Chapter Text
From the dawn of the world, when time hadn’t learned to count itself and the names of the things hadn’t been pronounced yet, there was a being that the old voices named The Wise Becker. He wasn’t born of a womb nor was he forged for a human hand; he was born, the myth said, from the universe itself, when the first star was born.
His power was unfathomable. A simple thought from him could warp reality. Where his laugh echoed, the earth bloomed with countless flowers, when the wrath clouded his spirit, the sky turned grey and the thunder roared, and if the sorrow filled his being, the rain fell on the word like a cry.
The men of that time were still young and fearful, they prayed and begged to him as if he were a God. When the hunger withered their fields, they pleaded for rain that would bring life back to the land. When the earth roared beneath their feet, they begged for peace to return. And when the colossal beasts that reigned the forest and the shadows attacked them, they prayed for shelter, trembling over their own frailness.
He was moved for an infinite compassion as vast as the sky itself, The Wise Becker decided to create something for his beloved humans, He made a series of grimores, not made from simple paper, they were made from essence and will, they were designed to help humanity, they were made to teach the mortals how to live with the world that surrounded them.
The Wise realized a terrible truth of the humans, their bodies were as fragile as dry branches, dying of simple and invisible fevers and weak against the inclement weather. Their hands dreamed of building eternal monuments in honor of their beloved God and Savior, but their flesh wasn’t made for such dreams, And with infinite patience he created the Grimoire of the Body, identified with an Amber, the book gave the humans the strength to heal, withstand and transform their bodies.
But their bodies weren’t the only thing that could be shattered, their spirits could also be broken, their deepest wound did not live on their flesh but in their souls themselves. Men rose up against one another over worthless treasures, and the pain of loss tore at their spirits like cruel winds. And that’s how the Grimoire of the Soul was born, protected by an Amethyst, it would allow people to understand the others, join their hearts and listen to the echo of those who had left.
And one by one the great books of the universe were born.
The Grimoire of Nature, sealed with an Onix, was written to teach mortals how to communicate with the earth. It would regulate the cycles of the rains, heal barren lands, and ensure that the harvests would feed the people without fear of famine.
The Book of Time, shining with a Turquoise, was conceived to tame the chaos of the future. Within its pages lay the secret of the ages, the warning of disasters to come, and the memory of past tragedies, so that they might never be repeated.
The Book of Death, sealed with a Ruby, was not created as a punishment, but as the quietest of mercies. It granted rest to weary flesh and freed souls from unbearable suffering, allowing all that was to once again become part of the eternal cycle.
The Book of Life, simmering with the light of an Emerald, burned like a perpetual flame, a symbol of rebirth and change. Within it resided the force that drives what is lost to come back into existence, reminding every creature of the sacred gift of breathing beneath the sunlight.
But not even a being of infinite power could stand the overwhelming loneliness.
And so, in the immensity of his existence, The Wise Becker realized a terrible truth that no miracle could erase, although men adored him, no one could fill the void that existed within his eternal essence.
So in an act that would change the course of the universe itself, he opened his book… and decided to create a new form of life,
He named them the HollowHeads.
And so, guided by a longing that not even power could satisfy, the Primordial Sage decided to shape new beings. He did not create them in his own image, for his essence was too vast and incomprehensible; instead, he fashioned them in the likeness of the humans he had come to cherish so deeply. He wished that, when his voice faded into the recesses of time, his children might walk among mortals, live alongside them, and be part of their fleeting yet beautiful destiny.
But creation is no simple task, not even for one who governs reality.
In his first attempt, the being that emerged from his hands was far from what he had imagined. It lacked the qualities that made humans so extraordinary in their fragility. Its form was marred by flaws, its proportions were discordant, and its essence was incomplete. The Sage, tireless, tried to correct it: he shaped its flesh, rebuilt what his eyes deemed imperfect, and sought harmony where there was only dissonance. But he realized, with regret, that this creation was irreparably broken. And so, with a sigh that shook the earth, he abandoned it to its fate.
He refused to give up.
On his second attempt, he corrected every mistake from the first. The new being was, to all appearances, perfect: its form was flawless, its presence majestic. Yet within it dwelled a dark void. It lacked the ability to understand humans, and in its place burned an uncontrollable, savage, and all-consuming rage. Fearing what that fury might unleash upon the world, the Sage removed it from the sight of mortals and confined it to a place where its echo could not reach them.
Even so, it persisted.
The third being was created with the same perfection of form as the second, but this time the Sage granted it a priceless gift: empathy. It could feel the pain of others as if it were its own, understand their sorrows and joys. For a moment, the Sage believed he had found the companion who would fill his eternity. But as he looked beyond its light, he discovered shadows hidden in its heart: dark corners where doubts, conflicts, and emotions dwelled—emotions that could distort even the noblest of intentions.
And the Sage, though pained, realized that he had not yet achieved his purpose.
So, drawing upon all his knowledge, power, and longing, he brought about his final creation.
The fourth being was born with the perfection of its predecessors, but also with a pure heart, free from the shadows that had doomed the others. Within it burned an incandescent light, capable of illuminating even the darkest depths of the world. Its presence inspired neither fear nor confusion, but peace.
This being would be known as The Angel.
And for the first time since the beginning of time, the Primordial Sage beheld his work… and felt that the void within him was finally beginning to fill.
—Boring— Said a boy with red hair and small scars on his cheeks that looked like small whiskers. He was sitting in a log around a small campfire.
—Yellow I don’t mean to be mean, but you already have told this story like fifty times in the last month, don’t you know any other myths or fairy tales?— He had green curly hair, he was raising an eyebrow, a playful smirk appeared on his face —What if I play a song instead.
But the boy was cut off by a hit in the back of his head. The culprit, a girl holding a sausage in a stick —Yes, treat us to your wonderful music. Why don't you play “My Ego Is Very, Very Big” or my favorite, “I'm a jerk”? Now let Yellow finish his story.
—Uhhh, Blue got mad with you Green! — The boy received a punch in his arm by Green, his face a bit flushed with anger for the call back.
—Shut up Red, this is big boys talk — Green shouted —Besides I already know how the story ends
But the peace that the Sage believed he had attained was not meant to last.
The first three sons had not been forgotten, nor had the pain that gave rise to them. Each, marked by his imperfection, carried within his very being a wound impossible to heal: the rejection of his creator. And in that wound, as the ages passed, something darker than pain took root… resentment.
And so, guided by their own suffering, the three found one another in the shadows of the world. There, where the Angel’s light could not reach, they shared their sorrow and recognized in it a common origin. They understood then that they were not isolated mistakes, but incomplete fragments of a will that had abandoned them.
And from that understanding, their purpose was born.
United by resentment and the longing to reclaim their place in creation, they raised their voices against the Sage. Not as children seeking comfort, but as forces demanding justice. The world trembled at the onset of their rebellion, for even reality remembered that those entities, though imperfect, had been shaped by divine hands.
The confrontation that followed was not a battle like those known to mortals. It was a clash of wills capable of tearing apart the very foundations of existence. The heavens fractured, time became uncertain, and the earth itself bowed before the magnitude of the conflict.
Then, just as everything seemed destined to collapse, a white light—brighter than creation itself—enveloped the entire world.
There was absolute silence.
A moment suspended outside of time.
And when the light faded…
The Wise Becker had vanished.
The grimoires, bearers of order, no longer existed.
And the Sage’s children—all of them—had vanished from reality, as if they had never been.
—See, you have told that story so many times that I already know it by heart— Green complained.
—Next time let Green tell the story, he puts on more emotion— Red chimed in.
—Don’t mind them Yellow, they're dumb by nature— She bit the sausage, avoiding the eyes of the tallest kid —But yeah Green puts on more emotion.
The glasses on Yellow’s face reflected the fire, hiding the look in his eyes, he spoke with a calm, terrifying tone.
—The void
The rest of the kids looked up, suddenly drawn by the new tale his friend was about to tell.
—There was a seventh Grimoire, The Grimoire of the Void.
A book never meant to be given to humanity, not even in the days where The Wise Becker used to walk among mankind. It was said that their mere presence was an offense to the natural order, and that no mortal could ever lay their eyes on it without being erased from existence as if they had never existed.
Unlike the other books, where aspects of equilibrium lived, this book did not control life, nor death. In its pages did not lay rules… but the essence of everything that was.
The origin.
The Void.
The existence in its purest form.
It was said that this book was not created but discovered… maybe it was pulled out from the tread of the universe. On it resided a power so immense that not even the Wise Becker dared to use it freely.
For whoever managed to possess it, understand it… and survive its truth would not only master reality.
They would become it.
They would become a god.
—Well that’s what the people in my hometown used to say— Yellow fixed his glasses with a small shrug, as if he hadn’t just finished explaining something unsettling.
A brief silence followed.
Green let out a short scoff, crossing his arms —You’re telling me there’s a book that just… deletes you for looking at it? Sounds a bit convenient to me, now no one can prove your story is real if all witnesses were erased from reality.
—It’s not about proff— Yellow replied calmly —It's about consequences.
—Yeah, well consequences usually leave something behind— Green muttered.
Blue, who had been quietly eating her sausage until now, tilted her head slightly, her gaze fixing on the fire —What if that’s the point?
The others look at her.
—It’s a warning, so humans wouldn’t go risking their lives for a thing that in the end was going to kill them anyways— She paused, her voice softening a bit —How many people did you see leaving their hometown looking for the grimoires that never came back?
Red shifted where he stood, uneasy —That’s… not comforting.
—It’s not supposed to be— Yellow said.
Green rolled his eyes —Alright, Philosopher, let’s say this thing is real. Where is it?
Yellow hesitated for the first time.
—No one knows.
—Super convenient— Green smirked.
—Or hidden for a reason, if the thing turns you into a God, why would you leave a map to find it?— Blue added.
—Well excuse me for questioning a story Yellow might have just made at the moment— Green threw his arms up.
—Pardon me? You think I made this up?— Yellow jumped from his place and walked to Green ready to throw punches.
—It’s not my fault if it sounds stupid.
Red cut the tension with a simple question —Even if this “Wise Becker” guy didn’t use it… then why would anyone else try?
—Power, — Yellow said —It’s not like people fear it
He paused for a second.
—They fear not having it.
The wind stirred faintly around them, carrying an odd stillness with it.
Green clicked his tongue —Still sounds like a fairytale to me.
Blue didn’t respond. Her eyes had drifted somewhere far beyond them, past the mountains, as if trying to find something that wasn’t there.
—...What if it’s not?— She whispered.
Red looked at her —Blue?
She blinked, snapping back to reality —Nothing I just… thought of something.
A silence fell over them, heavy with fear.
And for a flying second…
It felt like something else had been listening.
They began to laugh after all, it was just a fairytale.
Right?