Prologue — Before Everything, There Were Them.
Before stories, before the void, before even nothingness itself… there was nothing.
No time. No space. No narration.
And yet, they already existed.
Azarion and Aetherion — two entities without origin or end.
Their power knew no limits, no laws.
They were the Absolute — omnipotent, omniscient, omnipresent.
The universe wasn't even a whisper in infinity when their very will began weaving the first threads of existence.
But soon, another light awakened.
An entity just as ancient, born from an even older concept: Lyra, the Primordial Before-Void.
Her existence remains a mystery.
From their will, Azarion and Aetherion shaped the Primordial Void — a place that resembled nothing, because it contained everything that could ever exist… or never exist.
At the heart of that void, they raised the Infinite Palace.
And from the Void itself were born servants of unimaginable beauty and power:
Eberus, Elysia, Kharis, Astra, Vorta, Nyx, Aethera, and Thalassa.
Then, one day, Azarion shaped an incarnation — a descendant, a fragment of his own essence:
> Zarion, the Prince of the Void.
From the moment of his birth, he was like his creators: omniscient, omnipotent, omnipresent.
But he wasn't interested in that power.
No. He was curious.
He wanted to discover, to explore.
To know what it meant to exist differently.
To feel. To marvel.
One day, he said to his creators:
> "What if I sent an avatar?
A version of myself… without all this divine burden?"
Azarion and Aetherion exchanged a long look. Then Aetherion smiled.
> "If you renounce your power, then perhaps you'll truly see creation."
So Zarion created a body.
No cosmic crown, no stellar mantle — just a simple look:
a white tank top, black jacket, dark pants, light shoes.
His hair, mid-length and black.
His face, almost feminine — androgynous.
He carried a blade that could take any shape he desired.
And he left every trace of divinity behind.
With one last glance toward his creators and their servants, he left the Infinite Palace.
He crossed dimensions, multiverses, and stories.
He plunged into infinity itself...
Until he arrived on Earth.
And without knowing, someone else was watching.
Someone tied to a far greater secret.
---
Chapter 1 — A Weird Guy in a White Tank Top
The sun was blazing that day.
A mid-sized city somewhere on Earth — nothing special at first glance.
Busy people, honking cars, street vendors, overconfident pigeons… the usual.
And in the middle of it all — him.
A boy walking calmly, white tank top, black jacket open, dark pants, mid-length black hair.
He looked… different. Not strange — just too calm for this world.
Too clean, in every sense of the word.
He stopped on the sidewalk, looking up at a giant screen on a building.
> "A new rift has appeared in District 7!
Hunters are asked to assemble immediately — end of message."
Zarion raised an eyebrow.
> "Hmm. Interesting."
Before he could move, a voice called behind him:
> "Hey, you!"
A young woman — short hair, sharp expression, slightly out of breath.
She looked at him with a mix of curiosity and confusion.
> "Where'd you come from? I've never seen you around here."
> "From here. Well… now," Zarion said with a small smile.
She squinted.
> "Right. You some kind of galactic tourist?
You look like an RPG character. Are you a hunter?"
Zarion replied honestly — though not fully:
> "Let's say I'm here to explore."
> "Explore what? The local food?
Because if so, bad timing — you heard the announcement, right?
An S-class rift just opened. You're not going there in that tank top, are you?"
He looked down at his shirt. Then shrugged.
> "It's comfortable."
She rolled her eyes, half annoyed, half intrigued.
> "Fine… I'm Lya. And you, cosmic tourist?"
> "Zarion."
> "Of course your name's Zarion. Why not Azurion while we're at it?
Anyway — you even know what a rift is?"
He let her talk — she seemed to enjoy explaining.
> "For the last five years, rifts have been appearing all over Earth.
Monsters from other dimensions come through.
Humanity couldn't fight back… until some of us awakened.
Now we've got hunters — ranked from E to SSS."
She paused.
> "And at the top, there's the Divine Hunter.
The strongest human alive. But I doubt that's you."
Zarion smiled faintly.
> "Maybe."
> "Seriously? What, you got a magic sword hidden in your sock or something?"
He smiled again.
> "Maybe."
She sighed, shaking her head.
> "Alright, whatever. Come on — there's a café nearby.
If you're new, I should at least teach you the basics before some interdimensional slug eats you."
And just like that, the Prince of the Void — who had never tasted soda —
found himself learning about portals and hunters over an iced coffee,
while the world trembled quietly in the distance.
---
Chapter 2 — The Taste of Soda and Interdimensional Monsters
Zarion looked at the can in front of him. He opened it slowly — pshhht —
the metallic hiss echoing through the quiet café. He took a sip.
He froze.
> "It's… sweet. Fizzy. Interesting."
Lya raised an eyebrow.
> "It's soda, not a magic potion. You've seriously never had soda before?"
> "Not in this life," he replied.
> "…Okay. You're either a committed roleplayer or a real weirdo.
And you talk like some ancient wizard."
He shrugged, watching people around them — their laughter, their arguments, their expressions.
Each emotion seemed to fascinate him.
> "You're staring at them like they're strange creatures," said Lya, biting her donut.
"You really aren't from here, huh?"
> "I'm just trying to understand this world. Its rules. Its… simplicity."
> "Simple? We've got rifts vomiting tentacles every three days."
> "Still simpler than what I'm used to."
She frowned.
> "You're not, like… an alien or some mystical being, right?"
Zarion smiled softly.
> "And you? You've never dreamed of a world beyond what you can see?"
> "Sure. But I don't have time for that.
I've got an A-rank rift tomorrow at nine, and I'm barely rank B.
Priorities — staying alive."
An alarm blared suddenly.
Everyone in the café froze, checking their watches or screens.
> "What's happening?" Zarion asked calmly.
> "A rift — nearby."
She stood up fast, grabbing a small device from her bag.
> "B-rank. Not too bad, but we have to move. You coming?"
Zarion stood, finished his soda, and nodded.
> "Why not? I've never seen an interdimensional slug up close."
> "You're weird… but kinda funny."
She ran out.
He followed — hands in pockets — like a tourist heading to a museum.
Except at the edge of the city, an abomination was crawling into reality.
---
Chapter 3 — A Tourist Meets a Rift
Sirens blared. People ran in every direction — chaos, fear, discipline colliding.
The rift hovered a few meters above ground, a violet tear in reality.
From within came wet, gurgling noises.
Lya tightened her gloves.
> "Okay — probable enemies: clawed crawlers, maybe a big one at the back.
We go in, clear it, get out.
You see anything weird, shout. And don't die, got it?"
> "I'll try," Zarion said quietly.
> "You don't even have a weapon?"
> "I've got my hands."
> "…You want to die, huh?"
But he just smiled — sincerely, as if this was all a game.
They stepped inside.
The place looked alive — pulsing walls, breathing corridors, thick purple fog.
Then came the monsters.
Three of them — deformed, twisted, dripping acid.
Lya dashed forward, punching one in the jaw — bones cracked, slime splattered.
She rolled, struck another with her knee.
Zarion didn't move.
The third beast lunged straight for him, jaws wide.
> "Move, idiot!" Lya shouted.
He raised his hand.
Just a touch — a faint motion — and the creature froze midair.
Then collapsed, lifeless.
Lya blinked, stunned.
> "Wait. What the hell did you just do?"
> "Touched a point. Let's say that."
> "What rank are you?"
> "Haven't been tested yet. I'm new here."
She stared at him. Then sighed.
> "You're hiding something, Zarion.
I hate mysteries. But damn, you've got style."
> "Thanks. Been working on my entrances since the dawn of creation."
> "…I can't tell if you're joking."
> "Neither can I."
They moved deeper in.
Then — a heavy sound. Something big. The boss.
> "Okay, time for a plan," Lya muttered.
"Or you gonna play your mysterious act again?"
> "I have a plan. You hit hard. I clean up."
> "You've got a cosmic ninja complex, huh?"
They both smiled — then charged.
---
Chapter 4 — The Boss Hates Jokes
The central chamber looked like a nightmare.
Black spiral pillars held a ceiling shaped like a ribcage.
At the center stood a monster — massive, cracked skin glowing red, one single crimson eye pulsing with rage.
It roared.
A deep, guttural roar that shook the air itself.
> "Okay," muttered Lya, stepping back. "It's ugly, it stinks, and it screams like an angry llama. I officially hate it."
> "You take the llama, or should I calm it down?" Zarion asked, arms crossed.
> "I'll take round one. Your turn if I die."
She dashed forward — lightning fast.
Slide, punch, roll, hit — her strikes echoed, but the beast countered, smashing her into a pillar.
> "Hit, but not down!" she yelled, spitting blood. "Your move, mystery man!"
Zarion sighed and stepped forward.
The beast charged.
He simply raised a hand — and it stopped.
For a moment.
Then it was launched backward, crashing into the wall with crushing force.
> "What the—" Lya breathed.
> "A minor local gravity twist," Zarion said, winking.
The creature roared again, mutating — blades and tentacles bursting from its back.
> "Great. Phase two. Like a damn video game."
> "Want me to finish it, or you want another beating?"
> "Nah, go ahead. I've done enough. Plus, it's kinda fun watching you show off."
He smiled, cracking his fingers.
The air shifted.
The monster attacked — wild, relentless. Zarion moved like water, untouchable.
Then he jumped.
His fist glowed — black and white energy swirling together, creation and nothingness entwined.
> "Sorry, big guy. Curtain's closing."
He struck.
The boss exploded.
A wave of energy rippled through the chamber. Silence followed.
Zarion landed softly.
Lya whistled.
> "Okay. You're definitely not normal."
> "That's what everyone says."
> "But you've got serious style."
> "I know."
They laughed.
The rift began to collapse — mission complete.
> "And now?" Zarion asked.
> "Now? You buy me coffee.
I want answers. Preferably with muffins."
Zarion smiled.
For once, he looked almost… human.
---
Chapter 5 — Coffee, Muffins, and a Revelation
The small café at the corner didn't look special, but Lya insisted.
"This is where I recharge after almost dying," she said.
Zarion figured — if he'd visited dead stars, he could visit a coffee shop.
He sat by the window, staring suspiciously at the chocolate muffin before him.
> "You know it's not a trap, right?" Lya laughed.
> "It looks like an ancient artifact. Smells… like sugar."
> "It's a muffin, dude. You worry me. You grow up in a cave without bakeries?"
> "Let's just say I was… raised differently."
> "Strict monastery or weird cult?"
> "More like an infinite palace at the heart of a primordial void."
She stared.
> "You don't have to be weird every time you talk, you know?"
> "I'm trying. Look — I'm eating the muffin."
He took a bite. Silence. Then — sudden enlightenment.
> "It's… good."
> "Welcome to civilization."
They laughed.
Then the air grew slightly tense.
Lya leaned in, arms crossed.
> "You're strong, Zarion. Way too strong for a newbie.
And I'm not talking about luck or talent."
> "You want to know who I am."
> "Bingo."
He hesitated, then looked away.
> "I'm a traveler. That's all I can tell you… for now."
> "And why are you here? On Earth?
Slaying monsters like it's nothing?"
> "To understand. To discover.
I want to experience things — like you do. To live."
She tilted her head.
> "You're weird. But you sound honest.
Fine. I won't push you. But if you're secretly some god's lost son,
I swear I'll punch you."
Zarion smiled.
> "Promise I'll let you hit me next time."
They sipped their coffee.
Meanwhile, in a secret facility somewhere, someone was watching.
A tall man with long white hair tied back, standing before a screen showing Zarion and Lya laughing.
His eyes — crimson, star-shaped pupils — glowed faintly.
> "That boy… I've seen him in my dreams."
He frowned.
> "And every time… it ends in annihilation."
---
Chapter 6 — The Spark and the Blade
In the city of Neria, the sky darkened unnaturally.
A Rank-S rift had opened above the shopping district.
Civilians were evacuated, hunters deployed.
Sirens blared — but an eerie silence followed.
That kind of silence that whispers: run.
Zarion and Lya were already there.
He stood with his hands in his pockets.
She chewed gum, weapon ready.
> "You could at least pretend to be nervous," she said.
> "Stress is an inefficient emotion. I studied."
> "Yeah, and I studied guys like you.
Cocky till they get punched in the face."
He smiled.
> "I wonder if that'll happen today."
Then — lightning.
A figure dropped from above, landing with elegance and force.
Hunters froze.
Lya's eyes widened.
> "It's him…"
White boots.
Long silver hair flowing like strands of starlight.
A black blade strapped to his back.
Eyes — red, deep, shining like galaxies.
Valen, the Divine Hunter, had arrived.
He walked toward the rift, unsheathing a plain black sword —
no aura, no enchantment.
> "This will do," he murmured.
Then he turned slightly, his gaze meeting Zarion's.
> "You and I… will talk later."
Zarion raised an eyebrow.
> "Hm?"
Valen stepped into the rift.
Silence.
Then a shiver.
> "Did he just threaten you?" Lya whispered.
> "No. He said we'd talk. Sounds polite, doesn't it?"
> "He looked at you like you're a ticking bomb."
Zarion frowned.
He could feel something — not hostility.
Resonance.
As if Valen was a missing piece of a much larger puzzle.
Inside the rift, monsters screamed.
One by one, their voices were silenced.
No explosions. No battle cries.
Just footsteps, a blade, and the quiet terror of inevitability.
Valen emerged minutes later.
Unharmed.
He wiped his sword with a white cloth and sheathed it.
> "SSS-class, huh? You might want to redo your ranking scale."
> "You… you cleared a rank-SSS rift alone? With a normal sword?" gasped a hunter.
Valen looked at him.
> "You're supposed to protect this world, aren't you?
Then start taking it seriously."
Then his eyes met Zarion's again.
And for a brief moment —
their gazes clashed like two mirrors refusing to reflect each other.