"The echo of a moment lives longer than the moment itself. We are merely custodians of our past tense."
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In a dimly lit room, viewed from the third-person perspective, a purple-haired, red-eyed kid wearing an eyepatch that faintly glowed with runes was sprawled lazily on the bed. His head rested comfortably on the lap of a crimson-haired, crimson-eyed woman. The heavy silence of the night had just begun to settle.
Seeing the boy still visibly energized, the woman ran a hand through his purple hair and let out a low, warm chuckle. "Azrael, it's time for sleep."
The boy gave a slow, theatrical groan, burrowing his face into her thigh. "I'm not sleepy yet." After a brief moment, he snuggled deeper, his voice turning into a sweet, pleading whine. "Tell me another story, please, Mom, please. I promise to fall asleep right after this one."
The mother looked down at her son, a flash of pure mischief lighting her eyes. "Well, well, well, you seem unusually energetic today," she said, letting her voice drift up teasingly. She placed a hand on her forehead, mimicking a distress so great it was almost a performance. "What should I do!"
Azrael, completely focused on securing his story, saw the theatrics as his opportunity. He shifted restlessly. "Just tell me one more story and I will sleep," he insisted.
Hearing the firm demand, his mom moved her hand from her forehead to her chin rubbing it as if in deep contemplation, her crimson gaze sharp. "But, Azrael, this is the fourth time you've made that exact promise tonight."
The kid, utterly determined, seemed not to hear the quiet protest, continuing to mutter, "Please, please, please," pulling the most irresistible, cute expression he could manage, his one visible red eye wide and earnest.
The mother, fighting a smile, finally surrendered. With a soft sigh that was more air than annoyance, she said, "If you are truly overflowing with energy, it looks like I'll have to increase the intensity of your training tomorrow."
The effect was immediate and total. The kid, Azrael, instinctively shrank his little body under the blankets and shivered. The memory of the day's hellish training sessions—the crushing exhaustion and burning muscles—flooded his mind. The thought of that routine becoming more intense was terrifying.
Gulp. The faint, wet sound of swallowing saliva was distinct in the quiet room.
Immediately after, Azrael, a smart kid indeed, instantly feigned sleep, his small form going unnaturally still.
The mother watched his clumsy attempt with quiet amusement, thinking, 'The breathing is much too shallow and uneven—so childish.' Then she spoke, her tone gentle but firm. "Alright, no need to pretend. I'll tell you a story."
At this, Azrael's head perked up just enough to confirm he was listening.
Seeing this subtle movement, the mom teased with a gentle chuckle, "So you weren't asleep after all?"
Azrael immediately puffed up his cheeks, the movement shifting his eyepatch slightly. "Who said I wasn't asleep? I was clearly visiting the dream land!"
"Alright, alright, my dream lander," she teased back, smoothing his hair down. "Now, lie still. Do you want to hear a story?"
Azrael settled his head obediently back on his mom's thighs, the faint glow of his eyepatch runes pulsing softly. She cleared her throat and began her tale.
"In the beginning, nothing organic existed in the universe—only vast, cold stars and empty planets. That was until two colossal stars collided in a spectacular flash, causing a truly great cataclysmic bang. And from that incredible collision, something brand new was born. Life itself was born, and the first manifestation was a massive plant which eventually grew to be called The World Tree. From its powerful roots, all other trees and plants eventually sprouted across the cosmos. After an unknown measure of time, the World Tree began to bear fruits."
At the mention of the word fruits, Azrael, ever the fruit lover, perked up and interjected eagerly, his curiosity overcoming his self-control. "Are they sweet, Mom?"
His mom gave him a light, rhythmic tap on the head. "I told you to always maintain your composure, little one. And to answer your question, yes, they are exquisitely sweet."
Seemingly having found a definitive purpose, Azrael enthusiastically declared, "I'll surely eat one of those fruits someday!"
His mom looked down, her crimson eyes twinkling with amusement and mischief. "You've already eaten them kid," she mused, letting the words hang in the air.
The poor kid snapped his head up, his single visible eye widening in disbelief. "When?" he blurted out.
Ignoring his shock, she smoothly continued, "Just let me finish my story, please. So, where was I? The World Tree bore fruits. For ages it stood like that, until the very first fruit finally fell. That fruit split open, and from it, the first beast, or the so-called first race, was born, covered in a strange, thick, white sap. Over time, more and more of these fruits began to—"
She stopped, noting Azrael's dramatic slackening of attention. His visible eye was glazed over, looking utterly hollowed out with boredom.
Seeing her son's blatant display of disinterest, she gently tapped him on the head again, forcing his focus back. "You see, you ate that fruit, anytime you consume flesh, blood, and bones," she stated.
Azrael, having completely lost the thread of the narrative, tried to settle down for sleep again, but she held him firmly. Amusement, now laced with genuine playfulness, dripped from her voice. "You just begged me for this story, young man. You don't truly believe you can escape to sleep without hearing the whole thing, do you, kid?"
Still wanting to mess with him, drops of blood floated out of her skin, causing Azrael's one eye to widen in familiar dread. The blood quickly condensed into a blood-red rope which swiftly bound Azrael by his wrists, mouths and ankles. Under her absolute control, he was then hung upside down from the canopy of the bed.
"There. That should definitely make you less sleepy, shouldn't it, Azrael?"
The reply was a muffled sound of indignant protest from the poor, swaying boy.
Casually crossing one leg over the other, she continued, "Now, where was I, hmmm? Ah, yes. As more fruits fell, civilization began to form. The distinction became crystal clear: beasts with intellect were called races, and those without were simply called beasts. These races built great civilizations, but constant war soon spread across the entire universe, with planets being destroyed on a whim. The world was slowly succumbing to chaos.
"And then, a particular group of people set their ambitious eyes on the ultimate prize: the World Tree itself. They began intense research and resource exploration. But such a powerful resource inevitably attracted countless opportunists. At first, everyone took what they wanted and left, until the first group of explorers decided to charge wages and establish claims. Wars were instantly waged again, with races fighting to claim sections of the World Tree. Every day, countless people died trying to secure their portion.
"One day, it seemed the World Tree had finally had enough of the constant, greedy conflict and, as the legends tell, snapped in anger. The entire universe collapsed in on itself, compressed, and then violently reformed. More people died in its catastrophic reformation than in all the ages of war combined. And from that reformation, a new planet was born—this time, unimaginably sturdier and stronger than any before. The surviving races were given a total restart, allowed to begin again once more with absolutely no memory of the past on that pristine world. And that planet is the one we all currently live on.
"You want to know a fascinating fact? The new planet is one thousand eight hundred and forty-three times stronger than the old ones. So, Azrael, the story I told you today is the true, hidden history of the universe itself. Any questions?" she finished, finally releasing the tension on the blood-rope.
She lowered the poor kid gently. After quickly stretching his tingling limbs, Azrael casually asked, "If we had no memories of the past, then how do we know all this stuff? I suspect this story is a scam."
She smiled, a knowing glint in her eye. "We know because of Klaus Syl Moon-Shade, a Dark Elf also known as the World's Greatest Archaeologist. He possessed an innate spell that allowed him to observe the history of whatever object or place he wished."
"Wow, so he had an innate spell like mine! That explains it," Azrael's visible eye lit up with dawning realization as he bumped his fist into his palm in sudden understanding.
Before he could ask another question, his mom smoothly hoisted him up and into his proper spot on the bed. "Azrael, time to sleep." As she firmly tucked the covers around him, he mumbled with a tired yawn, "Good night, Mom."
His mom appeared at the doorway with unnerving speed, her expression soft. "Good night, son." She switched off the lights, stepped outside, and quietly shut the doors behind her, leaving the room to the settling darkness.