Above the planet, in the silence of outer space—
Space rippled.
Not shattered.
Not torn.
It rippled, like water disturbed by an unseen hand.
Five figures stepped out.
Divine aura spilled from them, not violently, but with the quiet pressure of inevitability. The kind that made existence itself feel lesser.
Three men.
Two women.
At the front stood their leader.
Black hair, long and wild, drifting freely in the void.
Black eyes, empty and cold, as if the fate of worlds was nothing more than an accounting entry.
He wore a white-and-gold swordsman's uniform, immaculate, bearing the same symbol as the others—three golden triangles connected into a single sigil. A massive greatsword rested on his back, bound in blue seals. In his hand floated a blue box, engraved with that same emblem, faint divine runes pulsing across its surface.
Behind him—
Two figures stood side by side.
A man and a woman.
Identical in appearance.
