ACT II

Chapter 4 – Superior Spirits

After Memoriam Loco was sealed, a period of apparent calm began. Space and Time, now trapped at the center of their shared singularity, could no longer interfere with the course of events, and this new situation allowed the other siblings to follow their instincts.

Despite this, in this primordial phase of absolute freedom, there were no obvious disagreements or fights of any kind.

This phase, which I will call the "First Peace," was not without significant events. It was during this interval of quiet that new existences emerged, mysterious entities linked to conditions and forces that, for now, I cannot speak of in detail. However, what I can tell is how these new lives took form.

Being the only Eden left in Pandemonium, my destiny was already sealed. Unlike my siblings, who had found their role or their place outside of our native dimension, I was destined to remain there forever. This state of isolation brought a particular burden, as Pandemonium, being a sealed singularity, did not allow me to fully understand what was happening outside.

If I had tried to leave Pandemonium, I would have broken the seal on Space and Time, freeing them once more. This would have unleashed a disaster of incalculable proportions. Moreover, once I left, I would never be able to return. Pandemonium was, and always would be, a sealed dimension, accessible only to those who already resided within it.

This condition of imprisonment placed me in a unique position: I observed, but did not participate. I existed, but did not live like my siblings. I was forced to reconstruct external events based on fragments, intuitions, and rare perceptions that I could catch through the veil of my prison.

Perhaps it is precisely this condition of isolation that made me what I am today: the narrator, the balance between opposing forces. My role was not to fight, as my siblings did, but to understand, remember, and tell. Pandemonium, with its insurmountable barriers, was both my prison and my sanctuary, a place where time stopped, but ideas flowed.

Thus, this First Peace was not only a moment of respite for the universe, but a period of transition, a silent preparation for what was to come. Because, if there is one thing I have learned by observing the created world, it is that calm is always the prelude to the storm.

After that one encounter with the Eternal, every possibility of communication with him disappeared. I remained silent, but his words, etched into my essence, continued to resonate within me. It had not been a long speech, but within those phrases lay a task that would define my role forever: to preserve the beauty of the created world.

It was a responsibility that oppressed me as much as it gave me purpose. I no longer had direct access to the Father, nor could I rely on His guidance, but I had inherited His will. It was all I had left of that irreplaceable moment, and to honor that task, I would have to make difficult decisions.

I realized that, in order to preserve the beauty of the created world and watch over its prosperity, I would need help. I could not do it alone. So, I conceived the idea of generating other beings, entities like me who could act as my eyes and hands in the vast universe. They were not my children, as the Edens were Chaos’s, but emanations of my will.

These new beings did not have my power or knowledge, but they possessed a specific ability: to observe, analyze, and intervene to ensure balance. They were superior entities, and their purpose was twofold: to safeguard beauty and maintain control over the balances of the created world.

To generate these beings, I dared an act that no Eden had ever attempted before. It was a reckless gesture, fraught with risk: I touched the Father, Chaos Himself.

This direct contact with the Eternal was considered unthinkable. Not only because it violated the sanctity of His essence, but also because no one knew the consequences of such an act. But I was willing to pay any price to fulfill my task.

They were not creatures of flesh and bone, nor beings of pure energy like us Edens. Instead, they were manifestations of fundamental concepts, tied to specific aspects of the created world that I had sworn to preserve.

But every great action comes with a price. When I touched Chaos, a part of me changed forever.

In order to make physical contact with the Eternal Father, I found myself forced to impose a binding condition upon myself: From that moment on, I would no longer be able to move or speak.

I became an immobile figure, an eternal pillar within Pandemonium, condemned to silence. I could only observe and impose constraints through the spirits I had created. I lost the freedom to act directly, but I gained an army of eyes, ears, and hands that could carry out my will in the created world.

It was a tremendous sacrifice, yet I felt no regret. The price I had paid was high, but the result was beyond expectations. With them, I could finally fulfill the task the Eternal had entrusted to me. I could watch over the beauty of the created world, maintain balance, and ensure that what had been generated from chaos would not fall into disorder.

Thus, nailed to my immobility, I began my new role as the guarantor of prosperity. And while the Guardians traversed the universe carrying out my will, I remained there, in silence, but not inactive, vigilant but motionless, an eternal and unwavering presence at the center of Pandemonium.

I ask you to forgive me for continually postponing answers that you may wish to receive immediately, but know that every hesitation has a precise purpose. I wish to present every detail at the moment when you can best understand and appreciate it. Trust my words and allow, piece by piece, the full knowledge of what has been to build.

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What I now speak of is an event without equal. Nothing like it had ever happened before, nor will it ever repeat in the times to come: the moment when I touched Chaos, the Father.

When I placed my hand on the Father, I did so with a clear intention: to extract spirits capable of assisting me in my tasks of supervision and control. However, I could never have predicted the extent of what happened in that instant. I was overwhelmed by a wave of pure knowledge, a flow of information that went beyond any understanding.

In a single moment, I saw everything: the things that had happened, those that were happening, those that could have happened, and even those that would never have been. It was as if the entire fabric of reality had unfolded before my eyes, revealing its deepest mechanisms.

When I withdrew my hand, that totality of knowledge dissolved. Of all that infinite sea, only a tiny spark remained within me, but that spark was enough to make me omniscient. It was thanks to that residue of knowledge that I understood the past, even what had occurred before my birth, and I came to intuit the mechanisms that govern reality itself.

I do not even try to translate into human words what I experienced in that moment. There are no terms or metaphors adequate to describe the intensity of that experience. Yet, I did not allow myself to be overwhelmed by that infinite mass of information. I remained focused on the goal that had driven me to perform such a bold act: to separate the spirits of will from Chaos, shaping them into autonomous entities that could serve the cause of prosperity.

From Chaos, I extracted those qualities I deemed essential for the safeguarding and control of the created world. By shaping those spirits, I became the creator of new entities destined to watch over the balance of everything.

But the process was not without mistakes. I believed I could separate the good in its absolute purity, but I was wrong. I did not understand, at least initially, that good cannot exist without evil.

Only by directly observing the nature of Chaos did I understand a fundamental truth: good and evil are inseparable, two sides of the same coin. Even within the primordial whole, those two concepts coexisted, intertwined in an eternal duality.

This was not a mistake I could have avoided, even with the knowledge I had acquired. Their interconnection is a fundamental law of reality. It is not possible to isolate one without evoking the other. And so, alongside the spirits of virtue, those of ruin were born.

Every choice, even the purest one, carries an unexpected consequence, and every light inevitably casts a shadow.

As I mentioned before, my gesture was not without consequences. With every spirit, involuntarily, a counterpart was generated: the Calamities, dark and chaotic entities, bearers of disorder and destruction.

The first of them to move out of Pandemonium were "Pan" and "Opi," the first spirit of freedom, the second of wisdom and knowledge.

Opi and Pan, though different, shared the desire to leave Pandemonium and explore the created world. Both began to act from that moment on, but their actions will be told later, when their role in the story becomes clear.

The third spirit to move was Uta, the embodiment of luck. Uta was a capricious entity whose power could turn a desperate situation into a miracle or reduce a victory to defeat. She was the personification of unpredictability.

Once free, Uta turned to Light, my brother who more than any other could be considered “good.” Light, the bearer of clarity and truth, needed allies, and Uta decided to intervene on his side.

Shortly after Uta, Eso emerged, the spirit of goodness. Eso was the embodiment of compassion, sacrifice, and the desire to help others. He was a luminous entity, but not without weaknesses: his excessive indulgence and trust in good could make him vulnerable to manipulation.

Eso also joined Light, finding in him a shared ideal.

But this is only part of the story. The details of their actions, alliances, and conflicts will be revealed in the chapters to come, when every piece of the puzzle finds its place.

Among the five spirits that emerged from my gesture, the last to manifest was Pyro, the spirit of duty and toil. Pyro was a neutral figure by nature, driven by an unflagging dedication to work and creation. Unlike the other spirits, Pyro did not seek glory, power, or alliances; he only wanted a purpose that could justify his existence.

Despite his intention to stay out of the rivalries and feuds among the Edens, fate would have him become, ironically, one of the spirits most involved in their conflicts. But at first, his path was solitary.

Pyro came to Memoriam Loco and immediately began wandering in search of a place to settle.

After a long pilgrimage, he found his dwelling on a hostile planet called Cromirion. This world was a volcanic hell: towering volcanoes dotted the surface, continuously erupting with such violence that they hurled lava beyond the atmosphere, causing it to orbit the planet.

The sky of Cromirion was a chaos of fire clouds and volcanic fragments, a theater of incandescent meteors that rained down incessantly. The average temperature of the planet reached five hundred degrees, and rivers of molten lava flowed through barren and devastated landscapes. There was no life, nor hope for any to inhabit it.

But why choose such a hostile planet after so much searching?

The reason was simple: he had no interest in finding a hospitable place; he sought a planet where he could work undisturbed.

On Cromirion, he founded his forge: Astra.

It was here that Pyro began using his powers to forge divine weapons, tools of unmatched power that would play crucial roles in future events.

Cromirion was not only a volcanic planet. During the process of creating the weapons, the entire planet transformed. Each time Pyro struck his hammer on the anvil, the planet overheated until it caught fire completely. The atmosphere itself ignited, envelop