Prologue – The Fracture of Dawn
The world had forgotten what peace felt like.
Silence no longer meant calm — only absence.
After the fall of Primexe, the earth itself seemed to breathe in mourning. The skies bled rust; oceans boiled beneath pale lightning. The ground whispered with the echoes of battlefields still burning, of wills broken but not forgotten.
The Corruption had ended, but not through victory — through exhaustion. The world was not saved. It merely stopped fighting long enough to die quietly.
Yet, in that stillness, something moved.
Fragments of consciousness drifted through the ruins of reality — the remnants of those who once called themselves Awakened. The energy of their defiance, their rage, and their will refused to fade. Instead, it spread, crawling through every shadow and every spark that dared to exist.
And from that collision of darkness and light… a pulse was born.
It began as a heartbeat beneath the ocean's floor. Weak. Reluctant. But steady.
Then another, deep within the cracked crust of the world.
Then another, burning within a sun that refused to die.
Three heartbeats. Three calls. Three awakenings.
The universe had learned pain — now it sought balance.
It reached through the fragments of creation, stirring those capable of carrying both purity and corruption within their souls. The "Opposites" — beings forged not by destiny, but by the contradictions of existence itself.
The first to answer was the tide.
The second, the will.
The third… the fire that had once been Prime.
But they were not alone.
For when the light stirs, the shadows remember. From the cold between stars, ancient beings — Paradox, Calamity, Ashura, Zero, and Gaia — opened their eyes for the first time in eons. They had watched creation rise, falter, and rot. Now, they would rise not as destroyers… but as corrections.
Thus began the Age of Awakening.
The era when the living became reflections of stars, when every soul burned against its opposite.
When the question was no longer "Who will survive?"
but "What will remain when both light and dark burn out?"
The dawn fractured, spilling gold and crimson across the broken horizon.
And beneath it, a voice whispered — not from above, but from within:
> "Rise again. For the world does not end. It only changes who remembers it."