Long before recorded history…
before nations existed,
before myths were written,
before humanity learned to name the stars—
the world nearly ended.
The sky had not been blue that day.
It fractured.
Light split across the heavens like shattered glass, revealing something beyond reality itself — a place where existence had no meaning.
Creatures descended from that wound in creation.
They were not demons.
Not gods.
Not monsters born from nature.
They were Void.
Living absences.
Where they walked, sound disappeared.
Where they looked, matter forgot how to exist.
Cities vanished without fire.
Oceans collapsed into silence.
Even time itself seemed afraid to move forward.
Humanity stood helpless at the edge of extinction.
And then—
they appeared.
Twenty-one warriors from different lands, different eras, different beliefs.
Later generations would call them Anchors.
Humans who awakened an impossible authority — the power to stabilize reality itself.
Where they stood, existence remembered how to remain whole.
Where they fought, the Void retreated.
At their center stood one man history would never fully understand.
The First Anchor.
Not a king.
Not a god.
Just a human who refused to watch the world disappear.
A man who chose responsibility over survival.
Together, the Anchors fought a being known only in forgotten texts as:
Zerathiel — Herald of the Void Emperor.
The battle lasted seven days and seven nights.
Mountains fell.
Seas burned.
The sky itself screamed as if reality begged to survive.
Humanity watched the war from hiding, praying to gods who could not answer.
But in the end—
humanity lived.
Zerathiel was destroyed.
The Anchors vanished.
And history slowly convinced itself the nightmare had only been a legend.
The world was finally free.
…or so humanity believed.
Present Day
The soft ding of a seatbelt sign echoed inside the airplane cabin.
Clouds stretched endlessly outside the window, glowing gold beneath the setting sun.
A teenage boy sat quietly by the window, a history book resting on his lap.
His name was Manu Sharma.
He turned another page slowly.
The chapter title read:
"The Legend of the First Anchor."
He frowned.
"Strange story…" he murmured.
According to historians, ancient warriors had once saved humanity from extinction.
Yet no proof existed.
No ruins.
No weapons.
No evidence.
Only myths people stopped believing in.
Across the aisle, his parents laughed together.
His mother leaned closer, eyes shining with excitement.
"Japan finally," she said. "Your ancestors' dojo… I still can't believe we found it."
His father smiled warmly.
"Some traditions wait generations to return."
Manu watched them quietly.
A small smile formed.
He didn't know why—but this trip felt important.
Like something unfinished was waiting for him.
He looked back out the window.
For a moment…
his reflection didn't feel entirely like his own.
And a strange thought crossed his mind:
Why does this story feel familiar?
The Ancestral Dojo
Evening light filtered through tall trees as the old dojo came into view.
Wooden pillars worn by centuries.
Stone steps cracked with age.
Prayer charms swayed gently in the wind.
The place felt alive.
Waiting.
Manu stepped inside first.
The wooden floor creaked beneath him.
A sudden chill ran down his spine.
The air grew heavy.
Almost…
welcoming.
Like the building recognized him before he recognized it.
He laughed nervously.
"Just imagination."
Behind him, his parents unpacked happily, their voices filling the space with warmth.
For the first time in a long while—
everything felt peaceful.
Safe.
Normal.
The wind stopped.
Not slowed.
Stopped.
Every sound vanished.
Birds froze mid-flight.
Leaves hung motionless in the air.
The world held its breath.
A deep vibration rolled beneath the ground.
Manu turned toward the sky.
Clouds twisted inward.
Space bent unnaturally.
Reality folded like paper being crushed by an unseen hand.
Something was forcing its way into existence.
A crack tore open above the dojo—
and darkness poured out.
A massive figure descended, wrapped in shifting void energy.
Its presence alone crushed the air from Manu's lungs.
Eyes like collapsing stars scanned the world below.
Zerathiel — Herald of the Void Emperor.
The destroyer humanity had once survived.
Has returned
Its voice echoed directly inside every atom of existence.
"Axis presence detected."
The ground shattered.
Pressure slammed downward.
Glass exploded.
His parents rushed toward him instantly.
"Manu!"
Fear filled their voices — real, human fear.
They didn't understand.
They only wanted to protect their son.
Zerathiel raised one hand.
Black energy condensed into absolute nothingness—
and fired.
There was no explosion.
No sound.
No light.
Just absence.
Reality blinked.
And everything changed.
Manu fell to his knees.
Smoke drifted through broken air.
His ears rang violently.
Slowly—
he looked up.
The dojo was gone.
The laughter from moments ago no longer existed.
His parents—
were gone.
Not bodies.
Not remains.
Nothing.
Erased.
As if they had never lived.
His chest tightened.
Breath refused to come.
"…Mom?"
Silence.
"…Dad?"
Only wind answered.
His hands trembled uncontrollably.
Tears blurred the world as grief crashed into him faster than understanding.
The universe suddenly felt enormous—
and unbearably empty.
Above him, Zerathiel stepped closer.
"Target confirmed."
Void energy gathered again.
Manu couldn't move.
Couldn't think.
Couldn't even scream.
He was just a boy—
about to disappear.
And then—
light exploded across the battlefield.
Twenty-one figures descended like falling stars.
Weapons drawn.
Auras blazing.
Reality stabilized wherever their feet touched the ground.
They formed a line.
Not around Earth.
Not around history.
Around him.
Zerathiel paused.
For the first time—
surprised.
One warrior stepped forward.
Eyes sharp. Voice unwavering.
"Void entity identified."
Another raised their weapon.
"All Anchors… formation."
Energy surged between them, repairing existence itself.
None of them looked back.
None of them knew who the boy behind them was.
They only knew one thing.
He must survive.
Manu stared at their backs through tear-filled eyes.
Strangers.
Protecting him.
Fighting for him.
Why…?
Why were they here?
Why me?
Zerathiel's voice echoed again.
Colder.
Almost curious.
"So… the Anchors have followed."
Void energy surged violently as the battlefield prepared to erupt into war once more.
And as the first clash began
none of the Anchors realized…
the grieving boy standing behind them…
was not merely a survivor.
He was the reason destiny itself had broken —
and why the Anchors had been summoned to the future.
END OF PROLOGUE
None of the Anchors knew the truth.
The boy they protected…
was never meant to survive.
Far beyond Earth,
inside a realm where existence itself feared to look
a presence awakened.
A voice echoed through the Void:
"So… you finally appeared."
And for the first time in centuries
the Void Emperor smiled.