Currently, on the planet Zha'Korath, within the vast expanses of Cael'Thar, two beings were clashing.
One was working a giant scythe; his age and the size of the scythe seemed to change each second.
The other had a red mandala above him; he was wearing a sword designed to cut through even a planet.
These two Throne-bearers clashed.
The world crumbled behind them,
but the planet did not die—each time the planet crumbled, it got restored as before.
And so, it endured.
Absolute laws trembled with each strike.
Every swing of the scythe or blade made reality itself flinch.
The laws of space had already been shattered long ago, destroyed by the bearer of the Throne of War.
Now, even the concept of existence itself threatened to unravel.
Under normal conditions, their armies would have fought in their place.
But one attacked the other personally.
And he had no choice but to respond.
"Stop this, Chaos!"
But Chaos doesn't answer, swinging his sword.
They continued to fight.
Worlds collapsed. Laws dissolved.
And yet—they did not care.
They no longer cared.
They both sought only one thing:
To destroy the being in front of them.
if it still could be called a "being."
It would be more accurate to say that Time doesn't really want to kill Chaos, he simply wanted to stop this fight, he was not someone who loved fighting after all.
Suddenly, Chaos struck Time in the abdomen, sending him crashing down to the broken planet below.
"Do we really have to do this, Chaos" Time coughed, blood trailing from his mouth as he stood himself up from the ground "That's what he wanted, don't you understand."
But Chaos was far beyond the phase where he was one to be reasoned with.
***
Elsewhere, far beyond their battlefield.
on the planet Elaruun,
the bearer of the Throne of War was setting in motion a terrifying plan.
one that would reshape the course of the war…
and bring it one step closer to its final conclusion.
-------------------------------------------
In the current era.
Somewhere, far above all creation, beyond millions of world, stood nine thrones.
These thrones were absolutely majestic; it seemed they had been crafted by an incredible artisan to be nothing short of perfect.
Each of them bore a unique symbol at the top:
One had an hourglass, with its sand frozen in the middle.
Another displayed a majestic and glorious scythe.
A third held a book that seemed to contain the wisdom of the entire Universe.
The thrones were extremely detailed and stunning. Though completely black, they reflected countless colors in the eyes of those who looked at them, as they were alive.
They were arranged in a circle, and at the center floated countless Worlds, Galaxies, and Universes.
Upon these thrones sat nine figures.
These nine figures looked down with indifference at the countless universes below. As if they were irritated to be here.
Those nine supreme beings were incredibly powerful, they could crush the myriad worlds as if they were mere insects. Yet, they were lonely.
Seated on one of the nine thrones was a child, who couldn't have been more than ten, licking what appeared to be an ice cream cone.
The mysterious child gazed upward, as though reading something unseen.. Something beyond comprehension.
What was it that he was reading? No one could tell.
Suddenly, the child's eyes snapped open, wide with shock. His ice cream tumbled from his hand and vanished into the endless void beneath his throne. No sound echoed back, the abyss had no bottom.
The child failed to maintain his emotions, his hair stood on end, the air suddenly became heavy and difficult to breathe. A slight crack appeared on his throne, as even the perfect throne failed to withstand the pressure. Countless worlds were instantly destroyed by the overwhelming force.
A scene flew through the mind of the god of time in an instant, a scene of him fighting someone unknown, someone as strong as a throne owner. Then, words written in flesh started flashing through his eyes, he understood something, The War Is Coming.
The blurry figure of the voluptuous woman to his right clicked her tongue in annoyance. It seemed this wasn't the child's first failure.
Everyone turned their gaze toward the child, curious yet prepared. If the child tried anything, they wouldn't let themselves be pushed around.
Especially the blurry figure in front of the child, with gorgeous purple hair that fell to his lower back. It seemed he wanted the child to make a move. This person was far too dangerous, even for the child. So he managed to properly regain control of his emotions a few seconds later.
Yet, even after regaining his emotions, his ears still caught echoes of something else. He could still understand what others said—but it was difficult, as if their voices came from behind a veil of memories.
An angelic-looking man, standing to the left of the purple-haired one, was releasing a thick mist from his hand as he asked:
"What is it, Silas? Why did you fail to maintain your demeanor? It's the second time in an eternity. Since when can someone like you, not control yourself?"
A woman with a gigantic, frightening smile added another layer while laughing.
"Have you finally gone senile, old man? You were the first one here, after all."
The child seemed annoyed by both, but he answered calmly.
"My apologises, but i had no choice, I saw it after all."
"What did you see?"
The child rose from his seat, raised his voice replied with a slight smile. His hearing seemed to worsen with each passing second, but he had to speak—he had to tell them.
"It's coming
The War is coming !"
After speaking, his vision began to blur, and he failed to hear what they said next. It seemed it would take several years before his senses returned to him fully.
For an instant, all the others looked shocked. As the news was nothing but life changing.
Then, the purple-haired man burst into laughter.
"It's finally here."
A third women replied, her whole face were blurry and she had no special trait, as she was faceless.
"It was indeed a good reason."
All of them looked excited except the angelic man. Who seems unwilling to fight.
They had waited for countless years.
But why were almost all of them so thrilled?
Because this was no ordinary war.
Not a petty conflict.
It's THE War.
The great War.
It was a war that would change everything in the hundred million worlds, A war that would affect every lifeform.
Then, in perfect unison, they spoke:
Their voices whisper across hundreds of millions of worlds, as if nothing could stop them.
"The Great War for the [---] will finally begin !
-------------------------------------------
Elsewhere, far, far below those nine thrones, stood the Ash Realm.
A planet-sized Human World, composed of three continents:
A land of ash where no human can live. Its rivers are lava and its mountains, volcanoes: the Tharagon Continent.
A vast desert, devoid of water or trees, inhabited only by monsters: the Solkara Continent.
And a beautiful land of half plains, half forests, where most of humanity resides: the Aerindel Continent.
Somewhere in the Aerindel Continent, beneath a scarlet moon shining brighter than ever before.
In a small forest stood a bright little house.
A child was born.
He looked so fragile and thin, as if anything could easily break him.
His only remarkable trait was the color of his hair: red.
His name was Sirius Altharys.