A long time ago—so long that time itself had not yet been born—there existed a world untouched by sunrise or sunset. The heavens were wrapped in layers of pale gray mist, where the concept of day and night had not yet taken shape. The air was still, heavy with silence, and only the distant hum of creation whispered faintly in the void.
At the peak of a towering mountain, so high that its summit pierced through the drifting clouds, there sat a colossal woman. The stone beneath her was cold, almost lifeless, as though it had been carved from the stillness of eternity. Around her, a faint breeze carried the scent of the sky—an endless, weightless expanse that neither warmed nor froze.
She was immense—taller, grander, and more commanding than any human form could ever be. Her figure was a monument of power and calm. Yet within that calmness hid something that made even the wind hesitate before touching her robes. Swarms of butterflies fluttered gently around her, their delicate wings glimmering under the faint starlight—some shimmering like molten silver, others deep as night itself. Alongside them, crows with sleek black feathers circled lazily, their cries echoing low across the mountainside, creating a strange, haunting harmony between beauty and dread.
Upon her head rested a large black hat, sharp and angular like the legendary hats of ancient witches. It cast a dark shadow across her face, allowing only a portion of her pale white smile to gleam through. That smile—thin, smooth, painted like porcelain—resembled the expression of a jester's mask. It was both serene and sinister, a smile that offered no warmth and yet demanded attention.
Her cloak was long and heavy, black as ink, its hem brushing against the mountain rock below. The wind teased its edges, lifting the dark fabric just enough to reveal her hands—skin of deep tone, as if sculpted from shadow itself. Her sleeves reached all the way to her knees, and when she moved her arms even slightly, the fabric slid like flowing midnight water.
She sat upon the mountain as if she were part of it, speaking softly to the butterflies and crows surrounding her. Her voice was faint—so faint that it could easily be mistaken for the sigh of the wind. No words escaped clearly, but the rhythm of her tone carried meaning beyond language. The butterflies seemed to respond, circling her in slow, graceful spirals, while the crows croaked low and deep, as if echoing her unseen commands.
Then, something far beyond the sky caught her attention. Her head tilted upward, eyes narrowing as she gazed into the boundless void. In the far reaches of space, something was being born—a glimmer of light, faint at first, then multiplied. Stars. One by one, they began to appear, scattered across the black canvas of the heavens.
Her breath slowed. She watched in silence as those stars ignited, decorating the emptiness with fragile brilliance. There were not too many, nor too few—just enough to form a perfect, balanced constellation of light. They shone softly, breathing life into the void, and she found herself mesmerized. For the first time in an age, her stillness wavered. The faintest smile tugged at the corners of her lips again—calm, thoughtful, fascinated.
She rose slowly from the stone. Her full height seemed to challenge the sky itself, and her shadow stretched far across the mountain peak, swallowing the dim starlight. Her cloak rippled violently as the wind grew restless. Spreading her arms wide, she stepped forward, yet her feet never touched the ground again. She ascended effortlessly, rising into the star-streaked heavens like a living storm given shape.
Through the sea of stars she drifted, searching among them. Then she found it—a constellation brighter and grander than the rest, a gathering of stars whose radiance outshone all others. It dominated the sky, demanding to be seen. Her golden eyes hardened, reflecting the brilliance before her. To her, this constellation was imbalance made manifest—one light consuming the rest.
She despised it. To her, the stars should coexist, equal and unchallenged. This brilliance that overshadowed its kin was an offense.
She raised one hand, long fingers gleaming faintly with violet-black light. With a calm expression, she positioned her fingers delicately—and snapped.
The sound was barely audible, a sharp, crystalline click that seemed harmless. But across the cosmos, a tremor rippled outward. The massive constellation quivered, its stars flickering one after another. Some dimmed, others vanished completely, swallowed by the unseen breath of her will.
Before the last light could fade, a figure descended from above—a streak of divine radiance slicing through the sky like a falling star.
The newcomer was a man with skin of soft gray, his hair black yet tipped with bronze that shimmered like molten metal in the starlight. His garments resembled the robes of a priest, adorned with intricate dark-gray patterns laced with lines of bronze that shimmered faintly as he moved. His entire form bore only four hues—white, black, gray, and gold-yellow—perfectly balanced, perfectly measured.
As he approached, his voice thundered through the silence:
"You've come to thwart my intentions again, The Destroyer."
His tone was filled with restrained anger, a heat wrapped in cold composure.
The woman laughed—a sound that rippled through space like an echo within a bell. It was not laughter of joy, but of mockery. "You are The Creator, and I am The Destroyer. Is it not our duty to maintain the balance of all things?"
Her tone was laced with disdain. The man, The Creator, gave no reply at first. He simply exhaled, then chuckled quietly to himself. "Of course, I know. You are the one that prevents us from revealing our true supremacy. But, you've walked right into a trap."
And then, space tore open around them. From every direction, eight more figures emerged, each radiating a distinct light—red, orange, light green, dark green, light blue, deep blue, purple, and pink. They surrounded The Destroyer, forming a vast circle of color that shone like the spectrum of existence itself.
The Destroyer tilted her head and laughed again, amused. "You truly think you can fight me? That will be difficult."
As she spoke, her body began to change. Her shadowed skin rippled, the shape of her limbs expanding, twisting. Her hair seemed to turn liquid, drifting around her like living darkness. She was becoming something else—something no longer human.
A red aura flared around The Creator, and he laughed too, though his tone was different—low, controlled, but undeniably excited. He made no move to attack; he merely observed, eyes reflecting the spectacle before him.
The nine figures released their combined energy, forming beams of light that intertwined into luminous chains. They struck The Destroyer, binding her arms and legs, coiling around her like ribbons of divine judgment. The air trembled, the stars dimmed, yet still she struggled with terrifying ease.
"It seems you are too strong. We cannot fight you," one of them whispered, despair edging their voice.
The Destroyer's laughter rang out again, sharp and triumphant, shaking the very fabric of existence. But then, a new presence appeared.
A figure emerged from the void—a being impossible to define as either male or female. Blue hair, long and tied neatly behind. A face devoid of features—no eyes, no nose, no mouth. Draped in a pale blue kimono, holding a dark umbrella, the figure seemed to carry calm itself. The moment they arrived, the chaos fell silent.
The Creator's eyes widened in relief and joy. "All Things! You've finally come! Help us fight The Destroyer!"
All Things nodded faintly, saying nothing. From their hand came a triangular surge of light, glowing pure white, pulsing with rhythm like a heartbeat. It floated upward, merging with The Creator's own power.
The fusion of their strength erupted outward. The Destroyer's form began to flicker, her immense energy unraveling thread by thread. She screamed—not in pain, but in defiance—as her body dissolved into particles of darkness and vanished into the air. When the light faded, only three shimmering fragments remained—three pieces of soul, drifting weightlessly.
The remaining Creators tried to destroy those fragments, but every strike failed. Their powers could not touch them. So they gathered together and sealed the fragments within The Creator's hidden cave, locking them beyond reach.
All Things stood before the sealed fragments, motionless. For a long moment, they simply stared—then sighed softly, the sound echoing through the empty heavens.
"The Era of Balance has fallen," they murmured, voice calm yet heavy with inevitability.
"Now begins the Era of Creation."
And with that, silence reclaimed the stars once more.