In the beginning, before time had a name, there was only darkness—an infinite void, cold and impenetrable. There were no stars, no planets, no life. Just an echo of stillness, a boundless emptiness that stretched out endlessly. It was here, in this vast nothingness, that two beings first emerged.

One was born of light—a radiant, powerful presence that brought warmth and creation to the cold void. The other, a being of darkness, was a shadow whose very existence consumed and bound the world around it, a quiet force of destruction and decay. They were alone, their vast existence stretching before them like a canvas untouched, and in their isolation, they felt the pang of longing, a yearning for something beyond themselves.

In their shared solitude, the being of light cast forth a single spark—a flicker of warmth into the abyss. A small glimmer that, like a heartbeat, began to grow and spread through the vast emptiness. The darkness recoiled, disturbed by the presence of this new creation. But it could not halt its spread. Instead, the earth began to take shape, solidifying beneath their feet. Mountains rose from the void, valleys carved themselves into existence, oceans spread wide and untamed. The very ground beneath them grew solid, becoming a foundation for what was yet to come.

Together, these two beings—one of light, one of darkness—shaped the world. The being of light coaxed life from the earth, breathing it into the soil. From dirt and air, they created creatures—beasts of every shape and size, each crafted with deliberate care. Some soared through the skies, others roamed the vast lands, and some swam through the boundless oceans. Life flourished under their watchful eyes, each creation a testament to their power.

Yet, as time passed, the gods grew restless. The world they had made was beautiful, but it was only a single piece of an infinite, unending darkness. In their shared contemplation, the gods sought to expand. With a single thought, they reached beyond the bounds of their world and into the darkness once more. They shaped new realms—universes of their own design. Each new universe was an echo of their power, a reflection of their will. Each was unique, shaped by the combined force of light and darkness, yet all were connected by a single thread—a stream that flowed through them all, unseen but ever-present, binding the many worlds together.

These gods, the creators of everything, birthed the very land upon which you stand. And this, the first universe, the place where the gods reside, is where our story begins.

But not all are content with the way things are. Not every mortal is satisfied with their place in the world. And so, as the gods watched from afar, the multiverse grew unstable, its delicate balance of creation and destruction beginning to crack.

What happens when the birth universe—the first of many—begins to falter? What happens when the very foundation of existence itself begins to shake?

For the gods, those who shaped the world with such care, what will become of the multiverse if the original world begins to fall? The balance between creation and destruction, light and dark, is fragile. And now, there are those who would tear it all apart.

–

I never asked for this. I didn't ask for power. I didn't ask to be different. But I couldn't stop it. Not then.

When I was young, I didn't understand it. The flames that started small in the pit of my chest. I'd get angry, upset, and they would flicker into existence. At first, it was just a little spark, barely a warm breath on my skin. But that spark grew. And then, one night, it burned everything.

It started like any other evening. My birthday had been amazing—until my parents started arguing again. Just like always. Even on a special day. Their voices had grown louder, sharper, until I couldn't stand it anymore. I didn't even realize what I was doing. The heat, the anger—it all just spilled out of me. My hands burned with it, flames flickering along my fingers. I don't know how it happened. One moment, I was standing there, powerless to stop it, and the next… my world was ablaze.

The house, the kitchen—everything went up in flames. My parents—my whole life—was gone in an instant. I remember hearing their screams, but they didn't matter. Not at that moment. The fire... it was all I could feel. I couldn't stop it. I couldn't control it. It was like the anger had taken over, had consumed me whole.

I woke up outside, my body cold and shaking, the smoke stinging my eyes. But there was nothing left. No home. No family. Just the echoes of what I had done, hanging in the air like a heavy cloud.

I killed them. The fire... it was me.

I don't know how long I stood there, staring at the ruins of everything I once knew. My parents, gone. My life, shattered. The guilt, it's something I've carried ever since. It hasn't let me go. I don't think it ever will.

That night, my grandparents found me. They were the ones who took me in after everything was lost, after the fire had taken everything away from me. They didn't blame me—not outwardly. But I knew what I had done. I couldn't forgive myself.

**Eight Years Later**

I wake up to the smell of something burning.

At first, panic flared in my chest. I freeze, every muscle tensed, my breath catching as the same old fears rush back—fire, destruction, guilt. But then I hear my grandfather's familiar chuckle, followed by a cough. I relax, realizing it's just breakfast.

Grandpa's at it again. Despite years of trying, he still can't cook without setting off the smoke alarm.

I rub my face and sigh. Today is my birthday. It doesn't feel special anymore. It's just another day—a reminder of what I lost.

But today, I turn 16. That means I can finally enroll in Aurora Academy.

I push myself out of bed and head downstairs, trying to shake off the unease. Aurora Academy isn't just any school—it's a training ground for heroes. You have to be chosen to attend, and the testing is rigorous. Only the best and brightest can make it through the entrance exams. That's the kind of place I need if I'm ever going to control this power inside me.

I walk into the kitchen, trying to put on a smile. "Good morning, Grandpa. What's for breakfast?"

"Well, I was gonna have some good ol' grits and ham," Grandpa says, turning to wave a spatula at the pan. "But, uh, I burnt the ham."

I can't help but chuckle. Grandpa may not be a master chef, but he always makes me feel better.

"Where's Grandma?" I ask.

"She's still in bed, the lazy thing. Why don't you go wake her up?" Grandpa says with a wink.

"Sure thing," I reply, heading upstairs. My grandmother will be asleep for a while. She always stays up late reading, so mornings are slow for her. As I knock on her door, I can't help but wonder. Am I really going to do this? Am I really going to become a hero? A mon-"Come in!" Grandma's voice breaks through my thoughts. I walk into her room. 

"Morning, Grandma. Grandpa sent me to wake you up. Breakfast is ready—though a little burnt."

"Is it now, the silly thing? Alright, I'm coming, I'm coming." She gets up slowly, smiling at me.

We all sat down at the table. "So, Ryujin, tell me. Have you decided? Will you join Aurora Academy?" Grandpa asks.

I look up from my plate. "I'm happy to have received an invitation, though it's under the pretense that I struggle to control my power. But can I really do this? Everyone else will have such a head start. Do I deserve to be a hero?"

Grandma puts her hand on my head and pats me gently. "Oh, you poor thing. I truly think you'll be a wonderful hero. You're filled with such pride and joy. I think you should take it. Join the academy."

"What about you two?" I ask. "Will you be okay without me?"

Grandpa looks at me, his eyes full of warmth. "We'll be fine. You just worry about being strong, alright? You better do us proud."

Grandma smiles softly, her voice filled with love. "I can't

wait to watch you bloom into such a wonderful hero, my sweet little baby."