Far in the depths of the cosmos, where even light seemed hesitant to reach, a solitary figure drifted in the infinite void.
His body, bloodied and battered, was a silent testament to battles beyond mortal comprehension. He did not move, yet the very fabric of space trembled around him. A being who had long transcended the laws of the universe, his presence alone commanded the silence of the cosmos, as if existence itself dared not disturb him.
Ancient eyes, deep and knowing, pierced through the endless dark. Eyes that had witnessed the rise and fall of worlds, the birth of gods, and the death of eternity. And now, with a quiet exhale, he spoke.
"Ah… it's finally over."
His voice was low, steady, carrying the weight of epochs. Yet there was no triumph in it. No relief. Only the quiet acknowledgment of a war whose cost could never truly be measured. It was done, but its echoes would linger, rippling through time itself.
For a moment, he simply drifted, as though savoring a stillness that had eluded him for far too long. His presence was immense, his power beyond the reckoning of gods or men. Yet even he, in the boundless hush of the cosmos, found something close to peace.
"Time to rest."
There was no surrender in his words, only certainty. A finality that did not speak of death, but of a slumber deeper than time itself. His eyes slowly closed, heavy with the weight of countless years.
And as he faded into the abyss of sleep, the universe seemed to exhale with him. His form remained, still and unshaken, yet the faintest pulse of power lingered—an echo of something ancient, something eternal. The cosmos would never forget his existence.
Because no force, divine or mortal, could ever truly erase him.
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The year is 10,709 since the war that changed everything.
A war now lost to time. A battle between gods, awakeners, and the Outer Beings. To most, it is nothing more than a distant legend, a fragmented tale buried beneath the weight of history. But the truth? The truth remains hidden, etched only in whispers and forbidden texts. No one truly knows how it ended. Or who paid the final price.
Yet, the world still bears its scars.
At the heart of this era are the Awakeners, humans who, at sixteen, undergo a transformation that binds them to mana, the life force threading through existence itself. Some gain power beyond imagination, rising to the ranks of the world's elite. Others are left behind, discarded by fate before their journey can even begin.
For those who awaken, the future is dictated by guilds, powerful factions that rule over cities, industries, and mana itself. Each guild holds its own ambitions, its own vision for the world, whether noble or ruthless. To be chosen by a guild is to have a place in the world. To be rejected is to be forgotten.
But beneath the surface of this so-called civilization, shadows stir.
The Veil, a barrier forged from the sacrifices of ancient awakeners, has long shielded humanity from the horrors beyond. For centuries, it has held strong, keeping the Outer Beings at bay. But it is not unbreakable. Cracks form. Gates open. And through those rifts, things slip through.
They come in whispers, in flickers of shadow. In the hollow echoes of things that should not exist.
And as the Veil weakens, so too does the hold of the gods. Once omnipotent, their influence has dwindled, their power fractured. Some vanished entirely, others were sealed away, their voices reduced to nothing but murmurs in the wind.
Still, the faithful listen. Still, the devout pray. And still, some whisper that the remnants of the gods hold secrets far older than the Veil itself.
To the unknowing, the world is ordinary. A modern age, where technology thrives and the internet connects every corner of society. Cities bustle with life. Social media trends rise and fall. But beneath the neon lights and towering skyscrapers, something far older stirs.
Something is coming.
"A surge of unknown energy has been detected near the eastern border…"
A simple news broadcast. A routine disturbance. Another crack in the Veil. Nothing new. Nothing urgent.
Or so they say.
But those who study the old texts, those who see the patterns, they know better.
The Veil is weakening.
Or perhaps… it is something else.
Beyond the barrier, something watches. Something ancient. Something waiting.
For now, it is only a whisper in the dark. A shadow at the edge of the world.
But in time, the truth will find its way into the light.