Before the first star ignited, before time learned to flow forward, there existed only Yin and Yang, two infinite forces locked in silent opposition. They were not gods,
nor minds, but truths woven into existence itself. Yang burned with becoming, a radiant fire that stretched into the unknown, giving birth to all things that grew, moved, and evolved. Yin pulsed with an ending, a stillness, an eternal void that marked the inevitable return of all things to nothingness. Together, they
formed the delicate balance of the universe, but from their imbalance, creation screamed into being, raw and uncontrollable.
From Yang's blinding surge emerged Illumis, the Life-Keeper. He was light given will, his form radiant enough to tear darkness apart simply by existing. Worlds bloomed in his wake, each a masterpiece of
nature's design. Life, from the simplest plant to the most complex creature, learned to breathe and flourish under his touch. From fragments of his luminous essence, he forged the Guardians of Nature, divine wardens whose duty was to shape and protect reality itself.
Hephaestus, whose fire rained upon the heavens, capable of burning cities to the ground or forging kingdoms in the heart of the earth. Poseidon, whose oceans held the memories of every drowned soul, each wave whispering their names into the abyss.
Zeus, whose lightning split the heavens with judgment, each bolt a divine decree that struck with unerring accuracy. Ares, the one who controlled the size of weapons,
Gaia, whose body was the earth itself, vast and timeless, supporting the living and the dying alike.
But from Yin's endless stillness rose something far darker, something that should never have awakened. A presence colder than death, older than fear itself. His name was Abyssor, the Doombringer. Where Illumis
shone, Abyssor consumed. Where light was created, darkness unmade. His very presence was anathema to life, and his soul, a void so vast that no hope could ever fill it. His heart burned with pure emptiness, a force that devoured everything it touched, from the simplest spark of light to the grandest creation. From
Abyssor's shadow were born the Five of Ruin, not forged in the fires of creation, but unleashed from the deepest corners of the void itself: Keith, the necromancer, who spoke to the dead and forced them to answer, bending the souls of the fallen to his will. Kuro, master of metal, whose dominion twisted weapons into living cages, forging monstrosities from iron and bone. Noctis, the bodiless horror, whose very form could not be seen, but was felt in the creeping cold of his presence. He wore flesh like a borrowed
mask, shifting forms to torment the living. Voidrin, the poisoner, whose venoms did not only rot bodies but corroded memory and soul alike, leaving only hollow husks where once there were people. Vaya who could make purple crystals and manipulate them. Where the Five of Ruin walked, time itself sickened. Civilizations
vanished without leaving ruins. Even the stars recoiled, their light fading in fear of Abyssor's encroaching darkness. For countless ages, the Life-Keeper and the Doombringer clashed. Their wars were not just battles; they were cataclysms that shattered galaxies, their
echoes rippling through the very fabric of reality. The sky burned in shades of blood and fire, space screamed as the cosmos were torn apart. Worlds were born, only to be obliterated in the next breath. Yet while
Abyssor endured, his form untouched by time, the Guardians of Nature began to fade. One by one, the divine wardens fell, their once-mighty bodies dissolving into legend. Their names were whispered only in fragments, their powers scattering across the universe, fragmenting into the mortal bloodlines of those who would one day inherit their essence.
The Guardians' light wasn't gone, but hidden, waiting… watching.
And then, in the farthest reaches of the universe, the ancient light stirred once more. Across distant lands, five children were born under darkening skies, their births heralded by omens of fire, storm, quake, tide, and wind. These children would carry the final embers of the Guardians' power, the last flicker of resistance against the coming unmaking.
Ignia, the flamebearer, whose fury burned with the
heart of a star. Yukiru, the water wrath quaker, whose rage could tear the heavens asunder. Kaiser, the earthshaker, whose footsteps echoed the power of the mountains. Terra, the tidecaller, whose voice could command the oceans and part the seas. Ares, The god of Size manipulation.
Together, they would become the final vessels of the Guardians' light, the last hope of creation. They would be the defenders against Abyssor's rise, the ones who could stand against the coming darkness, or, if they failed, the ones who would fall into it. The balance trembled. Abyssor's shadow stretched farther than ever before, and even Illumis's once-steadfast radiance began to flicker. The time of reckoning had come.
As the Doombringer's forces began to rise once more, the children were thrust into a world of choices too heavy for their young shoulders. Would they rise to fight against the darkness, or would they be consumed by it? They would come to be known as the Great
Council of the Set Off, not because they saved the universe, but because their awakening marked the moment everything truly began to end.
The story of light and shadow, creation and destruction, was far from over. It had only just begun.