Prologue

Battling the realm of portals and gateways

Amidst the Nether Dimension's cloudy night sky, two full moons gleamed, casting an ethereal glow upon the Kantonian land, located five hundred light-years from Earth one. Brimming with an advanced civilization, the Kantonians inhabited this realm of astonishing beauty. Cascading in a cascade of chromatic hues, their culture revolved around a stringent caste system, firmly rooted in their ancestral heritage. Descending from noble bloodlines, individuals resided exclusively within their respective domains, segregated by the immutable decree of their birthright. Emanating authority, an ancient monarchy reigned supreme, dictating the social fabric of this extraordinary realm.

From the highest echelons of society toiling at the summit of power, the wealthy only sought matrimonial alliances within their opulent circles. Governed by the principles of affluence and purity, the lower and middle classes toiled ceaselessly, harbouring a glimmer of hope to alter their standing. However, their aspirations gradually withered away, as their blood underwent stringent scrutiny, a test of their lineage's immaculacy. Impurities, like poison in their veins, threatened their dreams of upward mobility, leaving them perpetually trapped within their station.

Jubilant celebration awaited a select few families every fifty years, those who had achieved unparalleled wealth and contributed to the empire's prosperity. Known as the pinnacle of privilege, these fortunate few underwent a transformative purification cycle, cleansing their ancestral ties from the taint of mediocrity. Luxuriating in a regimen of dietary indulgence, they nourished their bodies with the elixir of Aurum gold, a symphony of essential vitamins and minerals. Meticulously curated, this regal feast became the key to their ascension, their blood gradually purging itself of impurities.

Nurturing their coveted purity over twenty-five years, their blood once again stood the test of scrutiny. Only upon satisfying the exacting standards of the monarch system would they gain admittance into the elite ranks, permitted to intermarry with the exalted bloodlines. Professing to safeguard the empire's sanctity, these unions promised a future generation of pristine heritage, ensuring the perpetuation of their noble legacy.

Quaintly reminiscent of Earth-One, the Kantonian atmosphere mirrored the familiar skies, albeit harbouring a unique defiance of gravity and scientific comprehension. Replete with wonders that surpassed human imagination, they soared through the heavens, surpassing the limitations of mere mortal flight. The Kantonians embraced the art of translocation, utilizing intricate portals for their extensive travels. Unveiling the tapestry of the cosmos, they embarked on interstellar odysseys, their starships ferrying them to distant galaxies. Venturesome beings of extraordinary power transcended the bounds of space, effortlessly traversing unfathomable distances with a mere thought, as if wielding the cosmos at their fingertips.

Within the annals of ancient history, Kanton had borne the name of Baryelan, its identity enshrouded in the mists of time. Xerophytes of wisdom and knowledge, the Kantonians ventured forth, unravelling the enigmas of the universe. Yielding to the relentless march of progress, they shed their antiquated moniker, embracing a new era of enlightenment. Zealous and forward-thinking, they embraced a revised caste system, meticulously constructed to reflect their evolved understanding of society.

Surrounded by the realm of an advanced civilization, technology flourished, bringing forth a future where the once-revered royal bloodlines relinquished their hold on power. Ascending to prominence, a new governing system emerged—theocratic in nature—where the nation's leadership rested upon the shoulders of a chosen Bishop. Designated by the populace, the Bishop hailed from the esteemed lineage of the Levites, a priesthood bloodline.

Entrenched in their divine calling, the Levites, also known as Leviathans, were immortals set apart from the common masses since birth. Nurtured within the sanctity of the church, their lives were devoted to the service of God. For a millennium, they dutifully served the Almighty, after which they had the option to join the army or ascend the rungs of the social hierarchy ladder. However, one rule remained unbroken—a sacred vow, binding them to their unwavering path. Every aspect of society sought their blessings, from the sustenance consumed to the tools employed, as they believed that this connection to the divine granted them unparalleled supremacy and ensured victory in battle.

Forged in the annals of ancient history, the planet had once been governed by a monarch system, with emperors, kings, queens, princesses, and princes reigning over their dominions. However, a rebellion shattered this monarchical order, leading to the demise of the Aurum royal bloodline. Queen Lahti and her son, Prince Caleb, were relentlessly hunted down and killed due to their unique blood, rumoured to transmute into gold when shed. It was whispered that consuming their blood bestowed powers greater than those of God.

Hidden from the king and her maidservants, Queen Lahti had secretly given birth to a second son, entrusting his upbringing to her most loyal and trusted bodyguard, Peter Larkin. The infant was raised within the honourable Larkin bloodline, a lineage renowned for their unwavering loyalty and unyielding prowess as formidable warriors. In the wake of the rebellion, they now pledged their allegiance to the theocratic rule.

As the sands of time trickled away, the Kantonians became stratified into six distinct societal types. The Bishops and religious leaders held sway, while generals commanded their formidable armies. The upper class presided over matters of affluence, while the middle class played a vital role in cultivating and sharing sustenance, ensuring the well-being of all, save for the Mondolians.

Unrivalled in their pursuit of technological advancements, the upper class laboured to broaden their horizons, reaching out to distant realms. The fruits of their endeavours cascaded downward, equipping each societal group with the latest innovations, thus easing the burdens of everyday life.

Within the ranks of the immortal soldiers stood the Army, divided into two factions—the Royals and the Imperials. The Royals, gifted individuals of exceptional prowess, were entrusted with the responsibility of safeguarding their way of life, acting as both enforcers and guardians of the laws dictated by the Bishop. The Imperials, on the other hand, journeyed to far-flung galaxies, conquering and sealing the gateways and portals exploited by malevolent forces. These conduits served as conduits of enslavement, ensnaring denizens of foreign worlds and dooming them to a fate of fallen souls. The Mondolian kingdom thrived, amassing hapless individuals who relinquished their freedom and individuality, transforming into mindless drones serving an army of fallen angels.

Amidst the grand tapestry of the universe, the generals orchestrated their strategic symphony, diligently assigning tasks to an array of soldiers. Beckoning them and their kin to dwell among the populace they safeguarded, they ensured firsthand experience and accurate intelligence, enabling autonomous completion or collaborative efforts within teams.

Capturing divine inspiration, the Bishop, conduit of God's word, disseminated guidance to the army's esteemed commanders and the people at large, directing their endeavours to vanquish the encroaching darkness that threatened their realm and beyond. Conscious of the dire consequences of failure, the Bishop emphasized the imperative to wield their powers judiciously, for the misuse of their gifts would spawn a legion of malevolent warriors, hell-bent on subjugating the multitudes across countless worlds and galaxies, transcending temporal boundaries.

Driven by their sacred mandate, the Bishop stood as the vanguard of hope, revitalizing the resolve of valiant soldiers. Spreading God's grace and mercy to distant lands, they rescued beleaguered realms from savage tyrants, sparing families and friendships from the ravages of corruption and annihilation.

Entwined with a harrowing tale, the Mondolians derived their name from the fallen immortal, the first to succumb to the clutches of damnation. Their nefarious deeds marked the demise of the royal bloodlines—or so they believed. Mondola, banished to the depths of Kanton's purgatory, found himself enslaved by the malevolent forces of the underworld. Seizing upon his latent potential, the devil elevated him, bestowing dominion over portals and gateways that linked to the very realms of hell. With relentless zeal, he undertook the sinister duty of spreading his tyranny far and wide.

For the Kantonians, existence entailed an unending struggle against Mondola, the prince of darkness, and his demonic legions. These maleficent spirits infiltrated every dimension, perpetrating chaos, terror, and death, a ceaseless plague that gnawed at the fabric of their existence.

Glimpsed as extensions of God's divine design, the immortals embodied the hands and feet of the Almighty. Standing tall at seven feet, their ethereal frames boasted a delicate yet impenetrable skin akin to silk-wrapped diamond. Immortals proved challenging to dispatch, though not impervious to demise. While they shared similarities with humans in terms of physical makeup, the royal bloodline possessed a singular trait—should their blood be spilled, it would flow as golden ichor from their veins. Mondola harboured insidious intentions, yearning to construct an army of immortals, seeking to capture any of this rare lineage, unconvinced that he had eradicated their kind.

Legend spoke of immortals as immune to corruption, their unwavering communion with God maintained through the guidance of their Bishop, warding off the insidious whispers of malevolence. Though immortals were perceived as impervious to Mondola's demons, there were those who ventured to straddle both sides, their duplicity unmasked, leading to banishment from the Nether Dimension, condemned to the realm none desired—Earth One.

Mythology wove tales of a fiery abyss nestled within the earth's core, where hell itself resided. An anthropomorphic visage emerged, a colossal figure bearing two hands, two feet, a belly, a neck, a head, eyes, and ears. They say that in hell, senses remain intact, the torment of unending flames licking at your essence, writhing worms burrowing into your very being. Endless thirst and insatiable cravings torment the damned, the relentless infliction of pain by demons that revel in their suffering, greeting their arrival and guiding them to eternal damnation. These ancestral chronicles beget fear, passed down through generations, warning progeny against the clutches of Mondola and his demonic hordes.

While skepticism casts doubt upon the veracity of heaven and hell, dismissing them as tales spun to manipulate and govern the masses, I can merely relay the whispers I have heard, praying that the truth eludes me. Permit me to introduce myself and recount the voyages embarked upon by my family throughout this vast galaxy. Yet, before I unveil my name, allow me to regale you with our ancestral odyssey.

In the realm of the Larkin warriors, victory was our birthright, etched into our very souls. The weight of our legacy manifested in the ornate coat of arms that adorned our armour, helmets, swords, and shields, glistening with the blessings of divinity. These sacred relics had been our lifeline, shielding us from the clutches of death in countless battles and immortal encounters that spanned millennia. It was our family's sacred duty to safeguard every dimension from the malevolent grip of Mondola and his infernal minions, closing the portals and gateways to the depths of hell.

As the years unfolded, we traversed from one dimension to another, our triumphs growing bolder, more resplendent than those of our brethren. Yet, with each victory, a shadow loomed, born from the envious hearts of our kin. Dark forces conspired against us, weaving a web of treachery that awaited its chance to ensnare us, to snuff out our glorious flame.

In the twilight of our final departure, my father's friend, the trusted Linos, beckoned us to a grand celebration, an amalgamation of triumph and farewell. A banquet fit for legends awaited us, tantalizing aromas of succulent meats, luscious fruits, and the sweet nectar of wines teased our senses. The air thrummed with live music, its intoxicating rhythm and the dance of swirling bodies suffusing our hearts with elation, even as the impending departure cast a bittersweet pall over the revelry.

Amidst laughter and camaraderie, I watched my older sister, Khalisa, a fearsome warrior in her own right, locked in a playful rivalry with her beloved Joren. Their graceful dance and joyous laughter echoed through the halls, a poignant reminder of the bonds we cherished, the moments we held dear. The night waned, hours slipping away in blissful oblivion, until the time came to bid farewell to the festivities and embark on our perilous journey home.

The goodbyes were heartfelt, hugs lingering a moment too long, for none could truly predict the uncertain paths that lay before us. The first light of dawn greeted our departure, but as we ventured closer to our abode, a shroud of ominous blackness tainted the skies. The air turned heavy, suffocating, tainted by the acrid stench of smoke that mingled with the ashes of our once pristine surroundings.

Shock and devastation gripped us as we beheld the charred remnants of our three-story home, a haunting silhouette amidst the swirling smoke. Panic seeped into our bones, and my mother's anguished scream pierced the air, carrying the desperate plea for our missing loved ones.

"Benara and Drako!" she cried, her voice laced with raw anguish, her frantic search for our youngest son and his faithful caretaker punctuated by the tremor of fear.

"Search the woods!" she commanded my older siblings, their urgency fueled by the desperate hope of finding a trace of our beloved missing ones amongst the scorched terrain.

Meanwhile, my father scoured the ruins, his hands trembling as he sought our cherished armour and weapons, the symbols of our resilience, for they could not be so easily annihilated. But his efforts proved in vain, his heart sinking with each fruitless search, for no sign of them emerged from the haunting pile of rubble that now desecrated our once-hallowed home.

The weight of the unknown bore down upon us, gnawing at our resolve. "Who could orchestrate such destruction? Who dares to snatch away our home, our son, our very means of defence?" my father's voice trembled with a mixture of anger and despair, his words echoing through the desolate wasteland that was once our sanctuary in the Neither Dimension.

Bitterness swelled within my sister, Khalisa, her voice heavy with sorrow. "At least spare our baby brother and the tools of our trade," she lamented, her words underscored by the cruel vulnerability that now gripped us, exposing our rawest vulnerabilities to the very powers we fought to overcome.

Among the ashes, all that remained were charred fragments of our existence, an inferno's cruel embrace devouring our cherished possessions. Even the meticulously packed items meant for our journey to Earth-One were reduced to nought. And amidst the devastation, our hearts carried the searing pain of loss, the absence of our precious Drako, our trusted guardian Benara, and the arsenal that had once promised our triumphant return.

***

From the moment of her birth, Benara's destiny was interwoven with the intricate tapestry of the royal palace. Born to a forbidden love between her prince father and a seer mother from the lower class, her existence thrived amidst the opulence and grandeur of the Kantonian monarch's realm. Raised amidst the splendour of regal halls, she was tutored alongside the princes and princesses, immersing herself in the arts of literacy, combat, and the ancient wisdom that flowed through her veins.

As the years unfurled their enigmatic dance, Benara's unique gift began to blossom. She discovered her ability to perceive glimpses of the future, a shimmering thread of foresight that granted her a tenuous grasp on survival throughout the eons. With each millennium that etched its mark upon her, she became a harbinger of destiny, guided by visions that kept her steps one stride ahead of time itself. A living testament to the passage of history, she witnessed civilizations rise and fall, traversing the labyrinthine corridors of existence with unyielding resilience.

But fate, in its capricious ways, ordained a new chapter for Benara. The monarch's noble bloodline, recognizing her irreplaceable value, bestowed upon her the mantle of the Larkin bloodline. Transitioning from the embrace of one family to another, she took on the role of a nurse maiden, her every breath dedicated to the service of her newfound kin. Though her unfiltered candour often stirred the ire of those in authority, she was indispensable to the Larkins, for her mind teemed with the secrets of their adversaries and the depths of her knowledge surpassed the bounds of time itself.

Benara's presence extended far beyond her years, transcending generations. She predated my father, her existence stretching back to a time before his own. When the fateful mantle of inheritance passed into his hands, he received her, a living legacy from his fallen father. Yet, the great rebellion battle that claimed his father's life had stripped him of his birthright, leaving him bereft of his ancestral lineage and the precious heirlooms that once bore the weight of their history.

In one night of tragic upheaval, the fragile tapestry of his heritage unravelled, leaving behind a hollow void in his heart and a legacy denied. And as the remnants of their stolen legacy dwindled to whispers in the night, Benara stood as a testament to resilience, a keeper of their shared history, bridging the chasm between a stolen past and an uncertain future.