He was born in the poorest mining belt on this world.
His parents died early; a kindly but equally destitute old mining couple took him in and raised him.
From childhood he wrestled with hunger, cold, and the constant threat of cave-ins.
In that struggle he forged an iron body and a grit that never yielded.
The dim lamps deep in the shafts; his foster parents' kind yet time-worn faces; the half slab of black bread a neighbor would secretly slip him when his stomach howled; the time he was beaten bloody by a bully for protecting a smaller friend—
All the hardship, the tiny kindnesses, and that blazing instinct to live wove themselves into vivid scenes.
"It's almost the end…"
Just as the boy thought the "lantern reel" before death was about to finish, the river of light that had flowed through his brief life did not fade—on the contrary, it became clearer, broader.
He felt like a drowning man, swept helplessly into a current formed of countless memory shards and fateful choices, every detail magnified to the utmost.
A nakedness unlike anything he had felt before seized him. This was no gentle review, but a scrutiny so calm it bordered on merciless.
He did not know that this was no deathbed illusion.
It was Leo—by dint of his supreme might—temporarily peeling this individual's personal spacetime line from the macro fabric of the universe and rendering it visible, shaping a private River of Life for one viewer alone.
Leo "stood" quietly upon its bank, his gaze as precise as a master scanner, passing over each node of the boy's life: the hunger and darkness in the mines; the stubborn refusal to bow even when beaten for defending the weak; and now, in the demon's pursuit, the survival will burning to an incandescent white.
He was not prying for prying's sake.
He was evaluating a seed—its grain, its toughness, and the directions in which it might grow.
Then—
Whumm—!
From the voided depths of the river's spacetime, a chain shot forth, braided of innumerable intricate runes of time and space.
It radiated an ancient, imperious, indisputable authority—as if it embodied the absolute power that keeps universal chronology in order.
A vast, indifferent voice rode the chain's howl, shaking this temporarily isolated pocket of spacetime.
"Audacious!What being dares to peer wantonly into a fixed timeline and disrupt the order of cause and effect?!
This is an act expressly forbidden by the Temporal Management Committee!Cease at once. Submit yourself for review!"
Even as the words rolled, a blurred radiance condensed at the chain's origin—vaguely outlining a figure robed in a long mantle embroidered with star-patterns, his face veiled in light.
His aura was powerful and old, carrying the chill hauteur of one long accustomed to holding the rules themselves in hand.
He was some higher custodian of the universe's temporal flow, alarmed by Leo's "improper" intervention and come to interdict it.
Leo, however, did not so much as twitch an eyebrow.
He merely lifted his head, calm eyes resting upon the chain lancing toward him—and the luminous figure behind it.
With that single change of gaze, something ineffable stirred—like the universe's sleeping heart giving one quiet beat.
It spread outward from Leo, unforced, unboasted: a presence that belonged above all rules, all concepts, all dimensions.
Not a blast, but a revelation—simply what was.
In the face of that breath, the seemingly unbreakable spacetime chain became sunlight's frost: it locked, then shattered inch by inch, dissolving into the most primal quanta of time and space and vanishing without trace.
The aloof silhouette jolted as if struck by an invisible hammer.
The radiance around him spasmed, nearly collapsing.
Where majesty and indifference had sat, horror and incredulity now flooded in—yes, even a flicker of fear from life's deepest instinct.
"Sanctuary rank?!
"Th-this is impossible!
"On this out-of-the-way First Cosmic Plane… how can there be—"
His voice went sharp and tremulous, all former posture gone, leaving only breathless shock.
He did not even dare to look straight at Leo—as if that ordinary seeming figure would scorch his sight.
"F-forgive me, Your Excellency," he stammered. "I have been presumptuous! Please… carry on!"
Without the faintest hesitation, the figure bolted like a startled hare.
Star-patterns flared blindingly across his robe as he severed every tether linking him to this cul-de-sac of spacetime, and in something very near to flight he plunged into the depths of time—gone, utterly gone—like a creature who knows that tarrying a heartbeat longer may bring something worse than annihilation.
The River of Life grew tranquil again.
The boy's "lantern reel" resumed its flow, as though the brief clash had never transpired.
Only Leo remained, still and serene, as if he had brushed away a speck of dust.
He turned the words over in his mind.
This so-called Temporal Management Committee appeared to be a higher echelon of temporal order's guardians; yet even such custodians must show deference before a Sanctuary-rank being.
He did not pursue.
He had no present desire to confer with that "administrator." His target had never wavered: this seed, dense with unbending will.
As for the custodian who fled in haste, it would likely be a long time before he recovered from the terror of encountering a Sanctuary-rank existence on this plane.
No doubt he was even now bearing back to that hidden, higher realm a discovery potent enough to jar the architecture of the upper multiverse.
Leo's brief appearance was a stone dropped into a placid lake; its ripples were already spreading—quietly, inexorably—toward unfathomable distances.
"…Is this… my life flashing before my eyes?"
the boy wondered blankly.
Then, a calm yet immense voice resonated directly within the depths of his consciousness.
"Your home is gone. Hatred and kindness alike are now but memories. Do you still wish to live?"
The boy's fading will gathered every last spark of strength.
"I don't want to die… not because I'm afraid—but because Father always said, every life, no matter how small, carries meaning."
"Every life… has its meaning!"
"Meaning?"
The vast voice rippled faintly, as though stirred.
"And to you, now—what is that meaning?"
"The meaning of living…"
The boy's flickering consciousness trembled like a candle in the wind, yet refused to go out.
"It's to become stronger… to avenge my foster parents…and everyone who died!"
"Your hatred, your attachments—none of it matters to Me."
The voice remained indifferent.
But the boy's mind spun faster, cornered between life and death.
That stubborn, defiant will of one born to the mines—the resolve of the oppressed—ignited again.
"Then let my meaning… be to serve you!"
"I'll destroy anyone who stands against you!"
"As long as I live, my body, my soul—they're yours to command! I'll wipe out all your enemies!"
Silence fell.
So deep it felt as if even the universe itself had frozen.
Then the voice came again—tinged with something faintly different.
Was it approval?
Or the satisfaction of finding a perfect tool?
"Remember what you've said."
"Tell Me your name."
"K… Koro…"
The boy used his last breath to answer.
Time resumed.
And in that instant—the demon, the corrupted ground, the tainted air itself—every trace of despair and corruption vanished, erased like pencil lines wiped from paper.All of it dissolved noiselessly into raw particles, leaving nothing behind.
Leo appeared before Koro without a sound.
His expression was tranquil, but in the boy's eyes, that calm figure was more divine than any god.
Leo looked at him, his gaze complex.
Not long ago, while conducting a routine observation of cosmic aether tides, he had noticed a strange distortion in this region's energy—an ominous, concealed vibration.
He had torn through space at once, but even so, he was too late.
The world was already lost.
Every living thing annihilated.
All, save this one boy, whose will refused to die.
Leo raised a finger.
A strand of golden energy, gentle yet brimming with life, flowed into Koro's body—instantly healing his shattered frame, purging every hidden wound and scar he had ever carried.
Then, a ring fell into Koro's palm—ancient in design, yet within it swirled the faint shimmer of a sealed nebula.
"Take it. Whether you can wield it depends on your fate."
Leo's tone was mild, almost casual.
Koro felt the overwhelming vitality surging through his veins, and the ring's mysterious pulse—like the heartbeat of the universe itself—resonating in his hand.
For the first time, he realized this was not a dream.
He had not died.
He struggled to rise.
Though weak, he straightened his back and knelt deeply, pressing his forehead to the ground before Leo.
"Koro… thanks you for saving my life!"
"In the name of the fallen Cain World, I—Rabi Koro—"
"Swear to become your sword, and cut down all your enemies!"
Leo's gaze seemed to pierce through him—beyond this boy, beyond the present moment—into the distant future.
A seed had been planted.
A seed burning with vengeance and unyielding will.
And Leo… happened to need such a seed.
For the darkness spreading quietly across the depths of the cosmos—the Abyss—was awakening.
Yet even he did not foresee that this small, spontaneous act would one day give rise to a blade powerful enough to pierce that darkness itself.
Vito Multiverse Administration
This was the secret institution that upheld the foundation of order across known universes.
Its headquarters did not rest upon any planet, but hovered in the void between realities—a colossal silver spire woven from the runes of universal law.
Inside the Primary Observation Hall, several beings of immense presence watched the central construct—the Cosmic Lattice Array, a shifting star-map of living data.
"Strange…"
An elderly elf in a deep cerulean robe, crowned with crystal, furrowed his brows.
"The signal from the Ashen Starfield, from Cain World—it's gone. Completely gone."
"Just moments ago its energy signatures were wildly unstable—yet even under attack, a world shouldn't drop to total null."
A half-mechanical, half-biological intelligence beside him flickered with racing data streams.
"Confirmed."
"Not merely a loss of signal—its entire energy field collapsed to near-absolute zero."
"Meaning the civilization flame is extinguished. All life traces—erased."
Silence descended.
To destroy a world was possible for many of them—
But to do it so swiftly, so cleanly—as if some vast being had simply swallowed it whole—was profoundly unsettling.
Before they could analyze further, the Lattice Array flashed with new anomalies.
Dozens—no, hundreds—of energy points from countless factions were now converging toward a single, remote sector.
"Hm? So many forces moving at once?"
"Some kind of joint military drill?"boomed a voice from a stone-bodied giant.
"Unlikely…"
The elf elder shook his head and gestured toward the signatures.
"Bloodclaw Pirates, Ashen Merchant Guild… all infamous marauder bands."
"Their trajectory is unified—they're converging on… some target."
Then they noticed it—a radiant concentration of energy in the direction of the Aresia system, growing exponentially brighter on their instruments.
"Could it be… they're gathering to strike against that newly emergent presence?"suggested the cyborg entity.
"Perhaps a large-scale Abyssal or Void Zerg incursion?"
The thought chilled the hall.
If true, it meant another outbreak.
The elder exhaled softly.
"If that's the case, it may be misfortune—but at least it shows the factions of the universe can still unite against a common foe."
"Yet… the frequency of Abyssal and Zerg activity grows higher each cycle. Wider too. It bodes ill."
Murmurs of agreement filled the chamber.
The Vito Multiverse Administration was no empire.
It was a guardian—a lighthouse preserving the fragile balance of order.
Its authority did not arise from conquest, but from ancient covenant, irreplaceable function, and the voluntary ceding of power by countless civilizations.
Its roots traced back to the age of the Final War—a cataclysmic conflict that nearly tore apart the core universes themselves.
That war had taught the greatest civilizations that unrestrained chaos, internal or external, would only end in shared ruin—whether from the backlash of their own power or the wrath of alien horrors like the Abyss and Void Zerg.
In its aftermath, the Synthetic Consensus, the Luminous Empire, the Arcane Federation, and the Starborn Elder Council—the mightiest among the survivors—joined countless others to sign the Starsea Accord.
The Vito Administration became its executor and overseer.
Its foundations rested on information sharing, law arbitration, and joint defense across all worlds.
Only beings of Astral Archmage rank or higher could serve within it—ensuring that each member possessed both the perspective and responsibility to act on a cosmic scale.
It stood as the last bulwark of order against the Abyss, the Void Zerg, and all forces of chaos.
But in recent millennia, the universe itself had begun to boil once more.
Demon claws tearing rifts through space; Zerg nests awakening from the depths—all portents of a turbulent future.
The stone giant struck his chest with a rumbling sigh.
"Our old ally, Emperor Soladin of the Luminous Empire—one of the greatest Starfield Lords—was gravely wounded fending off a sudden demonic invasion. They say… his time grows short."
The hall darkened further.
If even the mighty Luminous Empire had suffered such losses,then the shadow of the Abyss was deeper and nearer than anyone wished to believe.
And in the unseen corners of the cosmos—that shadow continued to spread.