YOTON: A Cosmic Revelation
The weight of eternity pressed down on me as I walked through the endless expanse of the planet, searching for something—anything—that could give me answers. Days turned into months, months into years, and still, I found nothing. The planet was vast, filled with secrets, and yet, the one thing I needed—a piece of the divine, a sign of the gods—was nowhere to be found. It was as if the planet itself was laughing at me, hiding the truth behind layers of time and lies.
I had come to Earth, a small planet in the grand scheme of things, hoping to find clues. But the more I searched, the more my mind began to break. Everything I had ever known, everything I had been taught, was being questioned. The stories of creation, the tales of how the verses were formed, the order of beings who ruled existence—all of it seemed wrong.
The ancient ones, the ones who claimed to have built reality, said they had created all the verses except one—the Cronoverse. That one, they said, was made by the Creator alone, a place beyond understanding, untouched by any other hands. But as I walked through the ruins of lost civilizations, as I read the old writings carved into the bones of the Earth, I realized something terrible.
The universe was much older than we had been told. The stories passed down through generations, the sacred words of my people, were not just wrong—they might have been lies.
They told us that after the Creator, we were the most powerful beings in existence. But standing under the cold, uncaring stars, I could no longer believe that. Earth, with its short-lived creatures and forgotten histories, held secrets that shattered everything I thought I knew. Its myths, its legends, the whispers of its past—they all pointed to something bigger, something hidden.
And then there was Hell.
I had fought creatures from Hell. I had sealed away entire races within its depths. But I had never been inside. I had never learned where it came from, what it truly was. Hell was a mystery, a shadow at the edge of my knowledge. But here, on this tiny planet, I was starting to see the truth.
Earth was a place of revelation. Its stories spoke of worlds beyond ours, of gods and demons, of cycles of destruction and rebirth. The more I learned, the more I understood—we were not the masters of creation. We were just pieces in a game much older, much larger than we had ever imagined.
And so my journey changed. It was no longer just about finding a lost god. It was about uncovering the hidden truths of existence itself. If the stories about Hell, about creation, about our own power were lies… what else had they lied to us about?
The universe was speaking to me, whispering its secrets. And I would listen, no matter what it cost.
The Eternal Conflict: The Birth of the Cronoverse
Before time began, before anything existed, there was the Creator—a being born from nothingness itself. But He was not alone. From the endless dark, another force emerged—a thing of pure darkness, older than thought, stronger than fear. Its name has been forgotten, but its presence was real, a shadow wrapped around the beginning of all things.
Their war was inevitable.
For ages beyond counting, the Creator and the Dark Being fought. Their battle shaped the universe—stars were born and destroyed in their wake, dimensions cracked under their power. But neither could win. They were too evenly matched, their strength too great. And so, in the quiet between their endless war, they made a deal—not for peace, but for a greater fight.
They would create champions.
Servants of light and shadow, beings made from their own essence, would carry on the war. The winners would decide the fate of all existence. The throne of the Cronoverse—the rule over every world, every time, every piece of reality—would belong to the last one standing. And so, the first war of the gods began.
But there was another mystery, hidden beneath the echoes of creation. The Rulers—the ones who shaped the verses, who built the foundations of reality—did not work alone. Something helped them. A force, a presence, a race beyond understanding. Who were they? What power did they have that even the architects of existence needed their help? The answers were gone, erased, or maybe just hidden.
With these truths in my mind, I searched for more.
Why had the Rulers been killed in such numbers? Why had our kind—once the rulers of the cosmos—fallen so completely, while others survived? What had we done to anger the Creator or the Dark Being? Was it punishment? A cleansing? Or something worse?
I searched Earth, digging through ruins, reading ancient texts, listening to the whispers of the past. But the planet kept its secrets. Its histories spoke of kings and wars, of miracles and disasters, but nothing about the slaughter of the gods. Nothing about the end of my people.
The answers were not here.
And so my journey continues—beyond the stars, beyond the edges of known creation. The truth is out there, waiting in the darkness between worlds. And I will find it.
Or die trying.