Rebirth has always lingered in the deep recesses of the human mind. It is one of the oldest ideas to take root within the collective imagination of the species, a dream of renewal and transformation that stretches back to the first sparks of thought. Humanity has always whispered of the chance to begin again, to be remade from ruin, to rise from the ashes of its own mistakes. It appeared in the sacred texts of the ancients, in the forgotten songs of the nomads, in the digital hymns of the post-industrial age. It was the hope that carried civilizations through collapse after collapse, the belief that what falls will one day rise again.
Yet, as history would reveal, humanity had never truly understood what rebirth meant. It was never prepared for the day that the universe itself would decide to start over. What came next was not salvation. It was not renewal. It was annihilation. The concept of rebirth became something else entirely when the event now known as The Blank Nexus erupted into existence.
No one could predict how it began. Some believe it was a divine correction, a reaction of the cosmos itself against the weight of accumulated sin. Others hold that it was the result of a failed experiment conducted by entities long erased from the archives. Whatever its cause, the outcome was absolute. The Blank Nexus tore through the observable universe with merciless force. Reality convulsed. Star clusters collapsed like dying lungs. Galaxies folded into themselves as oceans of raw, ungoverned energy spilled through every layer of existence. The structured universe, once stable and comprehensible, was remade into something unrecognizable. Order died, and chaos was born in its place.
Our solar system was caught in the heart of that storm. Planets shattered as unknown energies flooded through the void. These energies would later be named URA-Type Energies, a cosmic element without precedent or limitation. They coalesced around natural satellites, binding to dust, ice, and stone before being drawn into violent collisions with Earth. Each impact rewrote the rules of matter. Mountains turned to vapor, oceans boiled into the sky, and entire continents folded beneath molten tides. The extinction that followed was swift and total. Humanity, along with every known species of Earth, perished in the inferno.
The planet was no longer recognizable. It became a molten ocean of fractured crusts and planetary remnants drawn together into a single mass. At the planet's core, the densest concentration of URA sank deep into the molten layers and fused with the planetary heart. The result was a singularity-like core that generated a gravitational field comparable to that of a star. The planet swelled, its body expanding to solar proportions, glowing faintly from within.
The Earth of old had ceased to exist. What remained drifted into a new orbit far beyond the cradle it once called home. Its sun, too, transformed under the Nexus radiation, expanding to over seventeen hundred times its original size. The system itself reassembled around this radiant behemoth, forming a strange, habitable balance amid the chaos. Other planets followed the same pattern, each bearing traces of the URA phenomenon. It was believed that this transformation took place near the end of the year 2834, a date remembered only through fragments recovered from scattered colony archives.
By that time, humanity had already scattered among the stars. Colonies on distant exoplanets existed, small and fragile but functional. Those who had the means to escape—the privileged, the powerful, the architects of civilization—had left long before the catastrophe reached its peak. They looked back upon their dying cradle only once. The homeworld that had nurtured them became their discarded relic, a burned and broken monument to their greed. Billions were left behind to perish. The Blank Nexus made certain that Earth was buried with them.
But the universe, as it often does, refused to end so simply. From the shattered surface of the planet, life began again. The URA that had annihilated everything now served as the spark of new creation. It fused with the atmosphere, the soil, and the seas, rewriting DNA, reshaping biology, and accelerating the evolution of every surviving organism. What few remnants of humanity persisted beneath the cataclysm slowly adapted. Over countless generations, their bodies grew stronger, their senses sharper, their souls bound more tightly to the living energy that saturated their world.
As the molten tides cooled and the storms subsided, continents emerged once more. Strange lands took form, carved from metallic mountains and obsidian deserts. Forests of crystal and iron trees grew where oceans once lay. Beasts of impossible design roamed freely, their veins glowing with URA light. Humanity, broken but not extinct, crawled back into existence and began the slow work of understanding the world that had replaced their own.
Knowledge of the old civilizations lingered only in fragments—records from the age of machines, scripts preserved within devices that somehow survived the inferno. Those who found them used this knowledge to rebuild. Yet as centuries turned to millennia, the outer colonies were forgotten. All communication with them vanished into silence. The survivors came to accept that they were alone.
In time, they gave their world a new name. They called it Atheris. No one remembered where the word came from. It was as if the name had always existed, engraved in the consciousness of every living being that walked its surface. The people who inhabited this reborn world began to call themselves Unveli, the Unveiled Ones, the inheritors of revelation and ruin. They believed that they had been chosen to witness the true face of rebirth, to stand as proof that even annihilation could not extinguish the will of existence.
Under the planet's crushing gravity, the Unveli evolved into beings of immense physical density. Their bones hardened, their muscles thickened, and their bodies adapted to an environment tenfold more demanding than the Earth of old. The URA that infused their world separated into distinct frequencies, each resonating differently within the living. This divergence shaped the future of the species, giving rise to the first races of Atheris, each one moulded by a unique relationship to the energy that governed their reborn world.
The NeoHumans emerged first, aligned with the URA-Type known as URATSU, the foundation of kinetic potential and the embodiment of transformation through endurance, this gave rise to their meta abilities known as augments.Then came the Elves, tied to RANU, the harmonic frequency of life, balance, and renewal they focused on.The Sparians followed, born under UKAI, a resonance that thrived in aggression, motion, and survival known for their resilience extreme power and regeneration.Lastly, the Yukari, bound to NINUDAI, the cold spectrum of perception and memory, the URA-Type of preservation and control there bodies denser and more resilient having adapting to the depths.
Each race became a living extension of the energy that had once ended all things. Together, they formed the new sentient tapestry of Atheris, a world forged in annihilation and sculpted by light that should never have existed.
They would look up at their blazing, red-gold sun and wonder what gods had been born in the fires that remade their world. Some said the Blank Nexus had not ended. Some believed it merely slept, waiting for the next cycle of rebirth to begin again.
And so, the myth of creation turned into the story of survival. Humanity's fall became the Unveli's rise. The universe had died, yet something greater had taken its place.