Before everything shattered across realities, before power and battle became part of their daily breath, the girls had lived in what could only be described as a quiet world—a simple, almost uneventful place, where school bells and laughter filled the days. That world, ordinary yet vast in its serenity, had raised seven distinct souls—Lyra, Artemis, Tiama, Flamme, Friya, Flora, and Alexandrite—each unique, yet somehow drawn to one another as if by unseen gravity. They were known among their classmates as Gigingirls, a name that carried the ring of youth and mischief.
Their bond wasn't born purely from friendship; it was molded through disagreement and reconciliation, quarrels and tears, laughter and care. Lyra, the bright and ever-smiling one, was the spark that drew people together. Artemis, calm yet assertive, was the strategist, the one whose words could both soothe and command. Tiama's kindness stood like ground, patient and steady, always there when others stumbled. Flamme burned hot, impulsive, yet her loyalty was absolute. Friya stood cold and distant, but her quiet eyes missed nothing. Flora, shy and soft-spoken, seemed to vanish behind her hair and her books—but when she spoke, her words always mattered. Alexandrite, meanwhile, was the wild one—playful, unpredictable, and mischievous to her core, her laughter the kind that could turn a fight into a joke.
Together, they were inseparable. The Gigingirls' world was small, revolving around schoolyards, narrow streets, the sound of bicycle bells and summer cicadas. No one would have guessed that seven ordinary girls would one day be scattered across different worlds, carrying within them the elements that would define creation itself.
It began on an ordinary night—one they would later remember as the night of the seven. The town was silent, the wind cool and soft. Above, a meteor shower painted streaks of light across the night sky. Children pointed, lovers whispered wishes, and the Gigingirls ran together to the hill behind their school, where the view was clearest.
Flamme was the first to gasp. "Look! That one—it's huge!"
A comet brighter than the rest tore through the clouds, then split into seven streaks of color—crimson, azure, earthy green, ember, aquamarine, bright green and golden. Each light curved downward, diverging like rivers of light, vanishing beyond the forest to the east.
"Let's go!" Alexandrite shouted before anyone could stop her.
And so they went—barefoot through the grass, through the whispering trees, hearts pounding with a thrill none of them could name. What they found deep in that forest would change everything.
Seven spheres lay scattered among the roots and stones, glowing faintly, each pulsing like a living heart.
Lyra stepped toward the crimson one, its glow flickering like lightning trapped in glass. "It's… beautiful," she whispered, reaching out.
And as her fingers brushed the surface, a spark ran through her body, igniting the world around her in light. The others screamed—yet one by one, each was drawn to their own sphere. Artemis's fingers found a blue sphere swirling with clouds and static. Tiama's hand touched the one of gentle earthy green, as smooth and translucent as crystal dust. Flamme seized the sphere of burning orange, grinning wildly as it glowed hotter. Friya knelt before the white-blue orb that exhaled frost. Flora hesitated before the sphere blooming faintly with vines and petals. And Alexandrite, curious as ever, brushed against the radiant golden sphere that pulsed with warmth and light.
When they opened their eyes, the world seemed sharper—alive. They could feel it: the current of electricity under their skin, the whisper of air that bent to their call, the hum of life in the soil beneath their feet.
And then they heard the voice.
It came from the forest itself, or perhaps from within their minds—a voice ancient, mechanical, yet strangely warm.
"You… who are chosen… will become the new bearers of the Power Spheres."
The light intensified, and for a moment, they saw seven figures—machines, yet not merely machines—floating above the ground, their bodies sleek and luminous, cores glowing with the same colors as the spheres.
Voltrabot. Tempestbot. Crystalbot. Novabot. Blizzardbot. Junglebot. Gammabot.
Each chose a girl, merging energy with flesh and soul. In an instant, the Gigingirls became something more—something greater than they could understand.
But not long after that night, the peace of their lives began to crack.
Rumors spread across the region—of strange events, people with powers, strange machines. And with those rumors came the huntress, an green alien woman with square head known as E Dada.
Their first meeting was not friendly. She appeared in the middle of their town, chasing after a sphere that emitted waves of sonic. The girls, still inexperienced with their powers, mistook her for the cause of the chaos. The battle that followed tore through the streets. E Dada's movements were sharp, her weapons strange, but when the dust settled, she didn't strike them down. Instead, she smiled.
"You're not strong," she said, lowering her weapon. "However, I thinks leave you live will make everything extremely interesting."
From that day on, their paths crossed often—sometimes allies, sometimes rivals. There were battles they fought together, against villains who sought to drain the Power Spheres for their own use. There were times when trust was thin, when friendship bent under the weight of secrets and half-truths. But slowly, grudgingly, they learned.
Years passed. They were fifteen when the name Reiza entered their lives. Captain Reiza of the SAGOPS organization—Search And Guard Over Power Spheres—was a woman of presence, her uniform bearing the insignia of authority and strength. She came to them not with threats, but with an offer.
At first, they resisted. They fought her, believing she sought to imprison them or take their powers away. But Reiza was no simple soldier. She outmatched them effortlessly, her mastery of combat and Power Sphere, Enerbot, far beyond their reach. Yet she didn't harm them. She looked at them with a rare mix of admiration and pity.
"You fight well," she told them. "But you lack purpose. Come with me. Learn what it means to protect the balance. You may not trust me now, but the universe will need you soon."
It was Alexandrite who first agreed, her curiosity stronger than her doubt. The others followed, some out of conviction, others out of the unspoken fear of losing each other. And so, under Reiza's guidance, the Gigingirls became part of something greater.
Their lives changed—no longer confined to one small world. They trained aboard colossal space stations, learned to navigate interstellar missions, and guarded worlds that shimmered like jewels in the void. Each mission tested them, hardened them. They saw destruction, betrayal, loss—and yet, they grew.
Until that day.
The mission to retrieve the Voidbot—a Power Sphere unlike any other. It did not radiate light or warmth. Its surface was pure darkness, a black mirror that devoured the glow around it. Reports said it carried the power of nothingness itself.
Even Reiza hesitated before authorizing the mission. "If this goes wrong," she warned, "there will be no rescue."
But the Gigingirls had faced danger before. They accepted without hesitation.
When they reached the coordinates, the sky above that world twisted. The Voidbot hung in the air, suspended in an unnatural stillness. As they approached, their Spheres trembled.
Then, without warning, the Voidbot activated.
A pulse of darkness expanded outward, a shockwave that tore the atmosphere apart. The ground cracked. Space itself began to distort.
"Fall back!" Artemis shouted—but it was too late.
The rift opened. Time folded in on itself, and reality splintered. They were sucked into the vortex, screaming, reaching for one another—Lyra's hand outstretched toward Alexandrite's, Flamme shouting the others name, Friya crying out words lost in the void. One by one, they vanished, their worlds consumed by light and darkness.
And when they awoke—
—they were no longer together.
Each found herself alone, in a world unfamiliar, breathing air that wasn't theirs, under skies that held no memory of home. The powers they carried still responded, but everything else had changed. The threads of fate that once bound them had been cut and scattered across seven realities.
(Back to present time)
The girls finished telling their story. Across seven worlds, the silence that followed felt heavy—filled not with words, but with the weight of memory.
Lyra's fingers traced the rim of her cup as she looked at Ragnar across the small tavern table. Artemis stood quietly beside the watchtower railing, her gaze meeting Noctus's in the cold moonlight. Tiama set her teacup down, the faint sound of porcelain on metal echoing in her room as Gaiard listened. Flamme's eyes shimmered faintly in the neon-lit diner as Ignis leaned forward. Friya's voice faded amidst the hum of the café, and Friz said nothing. Flora's breath mingled with the forest wind as Heim smiled quietly. And Alexandrite, sitting beside Alstar on that digital cliff, spoke the last words with a voice that trembled just slightly.
"That's our past," they all said, across seven worlds that could never meet again.
And then, like an echo from one timeline to another, they asked—
"…what about you?"
The listeners—Ragnar, Noctus, Gaiard, Ignis, Friz, Heim, Alstar—fell silent.
Their eyes, each reflecting a different sky, stared into the distance, where the line between fate and memory blurred.