In the ancient epochs, before time could fully take shape, Earth was crafted by an all-powerful, all-encompassing being — a creator whose will shaped the very essence of existence.

To watch over his masterpiece, the creator fashioned a being with no form, no visage, a nameless entity bound only to the world it was tasked to protect.

The creator bestowed upon this formless guardian all his knowledge and nearly all his power, yet there was one thing the creator could not bestow — the secret of his own departure.

For a thousand years, the formless being stood guard over Earth, learning, growing, and cherishing its creator as a father, who will someday return. But as the world thrived beneath its careful watch, the creator left without a trace, to pursue an unknown purpose — a journey beyond the comprehension of the formless being.

Time, as it is wont to do, passed. Thousands of years. Hundreds of thousands. Then millions. Then billions. And still, the creator did not return.

Alone, the formless guardian began to evolve, slowly and painstakingly acquiring a shape and form of its own, an entity now bound not only to the world it was entrusted to protect but to the deep, immeasurable mysteries of existence.

It perfected its understanding, its sentience, its craft — the art of maintaining balance.

From its solitary domain deep within the world — a garden untouched by human hands, save for a single, fleeting stain that the first mankind did — the formless being observed the souls of countless lives, watching each of them keenly as they navigated the tumultuous seas of chaos, rebirth, and revival.

It saw their struggles, their failures, their fleeting moments of glory, and yet it remained detached, bound by the unyielding laws left by its creator.

The formless being had one purpose: to preserve the balance and the mortality of the beings that breathe beneath the heavens. To follow the commandments passed down by the creator — each one etched with meticulous precision, each of which has 426 laws that must be upheld without deviation.

Its existence was a perfect symphony of vigilance and order, as it followed the divine will of the one who had entrusted it with the world's care.

But even as it ensured balance, even as it watched the world unfold — something stirred deep within its being.

Gazing upon the forbidden chambers of creation, where the faith energy of humankind swirled like a vibrant nebula, the formless entity observed the miniature cosmos birthed from the coagulation of mankind's faith and belief. The faith energy — raw, untamed, and brimming with potential — was maturing. Its time had come.

And with that, the formless being whispered softly to the fluctuating winds of the garden.

"It is time to begin... to rewrite this world... by my hand, the ѾşеrvёеӨr."