Chapter 1 The Beginning of Creation
Long ago, before time was measured and before worlds learned to breathe, there existed an Omnipotent Being known as Auntic.
Auntic waged a silent, eternal conflict with another Omnipotent existence called Organic. Neither could destroy the other directly, so Auntic devised a different solution. He commanded his own creation, a vast cosmic intelligence later called Ezra TGA, to design a living weapon one that could grow, adapt, and eventually overcome Organic.
Ezra obeyed.
For ages beyond comprehension, he shaped life itself, weaving will into flesh and purpose into soul. At last, the weapon was complete. It lived. It could think. It could evolve.
Yet when Ezra presented it, there was a problem.
It had no name.
Valot, Auntic's advisor, stepped forward and studied the being. After a moment, he spoke.
"Then let it be called Creation. It is alive. It will grow. And it will inherit its purpose."
Auntic accepted the name.
From that moment, Creation was no longer a single entity. It became a lineage reborn again and again, each generation molded to serve the same design. They lived, fought, and died without ever choosing their own path. They were not children. They were instruments.
But the design was not perfect.
The first of them, Elydnor, did something no one had predicted.
He questioned.
He stood before his creator and spoke not as a weapon, but as a being that wished to understand life.
"I do not want this endless war," Elydnor said. "I want to be free."
To Auntic, this was betrayal. A weapon that questioned its purpose was flawed. He ordered Elydnor's immediate execution.
Before the command could be carried out, Valot intervened once more.
"He is learning," Valot argued. "If he is allowed to live if he is allowed to experience life, love, and family perhaps he will return to his purpose willingly."
After a long silence, Auntic agreed.
Elydnor was spared. He was allowed to live among mortals, not as a weapon, but as something dangerously close to human.
In time, he married.
And he became a father.
The child born from that union was named Henness Stark.
That birth changed everything.
Creation was no longer confined to a controlled existence. It began to spread through humanity itself, generation after generation, blending into bloodlines, carrying fragments of its origin like an unseen inheritance.
And with every generation, the original purpose grew more distant.
Yet it was never truly gone.
Ezra TGA, the one who had started it all, continued to watch.
"Since the day we created you, Creations… you have lived without seizing your own destiny. You fought, bled, and passed your burdens from one generation to the next. Perhaps this era will be different. Perhaps this time… you will choose."
Morning arrived.
7:55 a.m.
An alarm rang loudly inside a quiet house.
"You are late for the school ceremony, Young Lord," an artificial voice announced.
A sudden shout broke the silence.
Paul Stark sat upright in bed, breathing heavily.
"I had a dream I was late!" he said.
"It was not a dream," the system replied calmly. "It is reality."
Paul groaned, grabbing his uniform. "You should've rung louder, you useless bell."
"I performed my duty with precision. The failure is yours."
"Why does a house system have attitude?" Paul muttered.
"You have not showered. You have not eaten. Your sleep quality was poor."
"You can't even smell!" Paul shot back. "Stop pretending you can analyze everything!"
From the hallway, his mother's voice called out, half amused and half exasperated.
"Paul! Are you arguing with the system again?"
"…It started it," Paul replied.
The AI continued as if nothing had happened. "Your cousin Kyle has sent a message. He is asking why you are not yet at the school."
"Tell him I'm on my way," Paul said, heading toward the bathroom. "And prepare my opening ceremony speech."
"Understood."
A few minutes later, Paul rushed into the dining area. Helena stood near the table, arms folded.
"Breakfast is getting cold. Hurry, or your mother will leave without you."
"I'm done already," Paul said quickly.
Catherine Stark looked at her son with a small smile. "You look smart this morning."
"I always do," Paul answered.
They moved toward the door.
"It's 8:29," Paul added, glancing at the time. "The event starts at 9:30. You know it takes over an hour to get there, right?"
Ivan shook his head. "Don't blame us. You're the one who overslept."
Paul stopped for a moment. Something felt… wrong.
"What's the matter?" Catherine asked.
Paul hesitated. "It's that feeling again. Like someone's watching me."
Catherine glanced around the street. Nothing unusual. No drones. No cameras beyond the normal city surveillance.
"I don't see anything," she said gently.
Paul forced a shrug. "Yeah. Maybe it's nothing."
But as they drove away, the feeling did not disappear. Far beyond what human eyes could see, something ancient was already observing him. And waiting.