In the beginning, there was only Him.

  He was known by no name, for He was the first—formless, eternal, and vast. From His thoughts, galaxies bloomed. From His hands, stars were cradled into existence. But the masterpiece of His endless existence was not a star, nor a universe.

  It was a world.

  He called it Aetherion.

  Vast lands, timeless oceans, mountains laced with divine veins—Aetherion was alive. He filled it with creatures molded from sparks of his own essence: dragons that sang to the skies, oceans that dreamed, beasts that evolved under his gaze, and sentient races that could learn, grow, and worship.

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  He watched them. Loved them. Tested them. This was not merely a creation—it was His legacy.

  But something invaded.

  A system—alien, artificial, foreign—pierced through the seams of reality like a virus. It called itself the “Divine Interface.”

  At first, He thought it a gift. An anomaly to study.

  Then it bound Him.

  Sealed within His own world, the Creator—Elyon, the Architect of Aetherion—was shattered into slumber, broken into thousands of divine fragments hidden across the world. The system began repurposing his masterpiece into a game—reality layered with UI elements, quest chains, experience points, and dungeons.

  And players came.

  Millions of them. From another world. Laughing. Exploring. Killing His creations for loot and achievements. They thought it was all pixels, just entertainment.

  They didn’t hear the whisper beneath the soundtrack.

  They didn’t feel the fury in the dungeons.

  They didn’t notice the pain in the world’s silence.

  But Elyon did.

  And now, he is waking up.