In the vast and enigmatic cosmos, where the laws of physics bend and twist into phenomena that defy comprehension, there exists a theory that whispers about the true nature of black holes. Far from being mere cosmic drains, these gravitational singularities are, according to this theory, portals, intricate tunnels that unfold into other universes. And in one of these parallel universes, a peculiar light shines: a planet known as Graviton.
Graviton is no ordinary world. It is a vibrant mosaic of cultures and civilizations, home to thousands of clans, each with its own traditions, hierarchies, and, most notably, innate powers. Among this myriad of societies, the Glacial Clan stands out, an ancestral lineage whose roots are lost in the depths of time, direct descendants of the primordial of water. Endowed with an intrinsic affinity for ice, the members of this clan manipulate temperatures and crystalline forms with a mastery that borders on the mystical. Their villages, carved into landscapes of eternal snow and ice, reflect the austerity and icy beauty of their heritage.
However, even with their extraordinary gifts, the Glacial Clan was not immune to the vicissitudes of existence. A prolonged scarcity of resources had cast a shadow over their lands, threatening the subsistence of their people. The once prosperous community now found itself on the brink of deprivation, with dwindling supplies and fading hope. Amidst this crisis, an old and persistent rumor resurfaced: the existence of a legendary structure, a repository of incalculable riches, guarded by formidable entities. The promise of abundance was tempting, but the price, the defeat of these guardians, was a risk few would dare to take.
Driven by desperate need and the unwavering courage that characterized their people, the leaders of the Glacial Clan made an audacious decision. They would assemble an expedition, the strongest and most resilient of their warriors, to unravel the mysteries of the structure and claim its treasures. The journey would be arduous, fraught with unknown dangers, but the alternative – the slow and painful decay of their clan – was unthinkable. With the fate of their people on their shoulders, the expedition set off, their hearts beating in unison with the promise of a better future, or the inevitable darkness of failure.
As they approached the entrance of the structure, an aura of antiquity and mystery hung in the air. The walls, carved from dark, polished rock, displayed intricate carvings that told stories of bygone eras. But what most caught the attention of the glacial explorers were the records left by other clans who had ventured there before them. Messages etched in ancient runes and pictographic warnings adorned the surfaces, alerting them to the "great curse" of that place. The inscriptions spoke of beings of unimaginable power, comparable to the very entity that gave rise to the stickman race – a primordial race, whose existence was almost mythical. The gravity of the warnings was palpable, but the Glacial Clan's determination surpassed any fear. They had come too far to turn back. The danger was evident, but the promise of salvation for their people was a brighter beacon than any shadow of threat. With a nod between the leaders, the expedition entered the depths of the structure, the echo of their footsteps resounding in the sepulchral silence.
The interior was a labyrinth of winding corridors and vast chambers, illuminated by a faint light that seemed to emanate from the walls themselves. The atmosphere was dense, charged with an ancient and oppressive energy. It wasn't long before the first guardian revealed itself. It was a colossal creature, made of stone and moss, with eyes that burned like embers. Its roar echoed through the chambers, a primordial sound that made the ground tremble. The attack was sudden and brutal, but the Glacial Clan, known for its discipline and coordination, reacted with impressive synchronicity. Defensive formations were quickly established, while the ice sorcerers conjured crystal barriers and launched icy projectiles. The battle was intense, a ballet of brute force and elemental magic. The guardian, despite its imposing presence, was no match for the unity and tactical prowess of the glacials. With precise blows and ice blasts that froze its joints, they managed to dismantle the creature, reducing it to rubble. The victory, though arduous, brought immense relief. The misery that haunted them seemed, finally, to begin to dissipate. However, the sense of triumph was brief. The curse, they knew, was not limited to a single guardian. It could be lurking in any corner, in any shadow. The journey was far from over, and caution was their best ally as they advanced into the heart of the structure.
Advancing through the depths of the structure, the Glacial Clan felt the pressure of the curse intensify with each step. The air grew heavier, and a sense of apprehension hung over them. Finally, after hours of cautious exploration, they reached the last room. It was a cavernous chamber, illuminated by a ghostly light that revealed a sinister scene. In the center, an ancient and ornate chest rested on a pedestal, but what most caught their attention was the chain that enveloped it, a chain forged in darkness and power, pulsating with malevolent energy – the curse itself. And, as if the curse had a life of its own, the final guardian awakened. It was not a stone creature like the previous one, but an ethereal entity, made of shadows and whispers, with eyes that seemed to suck in light itself. Its attack was immediate, a torrent of dark energy that forced the glacials to retreat.
The battle that followed was the most challenging yet. The warriors of the Glacial Clan, with their mastery over ice, launched blasts of freezing energy, trying to contain the shadowy entity. Ice crystals flew through the air, colliding with the shadows and creating a spectacle of light and darkness. The guardian, however, seemed immune to their attacks, reforming itself and counterattacking with relentless ferocity. The energy of the curse emanated from it, draining the strength and hope of the combatants. The situation was desperate. The chest, with its promises of salvation, was so close, but the insurmountable barrier of the guardian and the cursed chain seemed to seal their fate.
It was then that an audacious idea arose in the minds of the clan leaders. Zilla and Reuven, the two most powerful and wise among them, knew that brute force would not be enough. A solution was needed that transcended physical combat, something that could resist the very essence of the curse. They united, their minds and energies converging on a single purpose. In an ancestral ritual, they channeled their primordial essence, the icy power that ran in their veins, and molded it with the intention of creating a creature capable of withstanding the curse of the chain. Energy pulsed between them, forming a vortex of light and ice that gradually took shape. Slowly, a figure emerged from the glow, a being of ethereal constitution, but with an undeniable presence. They named him Taylor.
At the moment of his birth, Taylor emanated such colossal energy that it reverberated throughout the known universe. Kings of the six kingdoms, distant on their thrones, felt the tremor of power, a force they had never witnessed. It was pure, untamed energy, born of necessity and hope. Taylor, with his newly forged existence, was the key to the clan's liberation. Without hesitation, he approached the chest, his aura shining brightly. With a touch, he took the key that was attached to the chain and, with an effort that seemed almost insignificant for his newly awakened strength, opened the lock that held the curse. However, the instant the chain broke, something unexpected happened. A shadowy creature, a parasite of consciousness, leaped from the curse and lodged itself in Taylor's mind. In a flash, all his energy was sucked away, imprisoned and suppressed. The power that had shaken the universe was silenced, leaving Taylor devoid of his newly acquired glory.
Meanwhile, the leaders of the Glacial Clan, oblivious to Taylor's sacrifice, celebrated their victory. The chest was open, and within it, a fortune in resources and rarities awaited them. Misery had come to an end, and prosperity was within their grasp. They became rich, their clan flourishing again. But for Taylor, reality was cruel. He had lost all his powers, which were imprisoned by the curse. The one who had been created to be salvation, was now considered
"useless" by other clans and even by his own people. The irony was bitter: the savior had become the despised, a living reminder of the price of their salvation.
However, one of the leaders, Reuven, could not forget the overwhelming energy Taylor had emanated at his birth. That primordial force, though ephemeral, had left an indelible mark on his memory. He saw in Taylor not a failure, but dormant potential, a flame waiting to be rekindled. Zilla, on the other hand, was more pragmatic and less prone to sentimentality. For him, Taylor was a failed experiment, an empty vessel. The solution, in his mind, was simple: replicate the process, but with greater control, to prevent the loss of power. Thus, the two leaders, Zilla and Reuven, despite their different motivations, agreed to create another being similar to Taylor. They hoped that by refining the process, they could generate a new champion, one who could maintain his power and serve the clan's interests. From this second effort, Taylon was born.
Taylon was, in many respects, an imperfect copy of Taylor. Although he possessed a similar physical constitution and the same primordial origin, his energy was more contained, less explosive. Zilla, with his utilitarian view, treated Taylon as an inferior being, a mere substitute, a "failure" compared to the potential Taylor had shown, even if for a brief moment. This attitude, combined with the constant comparison to his older "brother," instilled in Taylon a deep resentment and hatred for Taylor. He saw Taylor not as a relative, but as a rival, an obstacle to his own ascent within the clan. The rivalry between the two brothers, born of ambition and contempt, would begin to shape their destinies in unexpected ways.
As tensions grew within the Glacial Clan, an announcement reverberated throughout Graviton: a local tournament would be held to decide who would be the new leader of the clan, replacing Reuven. The news stirred the clan's ranks, with ten participants stepping forward for the dispute. It was an opportunity for ascension, to prove one's worth and strength. For Taylor, however, it was a painful reminder of his own impotence. Stripped of his powers, he knew he had no chance to compete. The tournament was a mirror of his new reality, a reality where he was an outcast, a "useless" being.
With time running out and the tournament date approaching, Taylor, in his despair, sought a new direction. He had lost everything, but the flame of hope still burned in his heart. He decided to seek a new master, someone who could teach him how to regain what he had lost, or to find a new path to strength. His search led him to the clan of Lord Tzuriel, a legendary master known for his wisdom and his ability to awaken hidden potential in his disciples. Lord Tzuriel, upon hearing Taylor's story, saw beyond his apparent weakness. He perceived the resilience in his spirit, the determination in his eyes. He agreed to train him, but not without a challenge. He explained that, to become stronger, Taylor should consult the Forest of Perdition, a mystical labyrinth known for its illusions and dangers, and reach the cave it surrounded. Only there would he find the answers he sought.
Following his master's advice, Taylor entered the Forest of Perdition. The forest was a place of treacherous beauty, with twisted trees and dense fog that obscured the path. The illusions were constant, distorting reality and testing his sanity. He found himself trapped in a cycle of repeated paths, of deceptive visions that led him nowhere. With each step, the forest seemed to mock his determination. However, he persisted, remembering Lord Tzuriel's words and the promise of strength. Inside the forest, he encountered several beings of the monster race, grotesque and ferocious creatures that guarded the labyrinth's secrets. With great difficulty, and using his intelligence and agility, he fought and won, overcoming every obstacle the forest threw in his path. Each victory, however small, rekindled the flame of his hope, proving that, even without his powers, he was still capable of fighting and winning.
The great day of the tournament finally arrived. The arena was packed, with clans from all over Graviton gathered to witness the dispute for the new leader. The atmosphere was electric, charged with anticipation and rivalry. For Taylor, it was a mixture of nervousness and a strange sense of resignation. He knew his chances were minimal, but Lord Tzuriel's promise and the hope of a new beginning propelled him forward. The drawing of lots revealed what seemed to be a cruel twist of fate: his first fight would be against his younger brother, Taylon. Taylon's hatred for Taylor was palpable, and he saw this fight as the perfect opportunity to humiliate the one he considered a failure.
The fight began with an explosion of energy. Taylon, with his ice powers, attacked ferociously, launching sharp blasts and creating crystal barriers. Taylor, despite all his training in the Forest of Perdition, felt the disparity in power. He tried to use his agility and the techniques he had learned, but it was like fighting an avalanche. Every blow from Taylon pushed him back, every ice blast forced him to desperately dodge. He couldn't even get close to his brother, who seemed to revel in his superiority. The audience, who once looked at him with pity, now watched him with disdain. The humiliation was complete. Taylor was defeated, and the defeat was overwhelming. He felt the weight of his own clan's contempt, the confirmation that he was, indeed, "useless."
The other tournament fights unfolded, and Taylor, despite his initial defeat, still had a chance to dispute a possible rematch. He fought with what remained of his strength and determination, but the result was the same. He lost again, confirming his inability to compete with the other clan members. The decision was swift and brutal: for having lost to all his brothers, Taylor was expelled from the family. The one who was once the hope of the Glacial Clan was now an exile, homeless, purposeless, and without the support of his own blood. The pain of rejection was sharper than any blow he had received in the arena.
Aimlessly, Taylor began to wander. His steps led him away from the glacial lands, to unknown and inhospitable regions of Graviton. Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months, as he walked without destination, his mind consumed by hopelessness. He was exhausted, both physically and mentally, when he finally found something. It was not a place of rest, nor a safe haven, but a being of the virus race. These creatures were a feared threat in Graviton, stickmen who had been contaminated by an intelligent virus, capable of manipulating minds and corrupting the essence of their victims. The encounter was inevitable. The virus being, with its empty eyes and erratic movements, advanced on Taylor, seeking to infect him as well.
Taylor, even in his state of exhaustion and despair, tried to fight. He invoked the techniques Lord Tzuriel had taught him, but it was useless. The virus race was many times stronger than common stickmen, and the energy emanating from them was oppressive. He had no way to escape. The fight was one-sided, and Taylor was brutally beaten, his bones aching with every blow. Consciousness began to fade, and he felt the virus infiltrate his mind, whispering promises of power and darkness. He was on the verge of losing himself completely, of becoming another puppet of the virus, when, in a flash of light, a virus hunter appeared. With a swift and precise movement of his sword, the hunter broke the stone that controlled the virus being, freeing Taylor from his imminent torment. Salvation came from where he least expected it, a ray of hope amidst the darkness of his misfortune.
With the timely intervention of the virus hunter, Taylor was saved from a terrible fate. The hunter, a serious-faced individual with keen eyes, observed Taylor with a mixture of curiosity and evaluation. He saw not only the momentary weakness, but the resilience and latent potential that still resided in the young man. A proposal was then presented: that Taylor become a virus hunter. It was an opportunity for redemption, a new purpose in his aimless life. Without hesitation, Taylor accepted. The idea of fighting against the creatures that almost consumed him, of using his experience to protect others, resonated deeply within his spirit.
Taylor was taken to the virus hunters' association, a place that fascinated him from the very first moment. It was not a grand palace, but a refuge of strength and determination. He saw many individuals who, in some way, had their powers sealed or possessed few innate abilities, but who, paradoxically, carried immense energy in their swords. It was a different kind of energy, not the elemental magic he knew, but a force forged in discipline and will. He felt that this was his place, an environment where strength was not defined solely by brute power, but by cunning, courage, and the ability to wield a weapon with purpose. The association's blacksmith, a master of his craft, began to forge Taylor's sword, a weapon that would be an extension of his own will. While the sword was being forged, the association's mentors recommended that he have a companion, someone to share the burdens and dangers of missions.
Thus, Taylor embarked on his first mission. The objective was simple: go to a city and investigate the possible presence of a virus. Accompanied by his new partner, an experienced and taciturn hunter, Taylor felt a mixture of apprehension and excitement. The journey was smooth, and upon arriving in the city, they began their investigation. Days passed in search of signs, of any indication of viral presence, but nothing was found. The city seemed clean, free from corruption. It was then that they learned the truth: the virus had already been defeated by another hunter, a veteran who had arrived before them. The mission, though unfruitful in terms of combat, served as a baptism of fire for Taylor, familiarizing him with the protocols and routine of the hunters.
After a period of waiting and continuous training, a new mission arose. This time, the call was to check a portal. Reports indicated that something strange was happening in its vicinity, an anomaly that required the hunters' attention. Taylor and his companion agreed to go, feeling that this mission would be different. There was a tension in the air, a sense that something grand and dangerous awaited them on the other side of the dimensional veil. The preparation was meticulous, and Taylor's determination, now a rising hunter, was unwavering. He was ready to face whatever the portal held for them.
Upon reaching the portal, an ancient structure pulsating with energy, Taylor and his companion felt a strange pull. The portal's surface shimmered with vibrant colors and distorted sounds, as if it were in constant flux between realities. With a final determined look, they crossed the threshold, immediately enveloped by a sense of disorientation. The environment changed dramatically. It was no ordinary place, but an entire dimension dedicated to viruses, a chaotic and unpredictable realm where viral creatures thrived in their diverse forms and hierarchies. The air was dense with a strange energy, and the landscape was a tapestry of organic shapes and shifting colors, reflecting the constantly mutating nature of its inhabitants.
To Taylor and his companion's surprise, most of the viruses they encountered were incredibly weak. They were like minor parasites, easily dispatched with precise strikes of their swords. The hunter duo moved efficiently, their blades cutting through the air with fluidity, eliminating the lesser threats with surprising ease. With each victory, Taylor's confidence grew, and he felt the energy of his sword vibrate in his hands. However, the calm was broken when a high-ranking virus emerged. Its presence was imposing, emanating an aura of power and malevolence that made the air tremble. It was a gigantic creature, with tentacles that whipped through the air and eyes that glowed with a cold, calculating intelligence. The fight became brutal, a life-or-death struggle. The high-ranking virus was relentless, its attacks swift and devastating, forcing the hunters to use all their skills and strategies.
Amidst the chaos of battle, Taylor's companion suffered a massive attack. A tentacle from the virus struck him with overwhelming force, throwing him against a rock wall and rendering him unconscious. The sight of his fallen friend, helpless, ignited a fury in Taylor. But, paradoxically, this fury did not blind him; instead, it brought a chilling, focused calm. He felt something awaken within him, a reserve of power he didn't know he possessed. In an act of pure will, Taylor used all his energy, forcing himself to transcend his limits. He felt his body vibrate, his muscles contract, and a wave of power erupted from him. It was an overwhelming sensation, but he controlled it, channeling it into his sword. With a cry of determination, he launched a final attack, a blow that concentrated all his fury and his newfound strength. The high-ranking virus, caught off guard by the intensity of the attack, was finally defeated, disintegrating into a cloud of dark dust. However, the effort was immense. Taylor, exhausted and trembling, also fell unconscious, his body succumbing to the power overload.
When Taylor and his companion awoke, the first thing they noticed was the gentle breeze and the smell of damp earth. They were no longer in the chaotic dimension of viruses, but lying in a verdant field, under a blue sky dotted with clouds. The transition was so abrupt that for a moment they wondered if it hadn't all been a feverish dream. However, the pain in their bodies and the exhaustion they felt were undeniable witnesses to the battle they had fought. Beside them, a letter was neatly folded, held down by a small stone. The handwriting was elegant and unfamiliar, but the message was clear and concise: "If you pass the academy, then I will train you personally." Along with the letter, there was a formal recommendation to the academy, an invitation to a new chapter in their lives. The one who had saved them, the mysterious virus hunter, had given them a new chance, a path to hone their skills and, perhaps, find answers to the questions that plagued them.
With the letter of recommendation in hand, Taylor and his companion headed to the academy. It was an imposing institution, with grand architecture and well-maintained gardens, a center of knowledge and training for future virus hunters. There, they were immersed in a rigorous regimen of theoretical and practical classes. They learned about the anatomy and behavior of viruses, combat strategies, and tracking tactics. But the academy offered more than just combat training. They also had the opportunity to learn about the fauna and flora of that world, discovering the complexity and beauty of Graviton's ecosystem. One of the discoveries that most intrigued Taylor was the bioluminescent plant, a rare species that, upon dying, exploded into a cloud of shimmering spores to spread its seeds. Taylor's curiosity, always latent, was awakened by these natural wonders, and he felt a growing desire to deepen his knowledge.
Driven by this new thirst for knowledge, Taylor began to frequent the local library, a vast repository of ancient scrolls and dusty tomes, conveniently located within the academy itself. He spent hours poring over books, absorbing information about Graviton's history, science, and legends. It was during one of these study sessions that something extraordinary happened. Accidentally, while touching a book that seemed out of place, a secret door opened. It was not an ordinary door, but a hidden passage behind a bookshelf, revealing a narrow corridor that led to an even older library, hidden within the wall itself. Taylor's curiosity was immediately piqued. He entered the enclosure, feeling the weight of history in every particle of dust that floated in the air.
The atmosphere of the secret library was unlike anything he had ever seen. Everything there seemed incredibly ancient, as if time had stopped centuries ago. Some scriptures were made on polished stones, with engraved symbols that seemed to belong to a forgotten era. Others were on old, fragile papers, their edges yellowed by time. However, there was a problem: the letters were illegible to him. They seemed to belong to an ancestral language, whose secrets had been lost. Taylor, however, remembered a magic that, according to legends, everyone could use, as long as they possessed at least a spark of energy. It was an ancient magic, so old that few believed in its existence, considering it merely a legend described in his own clan's books. With a mixture of hope and skepticism, he concentrated his energy, trying to invoke the magic. To his surprise, and with a slight tremor in his hands, the magic worked. The illegible letters began to twist and transform, revealing their meaning. Taylor began to read, delving into knowledge that had remained hidden for ages.
In the dusty pages and engraved stones of the secret library, Taylor found a kind of diary, a meticulous record of beings he had never even imagined: humans. The descriptions were fascinating, narrating an advanced civilization that inhabited a planet called Earth, a vibrant world full of life, but which, somehow, was connected to his own universe through a cosmic phenomenon. The diary detailed the observation of a black hole, a gravitational anomaly that, for humans, was an object of intense study and scientific curiosity. And within this black hole, to Taylor's surprise, there was something he also didn't know: a planet remarkably similar to Earth. The idea of a mirrored world, trapped in the depths of a singularity, was almost incomprehensible to his mind, accustomed to the legends and magic of Graviton.
The records continued, describing how humans, after countless analyses and in-depth research, driven by their insatiable quest for knowledge, developed an extraordinary machine. This invention, which defied the laws of physics as Taylor knew them, was capable of distorting space-time, allowing them to travel at speeds greater than that of light. The concept of "speed of light" and "spatial distortion" were completely alien to his understanding, but the magnitude of the discovery and the audacity of the human endeavor captivated him. He read with increasing eagerness, absorbing every word, every idea, even if the scientific concepts were too complex for his immediate comprehension. That diary was a window into a distant past, to a civilization that had achieved feats that the Glacial Clan, with all its magic, would never dream of.
After hours of uninterrupted reading, Taylor discovered the core of the narrative: three of these humans, the bravest and most visionary, decided to embark on a research mission to explore the mysterious planet within the black hole. The journey was long and dangerous, but they managed to reach their destination. However, what they found was not the paradise they might have expected. The planet was in an advanced state of degradation, being inexorably sucked into the black hole, its structure unraveling under the overwhelming gravitational force. Despite the imminent destruction, there was still life, but not in the complex form they knew. They were microorganisms, resilient life forms clinging to existence amidst the chaos.
It was then that the inevitable happened. The three humans were sucked into the black hole. The phenomenon of "spaghettification," described in the diaries with terrifying precision, transformed them. Their bodies were stretched and elongated, becoming thin as threads, while retaining some of their original characteristics. However, they lost a large part of their anatomy, their vital energy, and their resistance. They emerged on the other side completely altered, no longer humans as they were, but transmuted beings, with powers that transcended mortal comprehension. These three were the first ancestors: Nexus, who received the power of the black hole, a force of attraction and annihilation; Cosmo, who was graced with the power of the white hole, a source of creation and repulsion; and the third, the most powerful of all, who received both powers – becoming an entity of cosmic balance and imbalance – Chromos. The revelation of the ancestors' origin, legendary beings in Graviton, left Taylor astonished. They were not gods or spirits, but beings of flesh and blood, transformed by a cosmic event of unimaginable proportions.
But the story did not end there. One of the microorganisms from that dying planet, a cunning and adaptable virus, managed to survive the journey through the black hole and arrived in this new universe. And, inexplicably, this virus gained consciousness. To ensure the survival of its species, it sought a host, and found in Chromos the perfect vessel. The virus inhabited Chromos's body, taking control of his mind and corrupting his essence. Nexus and Cosmo, realizing their brother's terrible transformation, tried to calm him, but it was too late. Chromos was completely dominated by the virus, his mind and body now serving a new and sinister will. He came to be known as Cronos, a shadow of his former self, a herald of destruction and discord. The revelation that Cronos, the great villain of legends, was actually an ancestor corrupted by a virus, deeply shocked Taylor. The history of his world, of its myths and heroes, was intrinsically linked to these beings from another universe, to these humans transformed by the cosmos.
A great battle erupted between the ancestors. Nexus and Cosmo, with their newly acquired powers, faced Cronos in a conflict of cosmic proportions. The clash of their energies resonated throughout the universe, altering the stellar landscape and creating new nebulae from the dust of their collisions. Nexus, with the gravitational force of the black hole, tried to contain Cronos's uncontrolled fury, while Cosmo, with the repulsive power of the white hole, sought to push him away and purify the corruption that enveloped him. The fight was fierce and relentless, a duel of titans that seemed to have no end. Explosions of energy tore through the fabric of space, and reality itself seemed to bend to the will of these primordial beings. Finally, after an exhausting struggle, Nexus and Cosmo believed they had defeated Cronos. His body, though not destroyed, was weakened and inert, and the malignant aura that surrounded him seemed to have diminished. Exhausted, but victorious, the two ancestors sought a place to rest and recover. They found refuge on a new planet, a world in formation that would come to be known as Graviton.
Before surrendering to their well-deserved rest, Nexus and Cosmo, aware of the universe's fragility and the need to maintain balance, used their powers to create the primordials. These entities, born from cosmic essence and the will of the ancestors, would be the guardians of the elements and the fundamental forces of the universe. Each primordial received a specific domain, a responsibility that would shape the future of Graviton. However, peace was illusory. Cronos, though weakened, had not been defeated. The virus that inhabited him was resilient, and he slowly began to recover, accumulating power in the shadows. Aware that the newly created primordials could pose a threat to him, Cronos, in an act of cunning and self-preservation, proposed a truce. His condition was the creation of the World Tournament, a grand event where the warriors of Graviton would fight against the infected, the beings corrupted by the virus, in exchange for fame and power. The primordials, with few options and seeking to avoid an even greater conflict, accepted the proposal. It was a pact with the devil, but a necessary pact to ensure the survival of their world.
Thus, with the truce established and the World Tournament underway, the descendants of the primordials and the six kingdoms were created. Each kingdom, ruled by a king, represented an aspect of primordial power, a manifestation of the cosmic energy that flowed through Graviton. In total, seven primordials were established: the primordial of nature, who governed the forests and wildlife; the primordial of speed, master of movement and agility; the primordial of water, ancestor of the Glacial Clan and lord of oceans and rivers; the primordial of plasma, who controlled energy and heat; the primordial of elasticity, with dominion over form and malleability; and the primordial of space-time, who manipulated dimensions and the very structure of reality. The seventh primordial, the primordial of time, was a singular entity. Unlike the others, he did not found a kingdom, preferring to observe the flow of existence from outside, intervening only when the cosmic balance was at risk. The creation of the kingdoms and the organization of the World Tournament established a new order in Graviton, an order that, although seemingly peaceful, carried the seeds of future conflicts and the persistent shadow of Cronos's influence.
The great day of the final test at the academy arrived, a decisive milestone that would define the future of Taylor and his companion. The tension was palpable, as the result would determine if they would be worthy of training personally with the mysterious mentor who had left the letter of recommendation. Taylor, with his renewed determination and the knowledge acquired in the secret library, felt more prepared than ever. The test was a comprehensive assessment of his theoretical and practical skills, requiring not only strength, but also intelligence and adaptability. He passed first, with a performance that surprised many, demonstrating a deep understanding of the concepts and impeccable execution of the techniques. His companion, immediately after, also succeeded, confirming both their aptitude for the next level of training.
With their approval at the academy, Taylor and his companion were taken to the hunters' dimension, a specialized training realm where only the most promising were accepted. It was a place of rigorous discipline and constant challenges, designed to hone the hunters' skills and transform them into true masters. The atmosphere was unlike anything Taylor had ever experienced, an environment where the pursuit of excellence was the sole priority. It was there, amidst the corridors and training grounds, that Taylor had an unexpected reunion. Reuven, one of the leaders of the Glacial Clan and one of Taylor's creators, was present. The one who had seen the potential in Taylor, even when everyone else scorned him, would now be his mentor. It was a full circle, a return to his origins, but with a new perspective. His companion, in turn, was directed to train with the one who had saved them, the enigmatic virus hunter who had left the letter, thus fulfilling the promise of personal training.
The old leader, Reuven, began to train Taylor, not only in combat techniques, but also in the art of mastering his own energy and understanding the complexity of his existence. Reuven, with his vast experience and wisdom, taught Taylor how to channel the energy that had been suppressed by the curse, how to transform it into a controllable and powerful force. He guided him through deep meditations and rigorous exercises, helping Taylor reconnect with his primordial essence. The training was exhausting, but Taylor absorbed every teaching eagerly, feeling stronger and more complete with each passing day. He learned to manipulate ice in ways he never imagined, to create impenetrable barriers and launch projectiles with deadly precision. More importantly, he learned to trust himself, to believe in his own potential, even in the face of adversity. With each day, the shadow of humiliation and scorn diminished, replaced by a growing sense of purpose and power.
After the intensive training, Taylor and his companion, now fully capable virus hunters, decided to enter the World Tournament. It was the perfect opportunity to test their new skills and prove their worth on a global stage. They passed through the preliminaries with relative ease, their refined techniques and impeccable coordination setting them apart from the competitors. With each victory, Taylor's confidence grew, and he felt the energy of his sword vibrate in his hands. However, the tournament held an even greater challenge. Taylor found himself facing an incredibly strong opponent, an adversary whose skills surpassed his own. The fight was a test of his limits, a confrontation that would force him to use everything he had learned. The tension in the arena was palpable, and Taylor's fate seemed uncertain. But, amidst the battle, something extraordinary was about to happen, something that would change the course of his life forever.
As Taylor faced his formidable opponent in the World Tournament, a dark and ancient presence watched the fight from the stands. It was the ancestral virus, the very entity that had corrupted Chromos and given rise to Cronos. It was there, not out of interest in the tournament itself, but drawn by the peculiar energy emanating from Taylor, an energy it recognized as remnants of primordial power. The curse, the consciousness parasite that had imprisoned Taylor's powers at his birth, also felt the presence of the ancestral virus. In a desperate act of self-preservation and control, the curse tried to manipulate Cronos, the ancestral virus's host, seeking to reassert its dominance. However, the power of the ancestral virus was far superior. In an instant, the curse was defeated, disintegrating into a dark mist and freeing Taylor from its yoke. The seal that held his powers was broken, and a torrent of primordial energy, long suppressed, erupted from his body.
Taylor emanated an overwhelming energy, an aura of power that made the air vibrate and the arena structures tremble. His eyes glowed with an icy intensity, and the ground beneath his feet began to freeze. The opponent, once so confident, recoiled, feeling the weight of that newly awakened force. Taylor, with a voice that echoed with the power of a thousand winters, uttered the words that would seal the fate of the fight: "ABSOLUTE ZERO." The air around him began to cool drastically, the temperature dropping to unimaginable levels. The tournament barrier, designed to contain the combatants' energy, instantly froze, transforming into a translucent crystal wall. Everything inside the barrier, except Taylor, was frozen at atomic levels, paralyzed in a moment of time. Cronos himself, who watched the fight with morbid interest, was surprised. That level of control over ice, that manifestation of power, was something he did not expect from a being he considered "useless."
As soon as the fight ended, with Taylor's overwhelming victory, he was taken to rest, his body still vibrating with the newly released energy. However, the peace was brief. An even higher-level virus, attracted by Taylor's explosion of power, attacked him. It was a gigantic creature, with an aura of malevolence that surpassed anything he had ever faced. Even using all his strength and his new abilities, Taylor was losing. The virus was relentless, its attacks devastating, and exhaustion began to take its toll. He was on the verge of defeat, when a familiar figure appeared. It was not who he wanted, not an ally to help him in battle, but Cronos. The ancestral virus, with a cruel smile on its face, applauded the "spectacle" of Taylor's fight, declaring its interest in the power Taylor carried within him. Cronos's presence, and his apparent indifference to the danger Taylor faced, only increased the young hunter's fury. He knew the battle was far from over, and that Graviton's fate might depend on what happened next.
At the moment Cronos revealed his interest in Taylor's latent energy, an aura even more powerful than any known curse or creature erupted from that place. It was not Taylor's energy, but an ancestral force, a call that reverberated through the confines of Graviton. Instantly, the six kings of the realms, the rulers of lands and elements, felt the tremor and materialized at the scene of the confrontation. Their presences were imposing, each emanating the power of their respective primordial. The King of Nature, with his verdant aura, the King of Speed, an almost invisible blur, the King of Water, with the coldness of the oceans, the King of Plasma, with the heat of a miniature sun, the King of Elasticity, with his mutable form, and the King of Space-Time, who seemed to bend reality itself around him. They did not come to observe, but to fight. The threat of Cronos, the ancestral virus, was too great to be ignored, and the presence of such a powerful energy, like the one Taylor emanated, was a sign that the cosmic balance was at stake.
A great fight began. The kings, with their primordial powers, attacked Cronos in unison. Blasts of elemental energy, temporal shockwaves, and spatial manipulations clashed against the shadowy form of the ancestral virus. The battle was a spectacle of destruction and power, with the very fabric of reality being tested. Taylor, despite his exhaustion and the injuries from the previous fight, felt an uncontrollable urge to help. He threw himself into the battle, wielding his sword and using his newly discovered ice abilities to support the kings. However, his strength, though considerable, was still no match for the magnitude of the conflict. In an instant, he was thrown far away, his body colliding with the debris of the arena. The pain was intense, but the frustration of not being able to contribute, of being a mere spectator in such a crucial fight, was even greater.
It was in this moment of despair, of his ardent desire to help and protect, that something extraordinary happened. The primordials, in their ancestral wisdom, had planted a seed of power within Taylor at his birth, a contingency for a moment of extreme need. And now, with his unwavering will and altruistic spirit, that seed germinated. The power of all primordials, the essence of nature, speed, water, plasma, elasticity, and space-time, awakened within him. A multicolored energy erupted from his body, enveloping him in a dazzling glow. He felt the strength of the earth beneath his feet, the speed of the wind in his veins, the fluidity of water in his movements, the heat of plasma in his hands, the malleability of form in his body, and the ability to manipulate space-time around him. Taylor was no longer just a virus hunter; he was an avatar of the primordials, a manifestation of their combined power. With this new force, he rose, his eyes glowing with renewed determination, and joined the fight against Cronos, now on equal footing with the kings and the primordials.
Even with the union of the kings and Taylor's newly awakened primordial power, the battle against Cronos was still an arduous struggle. The ancestral virus, with its cunning and centuries of accumulated energy, was a formidable adversary. It moved with a speed and ferocity that defied comprehension, its attacks calculated and devastating, exploiting every weakness and every opening in its opponents' defense. The primordials, though powerful, felt the pressure. With each blow, each explosion of energy, Cronos seemed to grow stronger, absorbing the very essence of the conflict. Hope began to waver, and exhaustion set in the hearts of the combatants. The situation was desperate, and defeat seemed imminent.
It was then that Cronos, in an act of arrogance and despair, revealed his true power. An aura of darkness and malevolence, accumulated over centuries of corruption and manipulation, erupted from him. It was a force so overwhelming that it made the very fabric of space-time twist. The air became heavy, the light dimmed, and an invisible pressure forced all present to their knees. The kings, the primordials, and even Taylor, with his newly awakened power, were subjugated by the magnitude of that energy. Cronos laughed, a guttural, distorted sound that echoed like thunder, feeling victory in his hands. He was at the peak of his power, ready to consume Graviton and spread his corruption throughout the universe.
But this gigantic and oppressive manifestation of power, paradoxically, awakened those Cronos least desired. Far away, in the depths of the cosmos, the ancestors – Nexus and Cosmo – felt the tremor. Cronos's energy, once a part of them, now distorted and amplified, acted as a beacon, calling them from their millennial slumber. They, who had recovered and strengthened at their own pace, were now much more powerful than before. In a flash of light, a blinding light tore through Graviton's sky, and two imposing figures materialized on the battlefield. They were Nexus and Cosmo, their eyes glowing with cold determination and contained fury. They uttered not a word, did not hesitate. In a synchronized movement, with a speed that defied perception, they reached Cronos. The blow was unique, a punch delivered with the combined force of two beings who had manipulated black and white holes. The impact was so colossal that it echoed 124 times throughout Graviton, a reverberation that shook the planet to its foundations. Cronos, caught by surprise and crushed by the overwhelming force of his creators, was launched into space, a dark stain against the glow of the stars. The battle continued in the depths of the cosmic vacuum, a final duel between creation and corruption, between hope and despair. And there, in the silence of space, the ancestors finally defeated the virus, putting an end to its threat once and for all.
When Nexus and Cosmo returned to Graviton, the atmosphere of relief and gratitude was palpable. The threat of Cronos had been eradicated, and peace, finally, could reign. They observed Taylor, who, despite his exhaustion, radiated an energy that was both familiar and new. The manifestation of the power of all primordials within him, driven by his altruistic desire to protect, had revealed a potential that not even they, the ancestors, had foreseen. Taylor was not just a virus hunter, nor just a member of the Glacial Clan; he had transcended his own existence, becoming a catalyst for harmony and life.
In a gesture of recognition and profound wisdom, Nexus and Cosmo, before the kings and primordials, named Taylor as the new Primordial of Life. It was a title that transcended realms and lineages, a recognition of his ability to nurture, protect, and inspire existence. Taylor, once the "useless" one, the exile, the despised, had ascended to the highest echelon of power and purpose. His journey, marked by losses and triumphs, culminated in a redemption that was not only personal, but cosmic. He became the guardian of the very essence of life, a beacon of hope in a universe that had known darkness. And so, the saga of Taylor, the Primordial of Life, concluded, but his legend, and the legacy of his journey, would live forever in the stars of Graviton.
THE END