Year 6050, approximately two centuries after the end of the Third Intergalactic War.
Hidden Quadrant, Unknown Galaxy... Planet Entropian, cradle of the vanished divine race.
The planet was plunged into total darkness. No star shone in the sky. Its atmospheric mantle had been torn apart for centuries, leaving behind only an unstable, corrosive void. A thick, black, acidic rain fell relentlessly, burning on contact the few metallic debris and remnants of collapsed structures.
The ground was flooded with a dense, silent, blackish liquid, stretching as far as the eye could see. In places, it bubbled for no apparent reason. Meteors struck continuously, carving vast craters into the already fractured soil.
Amid this apocalyptic landscape stood an immobile, entirely white figure, kneeling before a monumental statue. Around it, twenty other figures stood in the shadows, scattered in a semicircle at precise distances.
Their presence was oppressive. Each emitted a cosmic energy so dense it could annihilate entire systems. Their mere existence was enough to freeze local time. Each was listed in the archives as one of the most powerful beings in the universe, ranked in the top 1000. All had mercilessly slaughtered: entire solar systems, thriving civilizations, children and adults. Billions dead by their hands alone.
They had come from everywhere.
Some had known slavery from birth, sold, broken.
Others were born in filth, with no gifts, scorned by all, before discovering their potential.
A few had been saved on intergalactic battlefields, about to die in anonymity.
Some had seen their home planets annihilated, their races reduced to nothing.
They had all seen in him a being who sought neither peace nor order. He wanted only to erase everything. And for that, they had sworn to follow him.
The man kneeling before the statue—that was him.
The leader of the Arcana.
The most wanted criminal in the cosmos.
Number 0: The Fool.
He had triggered civil wars by manipulating leaders, caused famine in dozens of Quadrants by blocking stellar supply routes, unleashed the Dimensional Parasite, and exterminated hundreds of inhabited Galaxies.
In his left hand, he held a white flower, streaked with red veins. The only organic relic of Entropian, it grew only here, nourished by the ashes of the vanished divine race.
Before him, the statue stood over ten kilometers tall. It was a slender female figure, arms outstretched toward the sky. Her face, sculpted with precision, bore an empty expression.
Her eyes had no pupils. Her mouth was slightly parted. The dark stone she was made of was cracked almost everywhere. Deep fissures ran from the top of her skull to her hips, like scars. Her belly was split, as if something had emerged from it.
It was the statue of Nihil, Goddess of the Singularity.
The Fool whispered, without raising his eyes:
"I swear to awaken you, my goddess. I've already located one of your nine fragments. Just give me a little more time..."
"..."
No one replied. Only the distant rumble of meteors striking the ground broke the silence.
He slowly rose, letting the flower fall into the black liquid.
"Let's go," he said.
...
Omega Quadrant, B-Rank Galaxy… Kepler 23b5
Kepler 23b5 was a thriving, orderly planet. The sky was a pure blue, streaked with aerial lanes organized by perfectly regulated cosmic traffic. On the surface, vast metropolises stood out with floating crystalline towers, magnetic vehicles gliding silently on energy rails, and suspended parks populated by genetically modified trees that purified the air.
Different species lived there without apparent tension. Multiracial stations floated above each district, serving as communication hubs, cultural exchange centers, and surveillance posts. Kepler 23b5 was a showcase of success in the Omega Quadrant.
This planet was under the protection of Nadir Ibn Asad, a respected Clover General and prominent member of the Universal Guardians, a unit tasked with protecting the Millennium Elders. Renowned for his efficiency and integrity, Nadir had a past marked by poverty. Born on a resource-poor lower-class planet, he had risen through the ranks by fighting relentlessly. It was under the wing of Elder Rahman Asad, a living legend, that he had forged his reputation, single-handedly dismantling over thirty revolutionary headquarters.
After sixty-two years of experience, he had temporarily retired from active service to live with his wife and two sons on a remote hill on Kepler 23b5, far from the urban hustle.
---
On this verdant hill, Nadir, bare-chested, held a polished wooden staff. His imposing three-meter frame and bulging muscles were still as impressive as ever, even in a family setting. He was training with his two sons.
He blocked his eldest son's attack with a precise movement, pivoted, and delivered a sharp blow to the chest of the younger. The latter stumbled back, coughing slightly. The general leaped to the side, dodging another strike, then swept the legs of the elder.
"Ah ah, I win," he said.
"You say that like it's not always the case," the elder grumbled, getting up.
"Yeah… he massacres us every time," added the younger, rubbing his chest.
Nadir leaned on his staff, breathing calmly:
"You lack reflexes. I'll have to double the sessions."
"No, please…" the younger sighed.
A powerful laugh escaped the general, interrupted by a familiar voice:
"Come eat, boys!!"
"Let's see who gets there first!" he said, already running off.
His sons didn't even try to follow. They knew he'd win and use it to tease them.
---
He landed in front of their modest house. Despite his rank, Nadir had never wanted a mansion. The dust kicked up by his arrival made his wife cough.
"You brute! Do you want to dirty everything?"
She lightly struck him with the wooden spoon she was holding.
"Ouch, sorry Myra."
"You're taking a shower before setting foot at the table."
"But I'm not even sweating."
As the scene continued in a relaxed atmosphere, a distant rumble echoed.
Nadir's gaze turned to the horizon. No clouds. No weather phenomena predicted. He frowned.
"Myra, listen carefully."
She stopped stirring her pot, worried.
"What's happening?"
"Take the children. Go to the underground bunker."
"You're scaring me, Nadir…"
"It's a dream fissure."
She paled. Since the end of the Third Intergalactic War, anomalies called dream fissures had appeared sporadically, releasing creatures born of Dark Energy: Nightmares.
He cracked his neck.
"I'll handle it. It's nothing for me."
His two sons returned running, worried. The wind picked up, cold, charged with tension. Below, the city had frozen. People weren't moving. All were staring at the sky.
"Myra, do as I say."
"And you…?"
He smiled at her.
"It's my job."
A sharp crack sounded. The sky split, a clean, unreal fracture. Black, corrosive energy slowly escaped, stifling the surroundings.
"A thousand times I've seen it… I'll never get used to it."
He tapped his bracelet. Blue and gold armor instantly covered him, merging with his skin. It looked like a second skin, flexible yet resistant. The fabric was reinforced with cutting-edge nanotechnology, optimizing the use of cosmic energy: Neon.
His hair stood on end, his cape activated, floating backward. A golden energy lance appeared in his hand. His stance was stable, rooted in the ground.