Above the void of the cosmic sky, a meteor raced forward.
Its core glowed with a deep, pulsating blue, beating like a living heart. Around it, black flames writhed violently, as if restraining something that desperately sought to break free. This was no ordinary celestial object.
The meteor was falling with purpose.
As it pierced the heavens of the World of the Primordial Gods, the sky itself trembled. Clouds were torn apart, and the air quaked as if reality resisted its descent.
Far below the point of impact stood a god, calm and unmoved.
His long hair was jet black, his eyes glowing with a sharp gray light. A pair of dragon horns curved from his head as he gazed upward without fear. Gentle winds circled his body, flowing naturally—until they slowly began to falter, as if hesitant to obey.
Beneath his eyes was etched a tattooed number.
11.
A faint smile appeared on his lips.
"...A new god," he murmured.
Then—
BOOOOOM!
The meteor struck the world of the gods.
The land shattered. The air screamed as an invisible pressure burst outward, crushing sky and earth alike. Shockwaves rippled across the divine realm, bending space itself.
For a brief moment, the winds around the god froze.
For the first time since their creation, the Primordial Gods felt something unfamiliar.
A pressure born from an existence
that should not exist.
At the heart of the newly formed crater, space itself cracked open.
The air twisted violently as layers of light collapsed into a single point. From that distortion, a massive portal tore open, swallowing the surrounding reality.
Three divine figures stepped forth.
The first was Skyeer, Primordial God of Wind. Tempests roared around him as his cloak fluttered endlessly. The number 11 beneath his eyes glimmered faintly, his gaze sharp with curiosity.
Beside him emerged Tatenus, Primordial God of Water. His golden hair shimmered like sunlight upon the sea, and his eyes were as deep as the ocean abyss. A crown of flowing water hovered above his head, endlessly circulating without spilling. In his grasp rested a golden trident, radiating the pressure of an ancient sea. Beneath his eyes glowed the number 7.
Then—
The world seemed to slow.
The third figure stepped forward, and time itself bent to his presence.
Atlas.
The Primordial God of Time.
The number 1 was carved beneath his eyes.
His body resembled a flawless human doll, impossibly perfect, forged from gold and legendary diamonds that reflected cosmic light. He emitted no overwhelming aura, yet merely standing near him made the flow of time feel distorted.
Three Primordial Gods had gathered.
And the being born from the meteor was clearly no ordinary existence.
Amid the shattered fragments of the meteor, still shrouded in rising black smoke, something stood.
A figure shaped like a fully grown human.
Its skin was pale—nearly colorless—standing in stark contrast to the dark flames surrounding it. Long black hair flowed down its back. From its head rose a pair of black demonic horns, solid and cold.
From its back stretched angelic wing.
Yet every feather was pitch black, as if absorbing light itself.
Its eyes were an icy blue, empty of emotion.
Beneath both eyes was etched a number.
2.
Dust and debris clung to its body as silence engulfed the crater. Even the wind refused to move.
The Primordial Gods understood at once—
This being
was not an ordinary god