The Box of Origin.
The Cradle of Life.
An ancient core, older than the gods themselves—said to hold the very essence of existence. It is not merely a relic, but the heartbeat of creation, the pulse that birthed life itself.
Coveted by gods, feared by mortals—**even Zeus**, the King of Olympus, forbade its touch. No being, divine or otherwise, was allowed to disturb the cradle. For within it lies a force beyond comprehension, beyond power—it is the origin, the balance, the spark that formed everything.
Long before the gods ascended to their thrones, before time carved itself into moments, there was only **Chaos** and **Order**. Two opposing forces adrift in the eternal void.
And when these two orbs—chaotic and ordered—**collided**, they did not destroy each other.
They merged.
From that divine clash was born the Cradle of Life.
The Box of Origin.
The first breath of creation.
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Zeus—King of Olympus, ruler of gods and mortals alike—once received a dire prophecy from the Sisters of Fate. A vision born of divine thread and spun through time's endless loom.
"The box shall be your undoing," they warned. "What lies within will curse the King of Olympus himself. It shall awaken the fear even gods dare not name."
The Box of Origin, once pure—once the Cradle of Life—had been corrupted. Twisted not by time, but by the selfish desires of the gods who sought to wield its unmatched power. From its once sacred core now flowed the essence of despair—death, famine, war, and destruction.
Thus began the War of the Titans, a cataclysm that shattered realms and nearly consumed the world. The gods emerged victorious, though not without scars. With great effort, they sealed the darkness back within the box, restoring a fragile peace to the world.
But the balance had been shattered.
To ensure the world would not again fall to ruin, Athena, the wisest of all goddesses, infused the box with the only forces that could counterbalance the darkness: Love. Trust. Hope.The last gifts of the divine. She proclaimed that only one with a pure soul, one worthy in both heart and spirit, would be able to open the box without plunging the world into chaos once more.
Zeus, bound by fear and wisdom, entrusted the box to one who would keep it hidden from both gods and mortals alike—Pandora, daughter of Vulcan, the divine keeper chosen to bear this sacred burden.
To the world, she faded into myth. But she did not perish.
Now, she is Milena—a quiet guardian cloaked in mystery, forever bound to the divine task handed down by Olympus. And as darkness stirs once more, she remembers the moment the gods placed the weight of fate into her hands. The moment they said:
"This box must never be opened again."
But the world is changing.
And fate, as always, is stirring.
Zeus, ever wary of prophecy and power, knew that even Pandora could not bear this burden alone—not forever.
So he summoned three beings, entities older than mortal reckoning, forces that existed beyond Olympus, beyond even time.
The Eminence of Shadow—a being born from the veil between light and dark, the master of unseen truths and forbidden paths.
The Dragon God—primordial and eternal, guardian of balance, flame, and fury, the keeper of nature's wrath and mercy.
The Void Emperor—a silent sovereign born of nothingness and infinity, whose mind grasped the endless unknown.
Together, they were entrusted to become the Triad of Guardians, chosen not for loyalty to Olympus, but for their unwavering duty to maintain the balance of all things.
To fulfill their role, they each made the ultimate sacrifice: they locked their consciousnesses inside the Box of Origin itself.
"If ever the seal is broken," the Dragon God thundered, his voice like rumbling earth, "we shall awaken—not to fight, but to restore."
"To guide the Keeper," whispered the Eminence of Shadow, his form flickering between realms, "and defend against the corruption that may rise again."
"And if fate demands it,"murmured the Void Emperor, his presence felt more than seen, "we shall help seal it… even at the cost of all that remains."
Only when the box is opened again, will their essences stir, merging with reality just long enough to aid the Keeper in one final act of defiance against the consuming dark.
And Pandora—now Milena—remembers them still.
Each time she passes by the sealed chamber where the box rests, she whispers a quiet prayer—not to the gods above, but to the three within.
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But now, only one of the ancient guardians remains within reach.
The Eminence of Shadow—his consciousness now resides within Tang Su Yan, awakened after her rebirth. He is the final whisper of the oath made to safeguard the Box of Origin, and the last line of defense against the darkness it once held.
The Void Emperor, once a stoic guardian of the unknown, is no longer bound. His vast, incomprehensible power has been seized and now twisted under the control of the Overseer, the very human who dares call himself a god. With that power, the Overseer unleashed the sealed negativity into the world—famine, death, war, and ruin now roam freely, reshaping the fate of all living beings.
The Dragon God—the embodiment of balance and elemental might—vanished the moment the box was opened. No trace of him remains, his fate shrouded in mystery, leaving even the gods to wonder if he fell… or is waiting for the right moment to return.
But all is not yet lost.
When the box was breached, a fragment of salvation was preserved. The last force of balance—Hope itself—was cast into Tang Su Yan, infused into her soul upon her rebirth. She became the living vessel of hope, unknowingly carrying within her the only light capable of countering the chaos spreading across the world.
Though unaware of her divine burden, each heartbeat brings her closer to the truth—closer to awakening the power left dormant inside her.
And when the time comes, the Eminence of Shadow will rise again through her will, to confront the darkness that was once sealed…
...and the Overseer who dares to claim dominion over it.
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"Keeper, when will you prepare the child for the final war?"
The voice echoed in Milena's mind like a whisper pulled from the edges of the void—familiar, ancient, and relentless. The Eminence of Shadow stood shrouded within the astral plane, his form veiled in cascading darkness, only his glowing eyes visible like dying stars in a collapsing universe.
Milena stood at the heart of the sanctuary, hands pressed upon the ancient sigil that pulsed faintly beneath her fingers. Her voice came low, heavy with the weight of centuries, "She is not ready."
"The Void Emperor's essence is no more," the Eminence growled, frustration bleeding into his tone. "It has been devoured by the Overseer. The Dragon God's essence remains undetected. The vessel of hope is fractured, untempered. What is your plan, Keeper?"
Milena's eyes narrowed, silver strands of her hair drifting in the celestial wind that surrounded them. Her reply was resolute, if not weary.
"My plan… is time."
The silence that followed was taut with disbelief.
"Time?" the Eminence echoed with a low snarl. "The world burns. The Overseer strengthens his grasp. The balance collapses. Time is a luxury we no longer possess, Keeper."
Milena stepped forward, her aura flaring subtly, a mix of divine serenity and burdened resolve. "And yet, even gods forget… time is how legends are forged. Su Yan carries hope—but hope must choose to awaken. I will not force the storm before the winds are ready."
The Eminence fell silent for a moment, watching her.
"And if she fails?"
Milena closed her eyes.