The ten Primordials hovered above the Cradle, their forms shimmering like living constellations. Light reflected off their ethereal bodies, casting a halo across the void.
Kaiser's voice cut through the silence, firm yet tinged with contemplation:
"Three hundred cycles… and still, Arae grows. Each generation we send in, he adapts. The offshoots were enough for the last two hundred ninety-nine, but this time… it will not suffice."
Artemis, eyes like pools of infinite knowledge, replied thoughtfully:
"If we grant them the full shards, the mortal vessels cannot survive. Their bodies will fail without death as a threshold."
Savitar, Primordial of Momentum, shifted, energy crackling around him:
"And yet, if they die, they may rise stronger. The mortal cycle breaks them… only to rebuild them as weapons worthy of facing Arae."
Hephaestus, Primordial of Creation, interjected with careful precision:
"We've learned from error. Offshoots gave them immediate power, but no depth, no resilience. Each Chosen knew victory was fleeting. Arae returned regardless."
Nocturne, the Primordial of Shadow, voice like wind through a crypt:
"This generation… the Damned Ten… they must endure what no previous Chosen ever faced. Pain, mortality, death, rebirth… all woven into one."
Thanamira, Primordial of Spirits, her gaze sweeping the void:
"And yet… we cannot interfere directly. Only guide, only lend fragments. Their victories, their sacrifices, must be their own. Otherwise, the Cycle collapses."
Poseidara, Primordial of Water, her voice calm yet unstoppable, spoke:
"Floods, storms, shifting currents… nature itself must test them. Their endurance cannot be confined to battle alone. The trials must touch every corner of their world."
Aegriya, Primordial of Protection, interjected firmly:
"Guidance alone may not suffice. Some will face choices no mortal should bear. Their instincts must be sharpened, their courage tempered. But we cannot shield them completely."
Moara, Primordial of Voodoo, her tone eerie and twisting, added:
"They will face horrors not of the body, but of spirit. Every ally turned foe, every whisper of doubt… we must seed resilience, or they will crumble before even touching Arae."
Voltraeus, Primordial of Lightning, crackling energy around his form, finished:
"And speed… precision… lightning itself must flow through their reflexes. The world will shatter around them, and only those quick enough to adapt will survive."
Kaiser's hand clenched slightly, golden light radiating faintly from his aura:
"Then let it be known: this generation receives the full shards. Let mortality test them. Let death temper them. Let them rise as the true bridge between our power and the end of Arae."
The other Primordials nodded, each one committing silently to the plan. The Cradle pulsed beneath them, as though sensing the weight of their decision.
Savitar's grin, sharp and fleeting, broke the tension:
"They will not know fear until it is already upon them… and even then, only one will teach it to them in full measure."
The council fell silent again, the cosmos itself holding its breath.
Shojiro's soul floated in silence.
No heartbeat. No breath. No body to return to. Only the hum of eternity pulsing around him like a heartbeat of stars.
Then — a voice. Not one, but ten. Whispering, chanting, harmonizing. The Primordials.
"Let him remember."
A circle of light ignited around Shojiro's suspended soul. His essence began to tremble as golden tendrils — memories older than time — coiled toward him, wrapping around his consciousness like vines.
And then… he saw it.
Vision I: The Birth of Existence
Nothing.
No stars. No air. No void.
Only stillness.
Until a single vibration split the silence. A frequency beyond sound — a rupture that shattered the fabric of nothing.
A blinding detonation of color and force erupted, folding and tearing across infinite directions.
"Before creation… there was the Crack."
The vision expanded — an explosion so vast it wasn't light, but possibility itself. Reality unspooled from it like ribbons of molten time.
Ten figures emerged from the eruption — Primordials, their forms sculpted from raw concept.
Kaiser roared first, his frame forged of bone and muscle, voice shaking newborn space.
Savitar followed, a streak of perpetual motion; the embodiment of velocity before even time had meaning.
Hephaestus burned with molten innovation, his every breath shaping galaxies into blueprints.
Poseidara's presence dripped and crashed like the first tide — fluid, eternal, patient.
Voltraeus' storm-born rage illuminated the void with veins of black lightning.
Nocturne's arrival was a dimming, shadow given purpose, darkness with sentience.
Thanamira drifted between them, carrying luminous souls of the unborn, her eyes endless spirals of death and rebirth.
Aegriya's halo pulsed — the first barrier, the concept of defense incarnate.
Moara emerged cloaked in bone charms and masks, laughter echoing from cursed mouths.
And Artemis — calm, radiant, infinite — opened her eyes last. "It begins," she said. "Let us make meaning."
The universe bowed to them. The laws of existence — gravity, thought, memory — took root at their feet.
Vision II: The Coming of Arae
Shojiro's pulse quickened though he had no heart.
A new Crack tore through the void — darker, slower, sickening in rhythm. From it crawled a figure drenched in wounds and ash.
Arae.
He stumbled forward, eyes hollow yet burning with something ancient. The Primordials surrounded him, their compassion genuine.
They healed him.
They welcomed him.
And in doing so, they doomed everything.
"I… am Arae."
The words echoed like a curse across the newborn cosmos.
As his mind healed, his hatred returned — for a war forgotten by all but him. His curse seeped into the others, whispering paranoia, twisting loyalty into fear.