Before stars were born, before space stretched its breath and time learned to walk, there was only the Void. From that infinite silence, a mysterious being—ancient beyond comprehension—breathed existence into three.
They were the ÆTORƎO, Primordials unlike any creation, forged not from matter but from concepts.
Bangador, the Titan of Force, whose every step forged shockwaves of creation.
Dextor, the Mind of Order, whose thoughts birthed symmetry, balance, and structure.
Ozgath, the Whispering Abyss, embodiment of Chaos, whose laughter unraveled the seams of reality.
Though bound by origin, they were never meant to coexist.
Bangador's urge was to create endlessly, to explode the Void with galaxies and stars.
Dextor sought to shape what was made — to lay the laws, the equations, the forms.
But Ozgath desired neither — he wished to consume, to destabilize, to return all to stillness through disorder.
Conflict was inevitable.
In a place beyond stars and time, the three collided.
Bangador hurled waves of pure force, birthing stars just to weaponize them.
Dextor formed shields of fractal logic, shaping laws of physics to bend attacks.
Ozgath unraveled dimensions, twisting time, folding light, sowing impossible chaos.
The clash shattered the primordial silence, and the Void screamed.
But in their battle, a rupture occurred — not of space, but of essence.
Their powers intertwined, not in domination, but in fusion.
From the collision of will, power, and paradox emerged the impossible — a radiant cosmic egg, pulsing with the DNA of creation, order, and chaos.
The Primordials halted.
They had not destroyed each other.
They had birthed something new.
Before they could react, the egg vanished, cast across the dimensions — fleeing from its makers, seeking a vessel, a home.
Its journey had begun.
A journey that would end... with Nel.