Before stars were born,
before Dao flowed like rivers,
before even Chaos knew its name—
there was a question the void dared not ask.
A breath without lungs.
A will without form.
A spark drifting in a sea without shore.
The Great Dao opened its eye—
and wept.
"He should not exist," whispered the Heavens.
But existence listened anyway.
He was not chosen.
He was not written.
He was not bound.
Yet even boundless Chaos bent around him.
He will awaken in the Age of Ending.
When fate rots.
When beasts rise.
When stars cry out for a new emperor.
They will call him an anomaly.
A mistake.
A threat.
But he… is the last mercy of the Great Dao.
And when he opens his eyes—
Destiny itself shall kneel.