Four million years ago, somewhere in the space enveloping our universe, an explosion occurred—so massive that pressure waves could be seen flickering outward from the center of impact.
There, a tentacle ripped from a massive body lay embedded within a nearby star.
Across its surface, mysterious runic patterns flickered from time to time, and upon closer inspection, the gaze of countless beasts could be felt—if only occasionally.
What reduced such a mighty tentacle to this state was no ordinary thing.
Swords.
Countless swords of various forms surrounded a creature, forming a scene that was strangely serene—or, from another perspective, deeply horrifying.
After what felt like an eternity, the rotation of the swords slowly began to decelerate. From within their circle, a humanoid figure was revealed.
Around its silhouette, reality itself distorted, sliced apart like fabric.
The creature stared at the severed limb for a moment, then lifted its gaze toward the vast horizon—toward a direction that seemed to be the east.
"Run. But I've already cut off your soul limb and planted a decay fruit within it. It's only a matter of time before I find your corpse and harvest that little research of yours."
It paused.
"Yet… Ghost seems to be concealing you as well. Troublesome. But it won't keep up for long."
Then, with a motion so casual it was almost insulting, the creature cut open space itself.
The act was so natural that everything suddenly felt normal again.
And into the torn fabric of reality, it stepped—disappearing without a trace.