The village to the East •KatsuDeku• (Omegaverse)

Chapter One: Rumors

Katsuki's POV:

I have been the king of the Crimson Kingdom since my parents stepped down. In my five years of ruling this kingdom, I have never received more reports about the sighting of an "angel" at our border.

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"What the hell do you mean that no one knows who this 'angel' is?" Katsuki screams at his royal staff.

Kirishima, the only one brave enough to stand up to the king himself, speaks up. "For the last time, Bakubro! All of the reports are about angelic sightings. As I’ve told you, we must go to Sheraldo Village, find this... 'angel,' and deal with it once and for all."

Katsuki falls silent. He has been stressed over the potential war with the Dark Kingdom, a place of terror and violence—a land where dreams do not exist. "I want that angel here. I have important meetings to attend," Katsuki says, looking out of his window. He knows there’s no point in raging; the only person he’s hurting is himself.

"We can’t go find him. He’s on the border of the Dark Kingdom and the Crimson Kingdom; we can’t enter that territory. Not even dragons dare to enter the confines of their... world," a royal servant says. They’ve had this same conversation time and time again, as if Katsuki expects them to pull that damned 'angel' out of their assholes!

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Izuku's POV:

"No, silly! I've already told you, I am no angel!" I say to Kota, a sweet little colt I take care of. He’s orphaned and only has his aunt, who happens to be a beta.

"But you surely look like one! Plus, you came out of nowhere, Izuku-kun!" He stares at me with his black eyes, seeming to peer into my soul.

"I didn't come out of nowhere. I didn't spawn out of thin air," I reply, patting his dark mane. I feel a bit annoyed but still try to be nice.

"Yeah, but—"

"That's enough, Kota." I snap at the little one, cutting him off. He looks surprised and confused, unsure why I'm so upset.

No one needs to know the truth about me...

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There are gods, angels, and goddesses.
God is life; that which we worship is nothing short of creation. Humans are truly fascinating; they are perfect ideas, yet poor executions. Every organ in the human body is an ideal design, yet consciousness makes instinctive beings imperfect.

Humans, along with everything in their galaxy, are self-maintaining. Their bodies are a compact version of the intricate stars, nebulas, and all that follow the laws of physics.

Humans were perfect from the moment of their initial conception. The idea of them was so flawless that the Creators made an infinite number of intergalactic races and galaxies to observe them from above.

However, there is a reason why the gods ceased to work on these retrenched creatures. Free will is nothing more than an illusion; everything is planned, and no one can fight against fate. Yet, granting free will was the worst mistake the Creators could have made.

Humans do not deserve consciousness. When they discovered their ability to think and act on those thoughts, the Creators chose to distance themselves from the bastardized creation of life.

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When the Creators arrived—divine entities existing in the darkness of the endless abyss that is the foreseeable multiverse—they decided to create a world from scratch, a prototype of sorts.

The Alpha Father, the Genesis of Creation, and the Omega Mother, the Conclusion of Creation, had thirteen offspring, each possessing special abilities to aid in the manufacturing of this new world.