The vault—a masterwork created by the hands of experienced, skillful artisans of every race and grade.
It was no mere storage chamber, but a monument of craftsmanship, precision, and paranoia. Forged through endless cycles of creation, revision, and destruction, it had been refined to perfection. Every loophole—every conceivable vulnerability—was patched and sealed. The vault had undergone countless iterations until its creators could boast with certainty: nothing of its kind would ever exist again.
Their reward?
Death.
Executed the moment their work was complete, ensuring that none who had touched the process could ever reveal a secret. Only the Celestial King remained—its sole keeper, the lone bearer of its design and purpose.
Why such obsessive caution?
Because of what, or rather who, was sealed within.
