[BL]Hunted by the God of Destruction

Elias stared at him, the words sinking in like sediment in deep water.

A stabilizer.

He didn't know what that meant, not exactly, but the word felt heavy, not in the abstract way titles were, but in the way a cage was. Designed to conduct something stronger and wilder to control.

He looked down at his bandaged hands.

"A stabilizer… Is it this Dr. Andrew Batista's theory? The one that says that recessives are used to control the divine power of gods? The by mating the body of the omega, especially, becomes like a… fucking capacitor?" 

Victor's gaze didn't waver. If he was surprised by Elias's knowledge, he didn't show it. Only the faintest flicker of something unreadable crossed his face before settling back into stillness.

"Yes," he said. "Though Batista was working off incomplete data. And a fundamental misunderstanding of what recessives actually are."

Elias let out a quiet, breathless laugh, the kind that carried no amusement. "Right. Because being a capacitor for divine power wasn't bad enough. Now I'm supposed to be something more?"

"You're not supposed to be anything," Victor replied. "But you are. That's the difference."

Elias's fingers curled tighter in the blanket. He remembered reading that paper, 'Recessive Omega Stabilization: Myth, Mutation, or Mechanism,' late at night in his third year. A thought experiment wrapped in clinical detachment. Most people dismissed it as a fringe theory, like most things Dr. Batista published after his fall from grace. But Elias had read every footnote.

He had seen too much of himself between the lines.

"You're saying I'm built to be used." His voice was low now. Cold.

"I'm saying that you have been born to be used." Victor said, his voice equal. 

"You are not helping," Elias said deadpan. 

Victor didn't flinch.

"I'm not here to help," he said, voice even. "I'm here to keep you alive."

Elias's breath caught in his throat, sharp and involuntary. It wasn't just the words, it was the certainty behind them. That unshakable conviction Victor carried like armor, as if survival was the only kindness worth offering.

He let the blanket slide from his shoulders, heat rising along the back of his neck as anger began to boil beneath the surface. His body still hurt, ankle stiff, palms stinging. but the pain felt secondary now.

"So what?" Elias snapped. "I'm a tool? A vessel? A stabilizer… fine. Let's use the scientific term so no one feels guilty about it."

Victor's expression didn't shift, but there was a stillness in him now. A kind of waiting.

"You're not a tool," he said, quiet again. "You're the limit. The threshold. Without you, someone like me can't exist for long in this world. Not without destroying everything around us."

Elias stared at him, disbelieving.

"Do you even hear yourself?"

"I do," Victor said. "And so did Ruo. That's why she ran. That's why she sent the message. Because she knew that even if you hated me, even if you didn't trust me, I would still act."

Elias pressed a hand to his chest, like he could steady his own heartbeat. It was too fast. Everything was too fast.

"And if I say no?" he asked, quieter now. "If I say I don't want any of this?"

Victor leaned back again, the golden trim of his wheelchair catching a sliver of moonlight.

"Then I'll find another way to protect you. But I won't lie to you, Elias. You were born to hold a god without breaking. And they know it too."

Silence stretched between them, long and uneven.

"So you are that god… Great… Please tell me you didn't send my family after me. That Jonathan didn't come after me because of you." 

"I am, indeed. Jonathan?" Asked Victor while tilting his head. "No, I didn't send him. He is not one of my followers; he and your family never were." 

"What are you talking about?! Aren't you the Numen god? The God of destruction?!" Elias asked, feeling the dread creeping up his spine, his hands clenching harder on the soft blanket. 

Victor waited for him for a while, head still tilted, some strands of his black hair falling softly on his pale forehead. He was weighing if it was necessary for Elias to know the truth or not. 

"He worships your sister's husband. A new god is rising. He lied to all of your family because he thinks that my silence means that I don't know." 

Victor's voice stayed level, but the quiet in it had changed, no longer distant or clinical but edged with something colder, more lethal.

"He thinks I'm too weak to intervene," Victor said, almost to himself, his voice mild but laced with something colder beneath it.

"Are you?" Elias asked, his eyes narrowing. He couldn't stop staring at the man in the wheelchair across the room: silk robe, perfect poise, like a serpent who'd learned the art of patience. Something in him already knew the answer. He asked anyway.

Victor didn't hesitate.

"No. I could erase him anytime, if I didn't care about the consequences. And I do," he said plainly. "I can't intervene in someone's destiny directly. I can't kill them and just walk away. But I can influence it. Through people. Through… choices. If someone like you asks me to."

The room fell still.

"Why do you care?" Elias asked.

Victor smiled for the first time—not the soft kind, but a sharp, slivered thing that split his expression like a crack in marble. His eyes gleamed, and then, to Elias's quiet horror, he laughed.

Victor's laughter echoed like something that didn't quite belong in the room, too rich, too genuine, threaded with an irreverence that made Elias's skin prickle. It wasn't cruel, but it wasn't warm either. Just honest in the way ancient things could afford to be.

"I don't. Honestly," Victor said, leaning back. "I was just... bored. The man who owned this body tried to ascend and left the door cracked open. I thought it was funny."

Elias said nothing at first. He just stared, as if he could look past the skin and silk and see whatever lived underneath. The god. The stranger. The thing found humor in returning to a broken world just because it could.

"You're insane," he whispered, not sure if he meant it or needed to hear it aloud.

Victor tilted his head again, still smiling faintly. "Probably."

Silence stretched again. Elias stood up slowly, the blanket slipping off his shoulders, feet sinking slightly into the carpet as he limped closer to the window. It wasn't courage. It wasn't trust. Just exhaustion wrapped around defiance.

"If this is a game to you," Elias said, "you picked the wrong stabilizer. I would rather put a bullet through my brain than be used by the likes of you."