Long, long ago, before the dawn of humanity, there was something that defied the very fabric of understanding—something so ancient, so abstract, that no word could contain it. It was simply called Power. A force so immense, it whispered through the very fabric of time and space, yet no one could truly grasp its nature. In the beginning, it wasn't a being, nor a concept as we understand them today. It was an essence—untouchable, formless, an all-encompassing presence that lingered in the void. A primordial force that shaped the world in ways unseen, influencing everything without ever being noticed.

For eons, humans lived in blissful ignorance of its existence. Their world was simple, filled with the struggles of daily survival. As the saying goes, "Ignorance is bliss," and in this bliss, they remained untouched by the overwhelming force that predated them. The Power, in its quiet eternity, was nothing more than a shadow to them. A distant memory of a time long before.

But time, ever relentless, moved forward. Slowly, imperceptibly, the Power began to shift, to change. No longer formless, it began to take shape—a being, but one unlike any other. Flesh and blood, yet not quite human. What kind of being was it? Some whispered it was something beyond comprehension, an ancient entity birthed from the chaos of creation. Others claimed it was a forgotten god, primal and untamed, waiting for the right moment to reveal itself.

And then, one fateful day, the Power chose to emerge from the shadows. It could have remained hidden, untouched by the world, but instead, it chose to walk among men. It donned the guise of humanity, blending in, but no disguise could mask the essence of what it was. Like a wolf among sheep, its presence was felt, even by those who did not understand it.

For the Power was never meant to be known—not by mortals, not by gods. It had its own design, its own purpose, and the world would soon find out that nothing would ever be the same again.