Date a Bride (Date A Live Fanfiction)

Everything was white.

White paths stretched endlessly in every direction—beneath her, above her, all around. She could feel solid ground beneath her feet, yet it felt as though she were floating in a void without depth nor end.

There was a faint, strange snare sound echoing in her ears, distorted and unclear, as if muffled by layers of fog.

She couldn't tell where it came from nor what it meant, only that it existed somewhere in this blank void.

Gradually, the snare began to fade, peeling away the numbness that clouded her thoughts. In its place, sound crept in—soft, subtle at first—a quiet crackling noise.

Something was burning.

The sound triggered something in her—a spark of memory that flared up in the empty stillness of her mind, rousing her from a state of blankness.

And then, as she tried to lift her hands, realization dawned.

The crackling wasn't distant—it was close. Too close.

She was the one burning.

White flames licked at her arms, winding up her body in bright, searing tendrils. They clung to her, crackling with a relentless, almost sentient hunger.

Yet, though the fire surrounded her, wrapping her body in a cloak of heat and light, it did not consume her. The flames danced over her skin, neither harming nor devouring.

Had the sun drawn closer? She blinked, straining to see past the endless white void.

Above her loomed a blazing circle of even deeper white, hanging in the sky like the unblinking eye of a ruthless deity.

But no—this wasn't the sun; the true sun had yet to break over the horizon.

Unbeknownst to her, a false sun had taken aim at her. It was a weapon, a charged cannon suspended high in the atmosphere, poised like an executioner ready to deliver judgment.

Lost in confusion, she barely registered the danger.

Her gaze dropped, falling to her own body once again. The pain that pulsed through her felt distant, muffled, like the echo of someone else's suffering.

It was then that she noticed it—something was wrong.

Something was... off. Her body felt altered, reshaped in ways she couldn't quite comprehend.

She was no longer herself—not in any form she could recognize—not the person she had once been, nor the one she had woken up as.

Her entire body had become a blank canvas, devoid of the features that once defined her humanity. She was a being of stark white, smooth, and featureless—a surface fractured by several cracks that spread across her form in jagged, uneven patterns.

Each crack glowed with a faint green luminescence, pulsing softly, rhythmically, like a heartbeat.

Her hands rose, trembling, reaching toward where her face should have been. Her fingers brushed the smooth surface, finding nothing—no eyes, no nose, no mouth. Just an unbroken expanse of white.

How could she speak? How come she can see or breathe?

Yet something about that felt familiar, as though She-He always have been there like that.

"..."

She braced herself, trying to put strength into her legs as she forced herself upright, scanning for anything beyond the endless white expanse that surrounded her.

Her head turned left, then right, her footsteps echoing faintly as she walked.

To an outsider, she might have seemed like a wanderer, adrift and searching for a guide to help her find her way. And they wouldn't have been entirely wrong.

She was lost. Her thoughts were a maze of fragments—disjointed pieces of memories that refused to fit together. But she wasn't searching aimlessly. She wasn't looking for just anyone.

She was looking for someone.

"M-Ma..."

At that moment, her voice was not just a call—it was a plea, an echo of her deepest, most desperate need.

They say that in the most despairing of times, when a person is lost and broken, they instinctively reach for the one person they trust above all else—the one who would never let them fall, the one who would never abandon them.

"M-Mama..."

Yes—the one person she could trust without question, even though deep down, she knew they were no longer of this world.

"Mama..."

She didn't know how much farther she had to go or how many times she'd need to call out before something—anything—changed. She wasn't even sure if anyone could hear her. But for now, that single word was all she had. And somehow, just speaking it brought a strange comfort.

"Mama...!?"

She stopped suddenly, the word caught in her throat. A sharp sting shot through her barefoot, the sudden pain pulling her out of the fog.

Lifting her leg, she saw that the skin on the bottom was torn away, melting. She looked down and spotted the missing skin sizzling, burning into the ground where she'd stepped.

As if the pain was rising with her confusion, she started to feel numb, followed by an itchy sensation and then a searing pain all around her body.

The flames that once didn't take anything from her body now seemed to eat away at parts of her skin—melting her form like a candle.

It became clear now—she wasn't immune to them as she'd once believed. They simply hadn't been hot enough to harm her before.

"What's the point—"

Her eyes flicked back to the sky. The object she'd mistaken for the sun seemed to grow larger, brighter.

"What's the point of a second chance—"

She sank to her knees, her gaze falling heavily to the ground.

"If I don't have time to make something of it..."

Her arms instinctively wrapped around her knees, pulling them close to her chest.

As she did, a thin wisp of black smoke rose, curling around her like a dark veil, gently draping over her shoulders and enveloping her.

Her whole being was slowly crumbling into black ash.

"I should be thankful, at least..."

She closed her eyes, letting her head rest against her knees,

"This time, I have the chance to get ready..."

To get ready for what?

"!"

Her eyes shot open. She lifted her head sharply, her gaze racing across the vast, empty whiteness that stretched endlessly in every direction.

"W-Who?"

She was sure she had heard something—someone's voice. But as she scanned the endless expanse, there was no one.

"..."

Of course, no one else could be alive here. The heat, oppressive and unyielding, seemed to burn away any hope of salvation. Even she couldn't comprehend how she was still clinging to life. But she knew, deep down, that it wouldn't last much longer.

She let her head fall forward once again, her forehead resting against her knees, and closed her eyes.

Why aren't you answering me?

"!"

Her eyes snapped open. She wasn't imagining it—someone was speaking to her.

In a frantic rush, she pushed herself to her feet. Her legs wobbled, nearly betraying her, but she steadied herself just in time.

"Who? Who's there?"

She began to pace, her eyes frantically searching the empty space, her body jerking back each time she turned, half-expecting someone may be just behind her. But every glance met only desolate emptiness.

"Please! Answer me—"

Her words faltered in her throat as she caught a glimpse of her body.

She froze, and the rest of her plea died. A single thought shot through her mind.

"I—I'm not what you think—"

The urge to explain surged within her, desperate and frantic. Maybe whatever was listening was afraid of her—afraid of what she had become.

"I... I used to be human, you know?"

A hollow laugh escaped her, bitter and raw. Something was trickling down her brow, like sweat. But that couldn't be right—any drop would have evaporated in the relentless heat. Yet, she still felt it.

"I may look like... like... like a monster. But inside, I'm really just an old man—a weak one, at that. I don't mean any harm. You don't have to be afraid of me. I... I don't want to hurt anyone. Please, just... show yourself."

The silence pressed in around her. She waited, straining her ears, hoping for some sign, a breath, even a shift in the endless white. But nothing answered.

A shiver ran through her, despite the oppressive heat that seemed to pulse from the very air around her. Was she really alone, after all?

Her shoulders slumped, her gaze dropping to the ground as her vision began to blur. Was she about to cry? It felt impossible—she had no eyes anymore, no way to shed the tears she longed to— and Even if she had, the flames clinging to her would mask any trace of evidence...

Why do you always cling to these humans, even though you are no longer one of them?

"!"

The voice sounded again, startlingly close this time—so close she could almost feel it. Her head snapped up, searching wildly, but...

"Wh—A...a mirror?"

Her urge to call out vanished as her gaze locked onto what stood behind her. She was staring at herself—or rather, the form she had woken up in. The only difference was the color of its hair and eyelashes—snow white instead of brown.

It was like gazing into a perfect reflection, yet one that mirrored nothing but emptiness—eyes as hollow and lifeless as the abyss itself.

Slowly, she lifted her arms, half-expecting the reflection to mimic her movements. But it remained eerily still, its vacant, emotionless stare fixed on hers, offering no response.

"Why do you still cling to the humans?"

"W-Who are you"

"..."

The reflection's lips parted, but no words emerged. A heavy silence stretched between them, as though her own question had echoed back unanswered.

"...You're fucking pathetic."

"Eh?!"

She stumbled back a step without realizing it, her shoulders trembling as the reflection's emotionless face suddenly snapped into one of sharp rage.

"You stand here, burning away piece by piece, and still, you cling to hope. You cling to them. The same creatures who tore you apart, who tossed you away like you were nothing. They saw your pain, your suffering—AND WHAT DID THEY DO?"

The reflection's hand shot out, pointing an accusatory finger. "They piled more pain onto you. They didn't stop, not once. Yet here you are, pleading. Hoping. Forgiving.

"What are you waiting for? Some grand apology? Some spark of kindness to save you? Are you that desperate to believe in their goodness?"

Her face raised a little, urging her to respond, but the reflection cut her off with a sharp laugh.

"Don't even try to justify it. I know what you're going to say. 'Not all of them are like that.' Right?"

It sneered, stepping closer, the vibrant flowers in its headband withering and twisting into cruel thorns that curled and spread down its body. Bride instinctively took a step back out of...fear?

"That's what you always tell yourself, isn't it? 'Some are different. Some can change.' Some—showed you kindness. And for what? For what, exactly? Did it undo everything they've done? Did it erase what already happened? Did it make you whole again?"

The thorns crept onto the white wedding dress, shredding the fabric as they dug into its skin, and where they touched, a dark, inky blackness spread underneath, marking its flesh with deep, pulsing shadows like blood.

"You're weak. You always have been. They fed you scraps of kindness, and you lapped it up like a starving dog"

"You don't lack hatred because you're noble or strong. You lack hatred because you're a coward. You're too afraid to take revenge, too afraid to stand up and say, 'Enough.' You let them trample you, and you thank them for it."

The patterns spiraled over its shoulders, slithering down its spine and coiling around its arms, melting into its skin in twisted, unsettling shapes. They formed intricate symbols—unrecognized Tattoos.

"And look where that's gotten you,"

it gestured toward the glowing object in the sky—a false sun, glaring down with unbearable intensity.

"They're going to kill you. Do you understand that?They're going to kill us. Those lowly humans you're so desperate to forgive are aiming that thing at us right now—ready to burn us to ash. No hesitation. No mercy."

It took one final step forward, placing its hand firmly on 's shoulder, stopping her retreat.

"You were willing to forgive them, and this is how they repay you. They hate you. They fear you. And they will never stop trying to destroy you. So why—why do you still cling to them?"

The reflection's empty eyes seemed to burn with an emotion she could only describe as rage—pure, unfiltered rage.

"You should hate them. EVERY SINGLE ONE OF THEM! You should curse their names, burn their cities, and reduce their world to rubble. They deserve it. They deserve your wrath, your vengeance. But no—"

They averted their gaze, as if disappointed.

"You sit here, ready to forgive. Ready to die for their FUCKING SAKE."

The words struck her like a storm, reverberating through her mind. And though she tried to push them away, she found herself, for the first time, actually considering the reflection's words—if only in the quiet recesses of her thoughts.

"I—"

"YOU WHAT?!" The grip on Bride's shoulders suddenly tightened.

"Akh...!"

"You think you're better than me? You think your mercy makes you stronger? It doesn't. It makes you weak. It makes you pathetic. And it's going to get us KILLED... sigh..."

The reflection reached up, brushing a hand over its forehead, as if trying to steady its own rising temper.

"You don't have to be like this. You don't have to forgive. You don't have to keep letting them hurt you. You have the power to stop them. To make them pay for everything they've done. So why won't you? Why won't you fight back?"

"I-I know..."

"...Look at it. Look at what they're doing to you. Even now, when you've done nothing to harm them, they're ready to erase you. And for what? Because they're afraid of you? Because you don't fit into their perfect little world? You don't owe them anything. You never did. So stop—"

Just as the guilt began to take hold of her, the throne of the reflection started to twist and warp, curling into her featureless form.

Slowly, it seeped into the cracks that spread across its fractured body, filling them like liquid shadows.

A smile slowly tugged at the reflection's lips as it reached out, its hand gently resting against Bride's cheek.

"Stop groveling. Stop forgiving. Stop hoping. Burn them. Hate them. Let them know what it feels like to suffer..."

Just as the thorn seeped into the spreading cracks, the reflection's hand seemed to melt into Bride's face.

The pristine white of her body began to drip and dissolve, flowing like liquid silk. Slowly, human-like features began to take shape, emerging from the formless surface.

Long, white hair cascaded down her back, flowing like a river of moonlight, framing eyelashes of the same color as they slowly rose upward.

Was slowly taking the form of her reflection—There was no light in her eyes anymore.

Then, as if the world itself had taken a deep, shuddering breath, a low, pulsating hum began to build. It swelled, growing louder, heavier, until it consumed everything.

The reflection cast a fleeting glance at the sky before returning its gaze to Bride. Slowly, it leaned in closer, its cold lips brushing against her ear.

"Let's show them what we're made of... Repeat after me, dear..."

.

.

.

.

.

"Nathanael... Hana{花}"

Bride's lips parted, and the world around her seemed to jolt violently, trembling in response.

The ground beneath her feet quaked violently, fissures splitting open as massive columns of tendrils erupted forth, twisting and writhing like serpents set free.

Each tendril was forged from countless layers of jagged thorns, intertwining and snapping as they clawed their way skyward.

They rose higher and higher, towering over everything, their shadow blotting out what light the false sun was offering.

Far above, in the void beyond the atmosphere, the cannon mounted on the space station loomed.

Its mouth, already blazing with condensed energy, pulsed with a ferocity that seemed to warp the space around it.

The station's metallic frame groaned as it channeled the last reserves of its power into the weapon.

The light at the cannon's core reached its peak—a concentrated sphere of unimaginable energy spinning faster and faster, nearing the speed of light.

On the ground, the tendrils bent and locked into place. They twisted together, layer by layer, forming a structure that dwarfed anything human-made.

A shape began to take form—a flower.

The petals unfurled, massive and jagged, each one sharp enough to split steel. Thorns spiraled along their edges, creating a barrier of sheer brutality.

The flower stretched wide, its jagged petals reaching toward the heavens as if defying the overwhelming brilliance of the false sun.

And then, the cannon fired.

A colossal beam of pure energy erupted from the station, tearing through the void with terrifying speed.

The beam's searing heat rippled outward, transforming the atmosphere into a chaotic storm of light and sound as it descended toward the Earth.

Before it even breached the troposphere, the ocean below vaporized in an instant within a 50-kilometer (31-mile) diameter. A massive surge of steam exploded upward, flooding the skies with a boiling, white-hot tempest.

And then, at precisely 9 kilometers (5.6 miles) above the Earth's surface, they collided.

The world seemed to pause.

Then—

A cataclysmic explosion erupted, swallowing everything it touched in a blinding sphere of destruction.

Shockwaves tore outward, ripping through the atmosphere with an earth-shattering force. The surviving clouds disintegrated into spiraling ribbons of vapor, their remnants swept away by the expanding blast.

A deafening sonic boom roared across the heavens, shaking the air and obliterating everything in its path.

"AKh!"

The airship belonging to DEM, The one that was supposedly positioned hundreds of miles away to observe the event away from danger, jolted violently. Alarms blared, and the ship's once-stable decks tilted under the sheer force of the shockwave.

"Sir! The ship—it's not just the heat!" one of the crew members shouted, gripping the edge of their station to avoid being thrown to the floor. "The shockwave alone has destabilized the systems, and the hull integrity is dropping fast!"

Panels flickered as warnings lit up across the control room, a cacophony of red alerts drowning out the frantic voices of the crew.

The entire crew held their breath, careful not to miss the crucial order to retreat to safety. But when their eyes fell on the ship's captain, Sir Westcott himself, any hope of receiving such an order crumbled into ashes.

Not only was he smiling—his wide eyes lit with an almost childlike excitement—but he was also blushing, his expression unsettlingly euphoric, as though he were... high.

"Ah~ T-That... just magnificent~"

From both sides of him, the contrast was stark. Unlike his expression of joy, both Artemisia and Elen were utterly shocked, as though they couldn't believe their own eyes.

"W-What kind of monster... is she...?"

"..."

Elen let her thoughts hang in the air, while Artemisia remained silent, as if weighed down by guilt.

"I never liked flowers in my life, but..." Westcott slowly reached out to touch the small display screen in his cabin, brushing it gently. "To think I would feel such... desire to obtain this one..."

"!"

Suddenly, Westcott shot up from his chair, his palms slamming onto the cabin's surface. His wide eyes weren't brimming with joy this time—they were filled with shock.

"Ike?"

"Sir Westcott?"

Both Elen and Artemisia turned toward him, confusion etched on their faces as they took in his sudden shift in demeanor.

"What is the meaning of this...?"

It was rare to see genuine emotions flicker across Westcott's face. He was a man known for the perfect mask he wore, one that seldom cracked. But today was different.

Just moments ago, everyone had witnessed his delight as he watched the terrifying collision unfolding amid the chaos aboard the airship. Now, however, that joy had been replaced by something else entirely—rage.

His teeth clenched tightly, the muscles in his jaw twitching as his anger burned visibly beneath his carefully constructed facade.

Both Elen and Artemisia followed his gaze back to the screen, and at first, nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

The collision raged on, the chaos relentless. Both sides held their ground, testing the endurance of the other in a desperate struggle.

"That...?"

Elen's sudden gasp broke the silence as her eyes caught a subtle but critical detail in the thorned flower.

"What is it?"

Artemisia's brow furrowed, her face darting between Elen and the screen, confusion clear in her expression.

It wasn't until Elen pointed at the faint detail that Artemisia finally understood.

"The thorned flower... it's blooming?"

Though they had finally noticed the small change, the reason behind it eluded them.

Back on the battlefield, the reason lay in plain sight.

"...How dare you..."

The once upward curl of the reflection's lips had twisted downward into a grimace. Its hollow eyes shifted, no longer fixated, but toward someone—or something—far behind her.

A figure stood watching intently. A shape both familiar and resolute—a dog.

"How dare you defy your master's orders."

Its form didn't respond, but its glowing eyes seemed to flicker intensely against the reflection words.

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(A/N): For those who have been enjoying the story so far:

Chapters 14 and 15 are already available on mznovels. com!

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