In the farthest reaches, where the edge of the sky met the abyss, a hidden gate rose from shifting sands, as though a fragment of another realm had been planted within the desert of time. Shao, awakening from a vision that had shaken his very being, stood at the threshold of this barren land, his gaze locked onto the ancient gate that had appeared in his dream—the same gate he had seen etched into the ruins of _Orysol_ long ago.
As he moved forward slowly, the air grew heavy. With every step, he was met by a faint whisper—voices not in any human tongue, but the echoes of lost souls, the cries of fallen warriors, and the lament of deities stripped of their glory.
_"Enter… stranger who carries both curse and light…"_
The phrase resonated within his mind. It was no mere calling—it was a command, issued by something beyond human comprehension. When he reached the gate's threshold, it did not open. Instead, a wave of foreign memories crashed upon him.
He saw fragmented visions:
— A familiar-faced knight driving a blade into his own friend beneath a crimson moon…
— A fallen god begging for mercy before a weeping child…
— The faces of his enemies, one by one, grinning cryptically, as if they had foreseen his fate long ago.
Amidst the chaos, a different voice emerged—soft, melodic, as if woven into a forgotten song:
_"Shao… the world you know… is merely a shadow of the truth."_
His breath froze.
Who was she? How did she know his name? And why did he feel that this presence… this energy… was part of him?
As he struggled for understanding, the gate finally opened—not to a place, but to a void of stars. A force stirred within him, a call that carried both danger… and glory.
He turned, and there stood _Astir_, that enigmatic warrior, as elusive as an eclipsed sun. In a hushed voice, Astir spoke:
— _"If you enter now, you will not return the same… Those who step into the depths of the 'Origin Realm' never emerge without losing a piece of themselves."_
Shao's response was resolute:
— _"I began this journey the moment I first opened my eyes to blood and ashes… There is no turning back."_
Astir smiled faintly, then handed him a broken sword—engraved with a symbol Shao recognized… the crest of the _Hymn Clan_. But cracks ran through it, as if history itself had rejected it.
Astir said:
— _"This sword… is the key to forgetting. You may mend it—or cast it into the abyss."_
Shao grasped the blade, feeling its pulse within his hand—as though something alive groaned inside, screaming… yearning for release.
Then, he stepped forward.
He entered the gate.
For the first time, there was no gravity, no ground, no sky. Only his body, stripped from time, floating within a tapestry of galaxies. Shapes of light gathered, speaking in a language beyond words.
Then, a bizarre vision unfolded:
_"A young child with white hair, crying in the arms of a godlike being… then the child transforms into a demon, setting the universe aflame with his eyes."_
A luminous entity whispered:
_"Are you him… or are you his opposition?"_
Shao did not understand the question.
Then, everything shifted abruptly.
He plummeted onto a jagged, unfamiliar terrain. The sky was red, mountains hung upside down, and disembodied voices wailed without form.
He had entered the _Origin Realm_ —the world before creation, where souls are forged and chains are shattered.
His inner voice echoed:
The true game has begun.