In the celestial halls of Verga, nestled within the sacred power palace that bridges reality and ether, 225 totems—gods of the infinite multiverse—gather in their grand seats. Each totem is a universe unto itself, a living principle wrapped in spectral force.
Among them rise the four Primal Totems:
Mazi, Totem of Creation—golden-veined and eternally dreaming. Zavir, Totem of Destruction—serene, silent, and shadowed. Aernis and Drakso, twin Totems of Protection—mirrored halves bound by contrast. Mako, the unblinking Totem of Death, watches quietly from the margins.
Drora, the King of Totems, stands. "If we reveal ourselves in the Totem Contest… what of our faces?"
Zavir responds, "We wear masks. But mortals see truth beyond symbols."
Mazi's eyes flare. "Then let the truth burn bright. The rules are simple:
Each day, select five mortals from across realms—randomly chosen devotees.
Judge their daily acts.
If one falls to vice—punish them.
If one rises in virtue—shield them from Death."
Mako blinks. "Then what of me?"
Aernis smiles faintly. "You shall only claim souls untouched by grace."
Drakso nods. "We protect once. If they waste it… they're yours."
A ripple of laughter stirs among the totems. Power hums, drawn from ether. Robes shimmer. Symbols pulse. But it's not magic that fuels them—it's Trust Value, whispered "TV."
"If mortals stop believing," Zavir warns, "we lose power."
Mazi slams his staff. "Then let us begin—not for ratings. But for reality."
And so the curtain rises.
The Totem Contest begins.