The rain outside the tavern of the Middle Ages world had long since stopped, leaving behind a silvery sheen upon the cobblestones. Lyra sat in silence, her fingers lightly tracing the edge of her cup. Across from her, Ragnar's crimson eyes gleamed faintly beneath the flickering candlelight. For a long while, he said nothing, and Lyra could not tell if he was thinking, remembering, or simply struggling to find words heavy enough to carry the truth.
Finally, he lifted his gaze, and in that moment, his expression was that of someone who had seen too many lifetimes, too many endings. "I am not entirely human," he began quietly, his voice low yet steady. "Or rather… I was not human. Not in the way you understand it."
Lyra blinked. "What do you mean?"
Ragnar leaned back, the chair creaking slightly under his weight. The candlelight flickered, casting his shadow tall and distorted upon the wall. "My true nature," he continued, "is not born of flesh, but of energy and will. I am a consciousness born inside Voltrabot—one of seven Power Spheres that exist across universes. And just as I am the spirit of Voltra's lightning, there are others—Tempestbot, Crystalbot, Novabot, Blizzardbot, Junglebot, and Gammabot. We are all manifestations of the elements themselves."
Lyra's lips parted, but no sound came. Her heart pounded as realization washed over her. She wanted to speak, to ask something, yet she knew that the story he was about to tell was older than both of them, older than the worlds they now stood in. Ragnar's tone turned softer, almost reminiscent.
"We were born in the age of the first Masters," he said, "when the universe still whispered new songs and light had not yet divided from darkness…"
In another world—one of ruins and endless nights where the dead roamed—the air was cold and heavy. From atop the watchtower of the abandoned military base, the moon hung large and dim behind the curtain of fog. Noctus stood against the railing, the gleam of his Razorgale whirlwind scythe glinting faintly. Artemis watched him, her hands clasped together, the wind tugging at her silver hair.
After a long silence, Noctus finally spoke. His words came out soft, yet the weight in them was immeasurable.
"We awakened when the first masters made contact with us," he said, eyes fixed on the distant, lifeless horizon. "Voltra was Satriantar Ratna… I, Tempest, was Princess Kuputeri. Crystal belonged to Hang Kasa. Nova's bearer was Warmaster Pyrapi. Blizzard was Mas Mawais. Jungle's was King Balakung. And Gamma's… was Retak'ka."
He paused, his tone growing somber. "They never knew of our consciousness. They only felt our power and wielded it as their own. But we—inside those Spheres—were aware of everything. We watched them grow, struggle, fight… They were called the Elemental Masters, rulers of the primal forces. But even they could not escape the corruption of power."
Noctus's eyes hardened, reflecting the moonlight like silver glass. "They were warriors of justice and right once, and yet their story did not end with glory. Because one of us—one of our bearers—chose to betray the balance."
In the ocean world, where water swallowed land and sky, the rhythmic hum of the waves beneath the massive airship Arkworld AW-03 echoed faintly. Tiama's hands rested on her knees as Gaiard sat across from her, his gaze distant. The soft vibration of the engines filled the silence.
"…Everything was normal," Gaiard began quietly, "until Retak'ka changed."
Tiama looked up, her sapphire eyes sharp with attention.
"Driven mad by his thirst for dominance," Gaiard continued, "he sought the power of the other Masters. His desire twisted into something monstrous. One by one, he struck them down—Ratna, Pyrapi, Mawais, Balakung, Kuputeri. He consumed their powers, growing far beyond mortal limits. But power… always demands a price."
His expression darkened. "Only Hang Kasa remained. Once, Retak'ka's sworn brother, bound by oath and battle. In the final confrontation, Hang Kasa wielded the last Sphere ever made—Ochobot. Unlike us, Ochobot was different. It was created not for destruction or power, but for balance—for transfer. It could absorb and redistribute energy between wielders."
Tiama's breath caught. "So… what happened?"
"In that last moment," Gaiard said slowly, "Hang Kasa used Ochobot to absorb the six powers corrupted Retak'ka had taken… along with his own. The process destroyed them both. They vanished. And Ochobot disappeared into the void."
The ship groaned softly beneath them, the sound like a sigh of the universe itself.
In the far reaches of the galaxy, under the steel sky of the Space Exploration world, Ignis sat with his elbows on the table, his gaze locked with Flamme's. The hum of the space station's reactors resonated like a heartbeat.
"…After that," he said, "we were drawn into Ochobot, sealed deep within. That was our prison—and our refuge. Time meant nothing there. We slept for what must have been centuries."
He tilted his head, the faint light of a distant star reflecting in his eyes. "Until the day an event happened. A human boy—an eleven-year-old—found Ochobot. His name was Boboiboy. He was not chosen, not destined. Just… fortuitous. But fate doesn't always choose heroes; sometimes, it stumbles upon them."
Flamme's lips parted, a small gasp escaping. Ignis smiled faintly. "When Ochobot gave him power, we awoke. Not all at once, and not completely. Only fragments of us—limited, restrained. Perhaps a safeguard, so his body wouldn't collapse. He could only wield a tenth of what we were."
He leaned back, his voice soft. "Even so, that tenth was enough to change his world."
In the city of Rankers, where skyscrapers cut the sky and light shimmered like electric veins, Friz's tone was calm, but his words carried a quiet weight.
"We didn't just live inside him," he said. "We became part of him."
Friya frowned slightly. "Part of him?"
He nodded. "Each of us attached ourselves to an emotion—a fragment of his soul. Thunderstorm embodied his loneliness. Cyclone his freedom. Earthquake his responsibility. Blaze his energy. I—Ice—his laziness, his apathy, maybe even his fear of caring too much. Thorn was his innocence. Solar his pride."
He stirred his cup, watching the ripples in the coffee. "We shaped him as much as he shaped us. His laughter, his pain, his doubts—all became ours. And in return, our power gave him purpose. He lived through us, and we lived through him. We were never meant to be separate… but somehow, we were always incomplete."
In the world of primal beasts, the air was filled with the deep calls of titanic creatures echoing from afar. Heim stood among the shattered remains of a battlefield, his gaze lost in memory.
"He fought with heart," he said, voice low. "He learned, grew, and through it all, we stayed by his side. We saw him make choices no one else could bear. He made mistakes, yes—but he never stopped moving forward."
Flora listened quietly, the wind rustling through the leaves around them. Heim smiled faintly. "He joined TAPOPS—Trackers and Protectors of Power Spheres. Their mission was the same as yours in SAGOPS: protect, preserve, and prevent villains using Power Spheres for evil ideal. Through countless battles, his strength expanded beyond even our comprehension. He unlocked the full 100% of each power… and more. New forms, new fusions—possibilities even we didn't think existed. He reached beyond limits we thought absolute."
He looked down at his hands, flexing them slowly. "But every time he grew stronger, his body weakened. The power he carried wasn't meant for a mortal vessel. And still, he refused to stop."
And in the world where the virtual invaded the real, the canyon was quiet again. The last glow of sunset painted Alstar's face in gold and crimson as he turned toward Alexandrite. His expression was solemn but soft, like someone remembering a farewell that still ached.
"…Such power," he said, "always demands balance. His body began to falter. We—his elements—restrained ourselves, limiting our strength so he could survive. But even so, he was fading. Then came the day—the mission to retrieve Aetherbot."
He exhaled slowly, his gaze fixed on the horizon. "Before he could even touch it, Aetherbot awakened. It created a rift… a vortex that began to consume everything around. We tried to hold onto him, but he let go. Perhaps he understood something we didn't—or perhaps he was just tired. Before he vanished into the light, he said only one thing."
Alstar's eyes dimmed with sorrow. "He said he wanted to rest. That he hoped we'd live—not as extensions of him, but as our own selves. He wanted us to find our own purpose… and be free."
The canyon wind carried his words away.
Across seven worlds, at the same instant, seven elemental beings spoke the same truth.
Ragnar in the small tavern.Noctus beneath a dead moon.Gaiard above the endless ocean.Ignis in the cold light of space.Friz amidst the neon hum of the city.Heim among the ancient trees.Alstar on the silent cliff above the digital river.
"…Then," they all said, their voices merging across time and space, "…I was pulled into this world, carrying Boboiboy's wish—his last will. And with that wish, I began my journey… to find my own life. Everything after that," they each smiled faintly, "you already know."