Beyond the veil of stars, above creation itself, existed a realm no mortal language could name.
A place where galaxies drifted like dust, and entire planets were no larger than scattered marbles before a radiant, endless palace.
Within that impossible citadel, on a throne forged from starlight and forgotten prayers, the Goddess of Eternity sat in silent contemplation.
Her voice echoed across the celestial hall:
"What should we do about these dying worlds?
If mortals lose their faith, the gods will lose their power…
Just once—if only we could interfere with the mortal realm ourselves."
A god beside her—tall, draped in the wind of dying universes—nodded.
"Why not send a hero?
Take one mortal from another world and let him restore balance."
The Goddess shook her head.
"We tried.
Every hero from every world pushed themselves too far.
They burn brightly… and then die."
As she spoke, the palace dome flickered, showing visions of countless worlds collapsing into corruption. But suddenly—a new light appeared.
A single mortal.
A human.
One who did not overextend his power.
One who grew stronger slowly, steadily, without losing himself.
A candidate.
Before the Goddess could speak again, the great doors of the celestial hall burst open. A breathless god rushed in, bowing urgently.
"Two more worlds have fallen to corruption!"
The Goddess rose, fury shaking the golden pillars.
"Enough!
Search every realm.
Find any mortal—any at all—who can become a hero."
At her command, the divine assembly scattered, wings of light cutting through the cosmic sky.
But then—
something broke into the palace.
A shattering sound like the end of time itself.
Black cracks spread across the star-forged walls.
The Goddess' eyes widened.
"Keep it outside! Whatever you do—keep it out of the palace!"
She vanished instantly, teleporting to the shattered entry.
There, a dark aura seeped through the breach.
Its voice was like a whisper from the void between existence:
"Pathetic creatures… even your angels are weak."
And the entity slaughtered the heavenly guardians effortlessly—hundreds falling within moments.
The gods fought for days, maybe weeks; time itself twisted around the entity's presence.
When the carnage finally ceased, the Goddess stood among the ruins of once-glorious halls.
Bloodless angel feathers drifted like snow.
Her voice, tired yet unwavering, whispered:
"We only need four hundred more years…
I have seen a mortal who can change everything.
A mortal we can use."
The stars trembled.
The fate of worlds shifted.
The search for the new Hero had begun.