Chickennoodlesoup1

Who is Aether? Wasn’t he Leonardo just a while ago? No way… the Museum, him? He can’t survive in there. The number of beings and phenomena are absurd. A mere miner couldn’t possibly—

From Leonardo to Aether, he is now a tour guide. Knock. Wake up. He is here to guide you, from the highest realm to the lowest era. He knows every hole, every cult, nothing too small or too hidden in a realm brimming with mysteries. His story—his original story—has brought together hundreds of races.

His vision awakening in the Museum, his eyes shining as bright as stars upon opening them—was it heaven at first? It’s more like hell now. He’s diverged from his original path, now fully entangled in the Museum, no longer just an era, a mere thought, or a simple story.

He is a practical officer among the five tour guides.

The eras continue to form, the copies continue shaping concepts, and the sages continue to watch over 21 realms. But his story has only just begun. From floor to floor, wonder to wonder—he is lucky to be the son.

From the brightest city to the farthest reaches of the 20th realm, evolution, an impediment to the term "growth," this is Aether. Your, yes, your, uninvited guest.


https://discord.gg/Pjz9taHPjs.  [Discord guys!!}

Museum Of Narratives

The people danced around the god, their bodies moving in unison, like marionettes pulled by invisible strings. Robed figures encased in gold chanted, their voices a discordant symphony of half-remembered hymns and garbled invocations. It was chaos, yet it was choreographed—a grotesque parody of devotion.

We're like animals, Zephyros thought, his eyes darting across the scene. Compared to the rituals in the city, this was more theatrical, more... hollow. He slapped himself, unwittingly, as if trying to shake off the memory of something he hadn't even fully experienced. Why did it feel so familiar? Why did it make his skin crawl?

The air was thick with the scent of incense and sweat, a cloying mixture that made his stomach churn. The rhythmic pounding of drums reverberated through his chest, each beat a reminder of the suffocating expectations pressing down on him.

The Cage of Hollow Faith