One million years ago, before humanity understood numbers, calendars, or the meaning of history, the sky shattered in silence. There was no roar, no blinding light. Only a rift in emptiness, as if the universe itself had stopped breathing for a single moment.
The oldest and greatest star to ever exist—Arkhon—collapsed from within.
Its explosion did not destroy the universe. Instead, it left behind something far more dangerous: change. Invisible waves swept through space, piercing planets, dimensions, and living beings without discrimination. From that moment on, the old laws of the universe were no longer absolute.
Creatures across the cosmos began to change. Some gained the ability to influence reality itself, while others died without ever understanding what had happened. Among all the worlds affected, one small planet at the edge of the galaxy received the quietest consequence of all.
Earth.
The remnants of Arkhon's destruction seeped into the planet like unseen rain. It did not choose. It was not fair. Out of millions of early humans, only half were touched by what would later be known as Stellar.
At first, it was seen as a miracle.
Humans who could ignite fire without wood, walk against the wind, or bend space before their eyes were revered as messengers of the heavens. Tribes united beneath such figures. Civilization advanced rapidly—too rapidly—far beyond what humanity was ready for.
But time always demands a price.
Hundreds of thousands of years passed. Kingdoms fell. Religions were born and erased. Stellar never vanished, but it became a tool—used for war, domination, and to justify slaughter that could no longer be called sacred.
Human history began to be written in blood.
By the time the world entered the modern era, Stellar was no longer worshiped. It was feared, monitored, and exploited. Nations built systems around it. Organizations emerged from the shadows. Stellar users were divided, classified, and weaponized.
In the year 2017, only twenty-nine percent of humanity still possessed Stellar. The rest were lost amid endless chaos. Great cities stood tall, yet beneath them lay a collective fear of a power that could never truly be controlled.
Behind all recorded history, one thing never changed.
The legend of the nine strongest Stellars.
No one knew who first named that number. There was no proof they ever existed at the same time. Yet every great catastrophe, every tragedy that altered the course of the world, was always followed by whispers of those names.
Moon Chess.
Moving Space.
Absolute Conception.
Satan Rumbles.
Star Transformation.
Holy Fairy.
The Order of Hell.
Space Destroyer.
Eternal Adaptation.
Some dismissed them as myths. Others called them curses. But those who wielded Stellar understood one truth: the world would never be truly safe as long as those legends endured.
In such a world, Yan Shuo was born without a single sign of distinction.
He came from no influential family, bore no ancient lineage. His parents were alive, exhausted by labor, and far too busy surviving to dream. Yan Shuo grew up without schooling, without direction, and without any understanding of the world beyond the narrow streets that raised him.
To him, Stellar was nothing more than a story on a screen—something distant, dangerous, and unrelated to his life.
From an early age, he learned one truth: the world had no mercy for the weak.
His days passed in dense silence. Watching people come and go. Hearing rumors of Stellar users who vanished. Of cities sealed overnight without explanation. Of organizations whose names were never spoken aloud.
Yan Shuo did not know what was moving behind the curtain of history. He did not know that a past one million years old had never truly ended.
He was nothing more than a single human.
A lone pawn on a board far too vast to comprehend.
Yet that board had been waiting.
In places absent from any map, the wheels of history began to turn once more. Plans laid centuries ago approached their final stage. Old names whispered again within the shadows.
And without anyone realizing it, a small move had been made.
Not by a king.
Not by a god.
But by a single pawn who had yet to learn the rules of the game.
The game that had been delayed for one million years had finally begun again.