In an unknown place, someone was drifting. Or more correctly — something. With a faint hue. A soul, it was.
It felt so cold. I felt so cold. Is this what death feels like? Probably not, considering I'm still alive. Or at least it feels like it.
I can't feel my arms or legs — really, my entire body. But it doesn't feel as strange as I thought it would. As if it's a natural state of some kind. Yes, that might be the answer. But in truth, who knows?
I can't remember anything. As much as I try, I can't. All I know is that I was fourteen, a boy, and, most of all, I was lonely — really lonely, in fact.
And it hurt. It hurt so, so badly. So badly it felt as if someone had grasped my very being and squeezed it with all their might, intent on causing me pain.
That's probably why I'm here. Yes, that's probably it.
But now I'm finally at peace. Maybe being alone isn't so bad.
And with that, I felt my consciousness finally slipping away.
In a fairly large manor, servants could be seen rushing about, gathering items and comforters. They moved in a frantic hurry, their faces marked by anxiety.
In truth, the mistress of the manor was going to have a baby.
She was enduring intense pain as she tried to push the baby out.
To comfort her during labor, they had placed her head on an elevated pillow, with a hot rag across her forehead to keep her temperature regulated as she continued to push.
Beside her, her husband did his best to comfort her, holding her hands and encouraging her not to give up. Behind him stood two dutiful servants, ready for anything unexpected and prepared to fetch whatever the mistress might need.
"Honey, it's okay. I'm here — just push," the husband urged, a slightly distressed look on his face as his wife groaned through the pain.
As the mistress continued to push, the baby was beginning to reveal itself.
"Sir! The baby's head has come out!" said the caretaker, observing the progress. She was there to ensure the baby was delivered safely and to call for extra help if needed.
Hearing that, the husband continued to encourage his wife even more, giving her the strength to push harder than before.
The pain continued to grow, but she held on, steeled by the knowledge that she was making progress.
And so, after a few more minutes, she delivered the baby.
Seeing this, the husband smiled. "Honey, you did it," he said lovingly.
"Yeah," she replied, breathless.
As the caretaker took the baby into her arms, she began to notice something unsettling.
The baby was motionless — more specifically, the baby seemed to have no emotion or feeling at all.
He didn't cry or move, simply staring with odd pitch-black eyes that seemed to look right through the caretaker and into her very being.
But the most prominent feature was a black panda-like marking around his left eye.
Feeling uncomfortable, the caretaker quickly handed the baby to his father.
"H-here's your baby, sir!" she stammered, then left the room in a few quick strides.
As the man gazed upon his son, his cheerful expression began to falter.
His son had an eerie black mark around his left eye. Beyond that, his hair and eyes were pitch black, and he remained completely motionless.
Noticing her husband's distress, the wife began to worry as well.
"Honey, what's wrong?" she asked, concern on her face.
"O-our son, his left eye is—" but before he could finish, the mother hurried over to check on her child.
As she examined the baby, her eyes widened. "Rudra, what has happened to our son?!" she cried, eyes full of worry.
"I—I don't know. Hopefully, the doctor will be able to find out what is wrong with him," he replied, discouraged and worried.
Weeks passed, and as the couple received more and more confirmation, they began to lose hope. The doctors and medics — even with their magic and skills — could not find anything wrong with their son.
They said nothing was out of the ordinary except his jet-black hair and eyes, which starkly contrasted with the father's gilded platinum hair and deep, sharp blood-crimson eyes, and the mother's platinum light-lilac hair with deep, sharp cerulean eyes. The strange panda-like marking, they concluded, was simply an unusually placed birthmark.
A few days later, the husband could be seen in his study, surrounded by piles of books.
Interrupting his deep research was his wife, Luceia.
"Honey, what are you doing here?" Luceia asked, worried about her husband's mental state.
"Looking for answers about our son's health," he said. But before Luceia could reply, he cut her off. "And before you say anything, surely you've noticed our son is getting weaker, haven't you?"
With a frown, Luceia approached him, gently caressing his shoulder.
"Yeah, I know."
Wrapping her arms around her husband's neck, Luceia began to show her true emotions. "Oh, what will we do, my dear Rudra?" she said, almost on the verge of tears.
"I don't know," Rudra answered quietly.
Moments later, someone interrupted their touching moment.
Moments later, someone interrupted their touching moment.
Though they didn't even try to attack or act wary, since this presence was all too familiar — had it not been, Rudra would have cut them down with a technique that would have killed them before they even finished teleporting in, despite their instantaneous arrival.
After their moment was cut short, Rudra rose to greet his well-acquainted guest, friend, and even master: Lord Veldanava.
"What brings you here, Veldanava?" Rudra asked curiously.
With his starry hair and ever-shifting, cosmic eyes, Veldanava replied, "The same reason that troubles you and Luceia: your son."
Hearing this, Rudra's and Luceia's curiosity peaked.
"What do you mean?" Rudra asked, intrigued.
"I think it's better if we talk in a place more comfortable for all of us," Veldanava suggested.
Nodding in agreement, the three of them headed to one of the manor's meeting rooms, where comfortable seating was practically everywhere.
Once they were seated, Rudra resumed the conversation from the study.
"So, what is it about our son, Veldanava?" he asked with a slightly worried expression. If it was coming from the Creator God himself, it must be important.
Luceia then looked down at their son in her arms with a troubled expression. She had gone to get him as they walked to the meeting room, knowing Veldanava had come about their child.
Veldanava, with a solemn nod, began to explain his presence.
"You see, before I cast away my omnipotence and omniscience to truly experience this world and all of creation, there was an anomaly. It was an abnormality within my creation, and even with all my omniscience, I could neither see nor sense it. Throughout my time here, I tried virtually everything, but could never find it — until now."
Rudra and Luceia went wide-eyed at his words.
Veldanava — the being who created all things, who had bested both Rudra and his rival Guy simultaneously, and who was Rudra's own master — couldn't find this anomaly, even with omniscience?
"S-so what does this have to do with our son?" Luceia asked anxiously.
"You see, back when there was nothing but me in the primordial abyssal chaos, there were mindless entities roaming about. They were completely different from anything I have created or could ever create. When I used my power to sunder the abyssal chaos and bring about creation, they all suddenly disappeared."
This was news to Rudra — Veldanava had never told him this before.
"And these beings were true anomalies, evolving and mutating constantly, growing, copying, stealing, consuming. They were true monsters."
Rudra gulped at hearing this. For Veldanava himself to call them monsters, after everything he had witnessed — they must truly be beyond imagining.
"Surely they aren't that bad, right? Are they coming back?" Rudra asked, clinging to a sliver of hope that Veldanava might be exaggerating.
Veldanava shook his head. "Do you remember the Monster God, Laplace?"
At that, Rudra nearly jumped out of his seat.
"You're telling me the Monster God Laplace was one of those creatures?!" Rudra exclaimed in shock.
In light of her husband's shouting, Luceia scolded him to be quiet, lest he wake their sleeping child.
Rudra quickly sat back down and apologized with a sheepish "Sorry."
Veldanava sighed. "No, it's worse. Laplace isn't even a direct relative of those creatures — he's a descendant of one of them, one that had already mutated. Meaning he's not even a pure remnant."
Rudra grumbled anxiously. "Are they coming back? Because I don't think we can handle beings like that. It took me and a few others a month of constant fighting to defeat Laplace, and even then we couldn't truly kill him. We might be stronger now, but I can't imagine fighting something worse than him."
Veldanava calmly sipped the tea a maidservant had brought in at Luceia's request.
"Luckily, you won't have to fight them. And to answer your question — they are already here, in your son," Veldanava said, taking another sip.
Luceia and Rudra both went wide-eyed.
"Ehhhhh?!" they shouted in shock, startling their baby awake.
Recovering from the surprise, Luceia spoke up shakily.
"S-so what will happen to our child? And how did they get there?" she asked, nervously drinking her tea.
"It seems my sundering of the void caused them all to shift into creation, seeking a being closest to themselves — your son."
"But why our son? What makes him so special?!" Rudra protested, struggling to accept it.
"Because your son is an abnormality as well. He is a nexus, a singularity. Not even I can see what will become of him or what he may awaken to. He is an error in my grand design, nonexistent within my creation, an anomaly inside the system. Your son is the promised child I have been waiting for."
Rudra perked up at that.
"What do you mean by all of this?" he asked, curious about where Veldanava was leading.
"See, back when I was stabilizing creation, I had a perfect idea in mind — a race that would embody perfection itself. They would be my complete and flawless masterpiece, a race born of the stars. Unfortunately, that dream never came to fruition.
Luckily, though, you and Luceia are practically it — perfect, godly humans. Though not the ideal picture I had back then, you two are as close as I could ever hope for. But your child is a different story — he is exactly as I imagined, and even beyond that. He is the promised child of the stars."
"So what does this mean for our son?" Luceia asked, with a worried and confused tone.
"It means he is the child of my perfect design: perfect, immutable, and perpetual. But he also exists outside of it, a misfit within perfection. He is the hero destined either to save all of creation — or to plunge it into chaos. Along with being the child of two perfect heroes, he possesses infinite possibilities and limitless potential, able to lead humanity — the race I chose — to become the promised people I always dreamed of."
"So there's nothing to worry about, then?" Luceia asked with a sigh of relief and a hopeful smile toward her husband.
"No, there's something else, isn't there, Veldanava?" Rudra interjected, sharp-eyed, studying his master.
"As perceptive as ever, my dear student. I was getting to that part," Veldanava said with a small nod. "As you know, the Great Tenma War is around the corner, and it will be no ordinary war. It will turn the cardinal planet, the stars, and even the world itself inside out."
"Yeah, you've told us that before," Rudra responded.
"I have — but I haven't told you why or how this war came to be. Truth be told, I don't know — at least, not this version of myself. But I do know that with the very last of my omniscience, I saw that humanity will surely perish."
Rudra's interest piqued again. "How come you never told us this before?" he asked, distressed.
"Because it came to me in a dream a short while ago," Veldanava admitted. "It was the last trace of my omniscient power, and now I truly don't know what will happen."
"So what will happen to our son? To our people?" Luceia demanded, growing increasingly anxious.
Veldanava sighed before answering. "Honestly, I don't know. But what I do know is that without your son, humanity will not have a chance."
"So how will our son fit into this?" Rudra asked, cutting to the point.
"I will need you and your son to help me," Veldanava continued. "See, I've built a system that records everything in creation, and it is meant to defend humanity against any threats that go against it. Using this system will assure humanity's survival — but without you or your son, it will all fail."
Rudra began to grumble, frustrated. It hadn't even been a year yet, and already his newborn son was being called upon to save humanity.
"W-we can't just let you use our son! Right, Rudra?" Luceia exclaimed, her tone visibly distressed.
Rudra took hold of the hand she had placed on his shoulder and kissed it gently. "I don't think we have much of a choice, honey."
Then Rudra stood up and faced Veldanava directly. "Alright, we'll help you — but on one condition."
"And that is?" Veldanava asked calmly.
"That you send our child somewhere safe," Rudra demanded.
"Okay, I can agree to that," Veldanava replied.
After saying that, Veldanava turned to leave, but paused as something came to mind.
"Oh, and also — meet me back here in two weeks so I can place seals on your son to ensure those beings don't try to corrupt him or anything."
Rudra nodded in acknowledgment.
"Great. I wish you two the best," Veldanava said before teleporting away.
Luceia, still holding her son, rested her hand on Rudra's shoulder again. "Do you think this was the right choice?" she asked, sadness in her eyes.
"I don't know," Rudra replied with a tired sigh. "This is all just too much."
"Yeah, I know."
And with that, they both left for their chambers, the weight of the world heavy on their shoulders.
Two weeks later
Out in the field behind the manor, Veldanava stood with Luceia and Rudra.
"Are you ready?" Veldanava asked them.
They both nodded.
"Alright then," he said as he began preparing the seal.
It was the Thousand Heavenly Gods Seal. As its name implied, it placed thousands of seals upon the target — seals that evolved and adapted to their target's powers, abilities, and physiology to keep them perpetually restrained. So powerful was this seal that even Rudra himself — the first, the progenitor, the original hero — could never break them once placed.
The world itself began to tremble as the seals anchored themselves onto the child of the First Hero.
Once the sealing was complete, Veldanava followed it with a transportation spell.
As energy surged through the air, several layers of magical formulas formed a towering pillar around and above the child.
Space-time warped, transcending dimensions, and the child was transported to a new era — safe from the Great War soon to come.
After using up the last of his omnipotence and most of his remaining energy, Veldanava collapsed to his knees, panting heavily.
Rudra rushed over, followed by Luceia.
"You okay, Velda?" Rudra asked, alarmed by his master's state — he had never seen Veldanava so weak before in his entire life.
Veldanava let out a light chuckle at the nickname Rudra had called him. It had been a while since he'd last heard it.
"Y-yeah," Veldanava replied, catching his breath, "I just used up the last of my power from when I was still omnipotent, along with a significant amount of my mana."
Rudra and Luceia both sighed in relief.
Back at the manor, Rudra helped Veldanava walk toward one of the guest rooms.
Once he had settled Veldanava down, the creator god let out a long sigh of relief.
Rudra then took a seat in a nearby chair beside him.
"Are you sure you're okay, Velda? I haven't seen you this weak in…well, ever," Rudra said, genuine concern in his voice.
"To be honest, I'm not sure myself," Veldanava admitted with a weary sigh. "Ever since I had my daughter, most of my power went toward her, and I was reincarnated into a human form. Since then, I've been growing gradually weaker until I reached this point."
Then he looked up at Rudra with a faint smile.
"Rudra, can you promise me something?"
"Anything," Rudra answered firmly.
"If I disappear, or if anything happens to me — will you make sure my daughter is safe?"
That request surprised Rudra, especially coming from Veldanava — someone who could reincarnate and recover his full strength.
Veldanava seemed to sense the questions in Rudra's mind and pressed him again.
"I just need a yes or no," he reaffirmed.
"Uh… sure, Veldanava. Weird coming from you, but… anything for a friend," Rudra answered, though uncertainty colored his voice.
"Thank you," Veldanava said, smiling with relief and reassurance.
Out on the balcony of the manor, you could see a beautiful woman — Luceia — gazing up into the night sky.
"Please be safe, my dear boy… Ludrea."