#demiurge/ult form

[aventurineswife]

Hihiii !!

may i request a Phainon x reader where as hes using his ult form whilst in battle, the reader gets injured (it can be anything !! like a broken ankle or they sprained their wrist handling their weapon) and Phainon insists on carrying them either still in battle even still in his ult form or after he finished obliterating the opponents that caused the injury in the first place? I dunno, but surprise me ! !(^o^)!

Feel free to ignore this if you don't want to write it, and take care of yourself!!! 🫶

A Sovereign’s Vow

Summary: During a fierce battle in the Okhema Wastes, you suffer a sudden injury that leaves you vulnerable on the battlefield. As chaos erupts around you, Phainon unleashes his ultimate form—Demiurge—becoming a celestial embodiment of light and shadow. After obliterating the enemies responsible, he finds you and insists on carrying you to safety, revealing the quiet, unwavering depth of his devotion beneath his godlike power. Between divinity and vulnerability, a bond between you shines through.

Tags: Phainon x Reader, Hurt/Comfort, Battle Scene, Injured Reader, Protective Phainon, Demiurge/Ult Form, Soft!Phainon, Carrying Scene, Divine Imagery, Mutual Care, Romantic Tension, Fluff Amidst Chaos.

Warnings: Battle violence (non-graphic but intense atmosphere), Injury (sprained/broken ankle, mild pain described), Supernatural combat themes, Mild language, Emotional intensity / power imbalance themes.

A/N: HE'S BARELY OUT Y'ALL!!! 😭🙏

The air cracked with celestial energy.

Swords clashed with shadow as Phainon's Demiurge form illuminated the battlefield. One half of him burned like the heart of a star—golden and searing—while the other whispered with the void, wings of shadow curling like smoke around his form. Every movement he made carved silence into the chaos, obliterating the Titanspawn that had broken through the city walls.

And then you screamed.

You hadn't meant to—gods, you never wanted to be a distraction—but the wrong pivot, the weight of your blade, and a cruelly placed fragment of rubble wrenched your ankle at a sickening angle. You hit the ground hard, dust clouding your vision, fingers scrabbling at the uneven stone. Pain radiated up your leg, white-hot and pulsing.

Your weapon skittered a few feet away. Useless.

But they were coming. The ones who had flanked you—the Strife-bound, writhing with corrupted energy—were closing in, their snarls a cruel melody above the thunder of war.

And then everything stopped.

A wave of divine pressure swept the field. The enemies froze—not from fear, but from raw, oppressive awe.

Phainon landed between you and them in a shock of light and shadow, the impact fracturing the ground in a radiant burst. He didn’t speak. He didn’t have to.

The next instant was a blur of annihilation.

Golden strikes that flared like sunfire tore through flesh and metal, while sweeping arcs of indigo carved silence where once stood fury. He moved like a deity who had forgotten mercy—a perfect storm of power and purpose.

And then, only the wind remained.

You winced, trying to rise.

“Don’t,” came his voice—ethereal and layered now, like it echoed from both heavens and abyss.

You blinked up through the dust. Phainon stood before you in his Demiurge form, radiant and terrifying. Yet when his eyes met yours, they softened. Still piercing, but grounding. Still divine, but real.

“I told you not to push yourself alone,” he murmured, kneeling.

“I—I didn’t mean to—” you stammered, guilt washing over you.

He silenced you with a look. “You’re hurt. That’s all that matters right now.”

You tried again to stand, but he reached out—carefully, reverently—and scooped you into his arms. Even in this form, his touch was gentle, warm where the golden armor brushed your skin, cool and comforting where the indigo embraced you like dusk.

“You’re still glowing,” you said softly, half-laughing through the pain. “You’re going to blind me.”

“And yet, you still manage to tease me.”

You rested your head against his shoulder as he rose into the sky, wings of shadow fanning out, the halo above him casting ripples across the clouds. His long coattails flowed like a royal banner, divine and defiant.

“You came for me,” you whispered, eyes fluttering shut.

“I always will,” he replied, voice a harmony of solemn vow and unspoken ache. “Even if I have to burn the stars and shadow the sun.”

As he carried you beyond the broken field, his power receded slowly—but he never let you go.

Not through the pain.

Not through the silence.

Not even when the battle ended.

[fagatakonin]

Phainon... phanes... much to think about