In the beginning, before time had a name and before the stars were born, there was only the Void—an infinite expanse of silence, chaos, and potential. From the heart of this emptiness, something stirred. A spark. A thought. A will.
Creation.
The universe erupted from the womb of nothingness in a breathless moment. Galaxies spun like dancers in a cosmic ballet. Stars were born in blazing brilliance and worlds formed in the embrace of gravity and flame. Reality unfolded in layers—dimensions stacked like veils, each vibrating at its own frequency. From the highest divine planes to the lowest shadowed realms, the universe pulsed with life, magic, and mystery.
But not all was chaos. Not all was random.
From the very moment of creation, nine mythical treasures were born—beings of power, knowledge, and essence. They were not artifacts in the traditional sense, but living forces, bound in form yet beyond the comprehension of mortals. Each one represented a concept, an aspect of existence itself. Time, Death, Knowledge, Chaos, Order, Soul, Shadow, Creation, and the ninth—its name lost to time, for no mind was ever able to define it.
These treasures were not created by any god, mortal, or force—they were birthed with the universe, fragments of the original spark, each infused with unfathomable power. To possess even one was to transcend mortality. To gather all nine… was to become something beyond the gods.
But such a feat was impossible. Even at the dawn of creation, the universe understood the danger of unity. So the treasures were scattered, hurled into different corners of reality, buried within galaxies, hidden in black holes, locked inside dying stars, or sealed in ancient planes unreachable to all but the most determined seekers.
A war was fought for them, though no histories remain. A war between the First Wills—entities older than time itself. That conflict reshaped the primal cosmos. Some treasures were lost in the destruction. Others went into slumber, waiting.
And one of them... fell.
Unlike the others that tore across creation in fire and thunder, this treasure descended without a whisper. No celestial sign marked its passage, no god saw its fall. No prophet dreamed of it. It slipped through the cracks of time, passed through forgotten realms, and arrived on a small, fragile world on the edge of a minor galaxy.
This world was young. Primitive. Its people had yet to reach beyond their own skies. Its spiritual essence—thin. Divine energies, once the breath of all things, were a rarity here. Gods did not walk its soil. Magic did not sing in the wind. It was a place the rest of the universe had overlooked. A sleeping stone in a sea of stars.
And that is where it landed.
The treasure, cloaked in silence, pierced through the atmosphere like a fallen star, yet left no fire in its wake. It crashed into the depths of the earth, unnoticed and unmourned, becoming part of the land, swallowed by layers of soil and time. There was no crater. No quake. No celestial alignment. Just a whisper of presence that even the winds forgot.
A thousand years passed.
Then another thousand.
Civilizations rose and fell above it. Empires bloomed in arrogance and crumbled into ash. Kings crowned themselves with lies, prophets cried false revelations, and wars were fought over illusions. But no one remembered. No one ever knew. The treasure remained buried, untouched, untamed—waiting in stillness.
The planet changed. Forests grew and vanished. Mountains shifted. Rivers carved valleys where deserts once lay. Entire species came into existence and faded into extinction. Yet beneath it all, beneath the crust of reality, that ancient force endured. It did not age. It did not slumber. It simply existed—timeless, patient, eternal.
There were moments—rare, fleeting—when someone, somewhere, felt something. A child might dream of a black sun buried under stone. A madman might whisper of voices in the earth. A dying monk might write a symbol in blood he did not recognize. And yet, even these echoes were too faint to stir curiosity. The world moved on.
But the treasure was not idle.
It listened.
It learned.
It watched.
The silence would not last forever.