Prologue: The Eternal Struggle

Splash... Splash...

In a place beyond all logic, beyond all reason, an infinity of beings could be observed, but two of them stood out.

Splash... Splash...

Two silhouettes were there: one, high on its throne, watched with indifference the unfolding events; the other, drenched in blood, wielded its sword, cutting and slicing through everything in its path.

Splash... Splash...

But it was all in vain. No matter how much it cut, how much it killed... Nothing seemed to change. The endless creatures it fought did not diminish.

Splash... Splash...

—Aren't you tired of this absurd struggle? —the indifferent being asked from high on its throne, in an inaudible, indescribable language, yet somehow still understandable.

—It's been 500 years since you began this meaningless fight. You know that, no matter what you do, you can't win. After all, you are still an insignificant mortal.

The warrior said nothing. He simply sheathed and unsheathed his sword with an indescribable speed, beyond all logic. All that could be seen was a flash of lightning slicing through the space, as every creature around him vanished.

—Oh, a new move? How many have there been?

After his attack, which granted him a brief rest, his appearance became clearer: tattered pants, the remains of a jacket, gray hair stained with blood, one purple eye and the other gray, lifeless except for the red aura around it. Strange cracks covered his face and hands.

Without responding, the warrior continued advancing toward the silhouette on the throne. Although his speed increased, he seemed to remain still.

—Do you even remember how to speak? What's your name? Why do you fight? —the being continued asking curiously.

The warrior remained silent, moving faster and faster, to the point of causing cracks in the fabric of space itself.

—You know, no matter how fast you are, you will never reach me, right? After all, we are not in the same dimension. You, being a mere mortal, however strong you become, are still a simple creature from a lower dimension. No matter how many you kill; I can create more with a mere gesture.

With a wave of his hand, the entire space filled once again with an endless swarm of creatures.

And so, the cycle repeated.

100... 200... 300... 400... 500 years later.

The same scene repeated itself as it had 500 years ago. Or so it seemed...

—You know, I'm getting bored of this. No matter what you do, everything will remain the same. You will die, and with you, your world. You know, a lower world couldn't even withstand my presence. So let's make this more entertaining —he said, as a cruel smile spread across his face.

He rose from his throne, and with a simple move, positioned himself in front of the warrior. With another gesture, all the creatures disappeared.

—You see, I've grown bored of watching your struggle and decided to intervene, or rather, to observe your weak attacks up close. So go ahead, attack me with all you've got. It will be your only chance to face me.

Without responding, the warrior struck with more force, faster than ever before. The cracks covering his body deepened, but all his attacks were blocked or dodged.

—It's remarkable how much you've evolved in these few years. You've gone from being a weak planet-destroyer to a universe-destroyer. But it's useless. Watch and learn what it means to be strong.

With a smile, the being launched a single blow. It seemed slow and weak, but it was quite the opposite: an unavoidable, unblockable strike. The warrior tried to stop it with his sword and sheath, but it was in vain. His sword shattered, leaving only the hilt, and his sheath was cracked, nearly destroyed. His arm and part of his abdomen vanished, and his body fell into what seemed like an endless abyss.

—And here is where your vain struggle ends —said the being, approaching him.

The warrior rose, trembling, his wounds healed, but the cracks on his body deepened further. And then, after so many years, he spoke in a voice devoid of emotion, as empty as his eyes.

—You know... I remember nothing. Not who I am, nor why I fight. But I know I must fulfill my promise. And you made a mistake, God.

Yes, a "God," or rather, a being of higher dimensional rank, an embodied concept. These beings cannot normally be seen or touched by lower creatures, as they embody concepts of reality and beyond. Why would such a being assume a humanoid appearance in this dimension?

But none of that matters now. What begins must end. This fight, and all this reality.

—A mistake? Ha, ha, ha... —the god laughed.

—I'm sorry, #$%#$%. Today, we will vanish from existence. Will you help me with this attack? —the warrior asked, with a hint of emotion in his voice.

—Don't worry, count on me —said the silhouette of a girl before disappearing into the warrior's sheath.

Deep breath...

The warrior raised what was left of his sword within the sheath, over his head. The god watched the unfolding scene with indifference, unconcerned about what was about to happen.

Slowly, something began to form within the sword as it was drawn: a lightning bolt and a flame intertwined. The cracks covering his body and the sheath deepened, like glass about to shatter.

An odd scene then appeared: hundreds, thousands, millions... an infinity of people in the same stance, differing only by age, from children around five years old to elderly people.

The god's eyes widened in surprise. He tried to stop it, but it was already too late. The sword was drawn, and with it, all the figures vanished, as a purple lightning intertwined with black flames disintegrated everything.

Exhale...

In his eyes, there was no movement; everything was still, but he knew that within this stillness, the concept of time still existed.

One second...

This was the time he had gained by sacrificing everything to perform this technique: Apotheosis, the temporary state of becoming a God. "If I want to end one, I must become one," he thought. A simple sentence, yet of immense weight.

0.0001 seconds...

A technique completed thanks to the god's attack, a simple strike that held the concept of divinity, allowing the technique to be completed.

—I guess this is where it all ends —he said in his monotone voice.

One attack, three deaths...

In one final stance, he unleashed his most powerful attack ever. All that was visible was a light before everything vanished.

Nothing remained... only his silhouette, his sword reduced to ashes, and his body fading away.

0.000001 seconds...

—I suppose this is the end.

With these last words, his body, once shrouded in a purple and black aura, no longer existed.

0 seconds...

Time resumed its flow. Nothing seemed to have happened, except for the death of a god... or so they thought.

Nothing had happened, or so it seemed... But the death of a god, the embodiment of a concept, brings with it an imbalance in reality itself. Reality, in an unconscious act, attempted to correct the flaw, but it is not that simple. The death of a concept means the disappearance of its essence, and to restore balance, it must be reborn, created anew.

Thus, everything had to end and be reborn.

With an almost imperceptible hum, reality acted. Everything ended, and everything was reborn almost exactly as before... Nothing escaped this death. Except for a small spark that floated in the void for years until it fell onto a planet like a meteor crossing the sky.

The meteor crashed into a forest, leaving a trail of destruction among the trees and the ground. An energy vortex opened where it had fallen, and from it emerged the body of what appeared to be a child with gray hair. Shortly after, the vortex vanished, as if it had never been there, except for the visible damage in the forest.

—Mom, Dad, the meteorite fell here! —came the cheerful voice of a girl with blonde hair in two pigtails. She was accompanied by her parents, who followed her with curiosity and a hint of caution.

How could that spark survive the erasure of everything?

What strange games is reality playing?

And so, a new cycle began once again.