flesh. He could barely breathe. Could barely think. His hands twitched uselessly against the ropes. The pain was everywhere.
The whip cracked again, this time across his chest.
Billy cried out. His vision blurred, lights above twisting and swirling. He felt more like an object than a person. Teddy’s eyes gleamed. Every twitch, every breathless sob, every shiver, Teddy watched, consumed it.
The whip lifted one final time.
But something changed.
Billy’s fingers began to spark. Just slightly, tiny arcs of blue light flickering like dying fireflies. The crowd didn’t notice. But Teddy did.
He paused, eyes narrowing.
The ropes hissed.
Then— SNAP.
The cords burst apart, seared clean through by a wave of unstable magic. Billy collapsed to his knees with a heavy thud, arms trembling, blood smearing across the filthy floor. He stayed down for a breath... two... three...
Then slowly, he lifted his head.
And locked eyes with Teddy.
No tears.
No begging.
Just cold, unreadable silence.
He rolled his shoulders, neck cracking sharply like an animal finally freed from its chains.
"Hah... so that’s how it is, huh?"
His tongue dragged across dry, split lips as he stared at Billy, still trembling from the lashes, body streaked in blood and pain, but now with different eyes. Hollow.
Teddy let out a rough, arrogant laugh.
"I’m gonna have some fun before I kill you."
Billy stood.
His muscles twitched and spasmed from the beating, but he didn’t flinch. The blood ran freely from open wounds, yet he looked numb to it, unbothered. His eyes were locked on Teddy’s with an unsettling calm, cold and unreadable, like he’d already seen this whole scene play out in his mind.
Then, he smiled.
Small. Almost mournful.
“So it’s you. The leader of the worms I never managed to crush in the galaxy.”
And then the world cracked.
Like a pane of glass splintering from within, reality itself began to bend.
Edges twisted. Colors bled into each other. Shapes collapsed in on themselves.
The floor rippled like heatwaves off asphalt. The smell of blood, the murmur of the crowd, it all started disappearing, sucked into some invisible void. Above them, the arcade’s ceiling tore open like cheap paper, exposing a black, endless abyss. One by one, the machines blinked out, sucked into nothingness, vanishing like dust in the wind.
In a matter of seconds… nothing remained.
Just Billy. And Teddy.
Teddy tried to move forward, but his body froze.
His breath caught in his chest. Something unseen held him in place. His muscles still burned for a fight, heart hammering like a war drum, but something deep in his instincts screamed: Don’t move.
Billy hadn’t shifted an inch.
No rage. No exhaustion.
Just that same stare. Calm. Patient.
Inevitable.
"I used to think I’d have to chase you," Billy said quietly, voice almost gentle. "But now I see... you never moved at all."
Billy plunged downward, stomach lurching as the world vanished into chaos. White turned to black, sound to static. His limbs flailed, desperately reaching for anything, but there was nothing. No walls. No end. Just free fall.
Suddenly, he was seated.
Breathing hard. Eyes wide.
In a chair.
He looked around.
A classroom.
What the hell?
He barely had time to react when the door swung open.
Billy walked in.
Clean clothes. Combed hair. Unbothered. Polished. Like nothing had ever happened. As if that moment of pure terror was just some bad dream. Beside him stood a tall, confident girl with an unreadable face. Billy tilted his head slightly, that soft, distant smile returning to his lips.
"Welcome. You must be Teddy." His voice was light. Casual. "If you don’t mind, I’ll show you around the school."