The chamber pulsed with quiet light, Yggdrasil's roots humming softly around Karl's suspended soul. He floated in a place outside of time, the golden sap winding like veins around him, tethering him to the cosmos in ways he could feel but not fully comprehend.
Artemis's voice echoed in his mind — calm, deliberate, resonant.
"Before Creation, there was the Crack."
Karl saw the void. Not darkness, not silence, but a nothingness so absolute it defied comprehension — 10.8 billion years ago, a universe yet unborn, a cosmos without time, without light, without even shadow.
Then — a rupture. A cataclysmic explosion tore through the nothingness. Infinite energy detonated into being. The Pulse.
From that singularity emerged a rift: the First Crack. Through it stepped ten beings, not born, not created, but revealed. Entities of thought, energy, and pure divine will.
"They called themselves Primordials," Artemis narrated.
Karl's mind reeled as he watched the ten appear, each blazing with their signature essence:
Kaiser — Strength, rippling with muscle and power that shaped worlds.
Savitar — Momentum, a blur of speed, motion, and inevitability.
Hephaestus — Technology and Creation, forging matter with a thought.
Thanamira — Spirits, weaving life, death, and the intangible threads between.
Nocturne — Shadows, a presence that could consume light itself.
Moara — Curses and Voodoo, a labyrinth of paradox and hidden fates.
Poseidara — Ocean and Flow, tides of matter and energy, calm and destructive.
Voltraeus — Black Lightning and Rage, a storm of pure destructive impulse.
Aegriya — Barriers and Protection, a living bulwark, forming and holding reality.
Artemis — Intelligence and All-Knowing, a mind vast and patient, calculating possibilities beyond comprehension.
Together, they harmonized the first stars, shaped laws, and split time into threads that could be held. Worlds bloomed like blossoms, spinning in elegant orbits, bound to the threads of causality and creation.
But then — another Crack.
From it emerged Arae. Mangled, bleeding, broken across ten collapsed realms. He spoke only once:
"I… am Arae."
The Primordials welcomed him. They healed him. They trusted him. They invited him to their divine table.
Karl's heart clenched as he witnessed what came next. Arae's silent fury had already begun to manifest, even as he smiled and joined their ranks. Memories that should have remained lost flooded Karl: wars unrecorded by time, betrayals forgotten by all except those who lived them, and the seed of a shadow that would stretch across the ages.
Arae's curse was subtle at first — whispers of paranoia and doubt, a fever of mistrust. But it spread through the Primordials like wildfire. Karl's vision expanded, showing him everything:
Kaiser vs. Savitar, a storm of muscle and motion that left both nearly broken, shaking the foundations of reality.
Hephaestus and Poseidara, tearing the Skyforge Citadel in half with technology and tidal force.
Nocturne and Voltraeus, annihilating entire dimensions in a conflict of shadow and raw rage.
Thanamira and Aegriya, locked in a war of spirit and barrier, each strike bending souls and space alike.
All fell into ruin, except two.
Moara, a labyrinth of paradox and sealed hearts, remained untouched by Arae's influence.
Artemis, with unyielding clarity, endured the madness, reasoning through the chaos with a mind beyond temptation or corruption.
"Together, they acted," Artemis whispered to Karl.
Karl's mind absorbed it all. He saw the rebirth of stars, the formation of laws, the weaving of life across dimensions, and the countless cycles of creation and destruction. Yggdrasil's roots wrapped tighter around him, humming with echoes of every choice, every action, every sacrifice that had allowed reality to persist despite Arae's venom.
The vision shifted. He saw the birth of Yggdrasil itself, a tree stretching through infinity, its roots drawing from the chaos, its branches cradling the fledgling threads of life. The Primordials infused the tree with fragments of themselves, binding it to the cycles of creation. Each Chosen that would come in the future — Karl included — were seeds planted within its vast consciousness, their souls tethered for eternity.
"This is why you exist, Karl," Artemis said, her voice a calm current beneath the storm of visions. "Not by fate, not by chance, but by necessity. The universe requires you — all of you — to act against the inevitable collapse."
Karl saw glimpses of what was to come:
The rise of humans, fragile but stubborn, carving civilizations in the shadow of divine echoes.
Arae's indirect manipulations, shaping societies, wars, and calamities without ever revealing his hand.
The Chosen — each born, each tested, each forged to resist the creeping darkness in their own way.
And then he saw the threads of his own future: the nanites, the Voidburst, Karl's merging with technology, and the soul-bound bond with Alex. Each step, each battle, each sacrifice, already foreshadowed in the tapestry of Yggdrasil.
"The Primordials shaped the laws," Artemis said softly, "but the Laws themselves are not infallible. They bend, they break, they twist under the weight of ambition and anger. That is why Arae exists — a flaw, yes, but also a test."
Karl's mind trembled as he glimpsed the cycles of Chosen rising and falling, civilizations collapsing, and the slow, relentless spread of the Curse. The weight of eternity pressed upon him, yet Artemis's calm voice steadied him.
"You are not alone," she continued. "You never were. Even in the worst of times, fragments endure. Threads persist. You are part of something greater than yourself — a network of souls, bound to Yggdrasil, tasked with upholding creation where even the Primordials faltered."
Karl felt something stir within him, a spark that defied despair. He had seen gods fall. He had seen the universe fracture. He had seen the Curse bloom across countless worlds. And yet, he also saw resilience, ingenuity, and hope — the small, stubborn flame that Artemis had nurtured across eons.
"Remember this, Karl," Artemis said, her form now shining brighter than all the Primordial stars, "the universe survives not because it is perfect, but because it is endured. You endure. You act. You fight. And when the time comes, you will shape what the Primordials could not."
The chamber began to fade, the golden roots of Yggdrasil loosening their embrace. Karl's mind returned to his own body, his chest rising and falling, nanites humming quietly beneath his skin, the Voidburst dormant but alive. The visions lingered in him, echoes of the past and fragments of the cosmic truth.
He opened his eyes. Artemis's last words reverberated in his consciousness like a heartbeat across eternity:
"Creation endures… even in imperfection. And so must you."
Karl felt the enormity of it all — the rise and fall of gods, the Curse that haunted the universe, the sacrifices made across time — and yet, for the first time in countless eons, he felt ready. He would not merely inherit power. He would become a force that shaped the tides of destiny itself.