Prologue: The Return

  From the silent void between galaxies, Asmodeus emerged, his ethereal form blazing with the brilliance of a thousand suns. As a Sol God, he had been granted the chance by the Greater Will to craft a solar system of his own, to preside and nurture, creating a representative race in his image. Minor deities by celestial standards, Sol Gods were bound to their creations. Their potential to rise among the divine hierarchy rested solely on the worthiness of their chosen race. Twice before had Asmodeus crafted and guided a race, twice they had failed, and now he faced the weight of his third and final chance.

  An unsettling premonition had gnawed at his divine heart as he traversed the endless cosmos, sowing the seeds of existence on behalf of the Greater Will. As he drew near to his system, that premonition crystallized into a harsh reality.

  The solar system, once harmonious and vibrant with ether, now felt disturbingly silent, discordant. Earth's glow, the brightest jewel of his creation, had dimmed to a shadowy husk. Ether no longer flowed freely, bound instead by unnatural seals that drained the planet of vitality. His celestial vision pierced Earth's murky atmosphere, revealing the catastrophic betrayal of his design. Humanity, his representative race intended to carry his name and influence across the universe, now worshipped false gods—cold machines and hollow idols of technological delusion. Their souls dimmed. Their potential squandered. The virtues of strength, honour, and unity forgotten.

  “Who dares corrupt my creation?” His voice echoed across the ether, resonating with the fury of a star collapsing. His wrath sent shockwaves rippling through reality itself—divine anger fueled by bitter disappointment and betrayal.

  With desperation, Asmodeus reached through the tapestry of time, drawing upon the ancient power of ether to uncover the moment humanity had fallen. Yet his vision met an impenetrable barrier—a deliberate, powerful interference from another Sol God. Such interference was betrayal—one that threatened Asmodeus’s very existence.

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  “Treachery,” he seethed, his divine form blazing with incandescent fury, illuminating the darkness of space around him.

  He summoned his angels, beings forged from his divine essence, each radiant with celestial purpose, each named for the planets they governed within his solar system. They materialized instantly, awaiting command, yet a single, conspicuous absence pierced through him like a blade.

  “Where is Terra?” his voice trembled with barely controlled anger and deep-seated worry.

  Neptune stepped forward, cautious yet resolute, her golden eyes filled with unease. “She is missing, my Lord. Despite our searches across mortal and celestial planes, she cannot be found.”

  Asmodeus felt a profound pang of dread entwined with sorrow. Terra had been entrusted explicitly with the guardianship of Earth and humanity. Her absence signified something gravely wrong—perhaps even malicious.

  This was the final cycle. His last opportunity to elevate humanity to the level required by the Greater Will. Failure would not merely be disappointing—it would extinguish his divine essence, stall his power, and cause the solar system he had carefully crafted to fade into oblivion.

  His resolve hardened. Humanity would be tested one last time.

  “Destroy the seals,” he commanded with steely determination. “Return the ether to its rightful flow. Humanity shall witness my vision; let them rediscover their lost virtues or face annihilation by their own inadequacy.”

  The angels bowed in silent unity, their forms dissolving into trails of celestial brilliance as they moved swiftly to obey his command.

  Alone amidst the silent cosmos, Asmodeus watched the retreating glow of his angels, contemplating the heavy burden of creation and the shadow of treachery that loomed over his divine purpose. He had crafted stars. But he could not shape faith.

  “Let this be humanity's final reckoning,” he whispered into the void. “Their worthiness will determine not only their fate but my own.”