The Call of the Creator

In the depths of the Fairy World, where the sky shimmered with the hues of dawn and dusk at the same time, where glowing petals danced in an eternal breeze, and rivers of stardust wove through the air like celestial ribbons, Ramiris, the Queen of Spirits and Fairies, sat upon a throne of ethereal light.

She was not just a ruler of the Fairy Realm—she was a being of profound importance, tasked by Veldanava himself to be the Watcher of the World, a guardian who nurtured hope, potential, and destiny itself.

Unlike the great warriors and kings who carved their names into history through battle, Ramiris shaped the unseen forces of fate. She was the one who bestowed the Hero's Egg, the seed of power that lay dormant within worthy individuals, waiting for them to prove their will, their courage, their heart—until the egg bloomed, transforming them into true Heroes of the World.

She existed beyond the reach of nations and politics, beyond the grasp of mortal ambitions. In the grand tapestry of existence, she was the unseen hand that guided the protectors of the world.

Ramiris was no ordinary spirit—she was a force of nature, a being whose very presence radiated boundless magic.

Her dominion, the Fairy World, was an infinite paradise untouched by time, hidden between dimensions. The trees were woven from pure energy, their leaves humming with whispers of past and future. The air shimmered with ancient power, and the sky itself was a living canvas of shifting dreams.

Ramiris could bend reality with a mere thought—her magic was an expression of boundless creativity. She could create labyrinths with infinite space, crafting small worlds within worlds, where time and space followed her design. These labyrinths were not mere prisons but sanctuaries, realms of training, trials, and treasures—

And yet, despite her unfathomable magic, she remained playful, mischievous, and unpredictable. She was whimsical yet wise, a queen who laughed as easily as she commanded the elements.

Though she ruled the Fairy World, Ramiris often left her mystical domain to ascend to the Heavenly Palace, the radiant throne of Veldanava, the Creator of the Cardinal World.

There, beyond the fabric of mortal reality, where existence itself bowed to divine will, she would meet with the Supreme Creator.

"Veldanavaaaaaaa! I'm back!" she would announce, zipping through the halls of the palace like a golden comet.

The Heavenly Palace was a realm of eternity, where stars moved like sentient beings, where rivers of cosmic energy flowed through the sky, and where time existed as both past, present, and future simultaneously.

Only a handful of beings in all existence could enter this place freely—and Ramiris was one of them.

Veldanava would often greet her with a knowing smile, watching as she twirled through the air, full of endless energy. She would report on the state of the world, on the emergence of potential heroes, on the balance between light and darkness.

She was one of his most trusted beings—not because of her strength, but because of her heart. She was the one who ensured that no matter how dark the world became, no matter how strong the forces of destruction grew, there would always be those who stood against the abyss, guided by her light.

Ramiris was more than just a fairy, more than just a queen.

She was the Watcher of Heroes, the Giver of Destiny, the Guardian of Hope.

Wherever there was someone worthy, someone with the will to fight for others, to push beyond their limits, she was there—watching, guiding, and waiting for their moment to shine.

For as long as the world existed, as long as there was a need for heroes, Ramiris would never stop searching for those who could change fate itself.

The world had settled into a deceptive calm.

No great wars, no divine upheavals—only the occasional tremor of power as Guy bared his fangs, proclaiming himself a Demon Lord and asserting his presence. But even that was not enough to warrant Arion's intervention.

From the shadows, he watched.

He watched as Rudra, under Veldanava's guidance, sharpened his resolve, growing ever closer to becoming the world's first true human hero. He observed Velzard and Velgrynd, their relentless training shaping them into even more formidable existences, preparing for a future they could not yet see.

He saw Velgrynd's growing attachment to Rudra, a silent tether forming between them, an unspoken promise of companionship.

And through it all, Arion remained a phantom, an unseen force ensuring that nothing tipped the balance too far.

For years, he had moved like a shadow, his presence felt but never known.

Until Veldanava finally decided it was time to meet him.

Within the Heavenly Palace, where existence itself bent to his will, Veldanava sat upon his throne of eternity.

Golden rivers of divine energy cascaded around him, flowing like liquid stars, their movements echoing the pulse of creation itself.

He had watched, as he always did.

Arion had done well.

He had not overstepped, nor had he faltered in his vigilance. He had remained the silent enforcer, ensuring that the world progressed without unnecessary chaos. A hidden guardian, unseen yet ever-present.

And now, it was time.

The Supreme Deity closed his golden eyes for a moment, his mind drifting through the vast threads of fate.

He had already shaped one future—Rudra's path as the first human hero.

He had already placed one watcher—Ramiris, the Queen of Spirits, to oversee the flow of fate.

Guy, the Demon Lord as the Mediator.

But there was another path, another force that needed to be set in motion.

A force that would not simply watch, but move history forward without ever being seen.

Veldanava opened his eyes, their golden brilliance illuminating the cosmos itself.

"It is time."

His voice resonated through the very fabric of existence, a declaration that would set events into motion.

It was time to meet Arion.

Deep within the Jura Forest, nestled between the folds of space itself, lay the Eternal City of Sleep—a place unseen, unknown, untouched by the eyes of the world. It was a city frozen in eternal twilight, where the stars gleamed brighter than anywhere else, and the moon's glow shimmered like liquid silver upon the quiet streets.

This was Arion's domain, the seat of his unseen influence.

Here, he trained, honed his skills in the art of shadows, mastering every technique that allowed him to remain a phantom in the world.

Here, he listened, as his vast network of spies whispered the secrets of every kingdom, every ruler, every power that moved within the Cardinal World.

Nothing escaped him.

At that very moment, Arion was in the middle of a sparring session, his figure moving like a whisper against the air, his blade slicing through illusions only to reform them in an instant. He was testing himself against his own creations, breaking and reconstructing scenarios in real time, forcing himself to react faster, think sharper, move beyond the limits of mortality.

Then, in a single instant, everything stopped.

A pulse of divine energy swept through the space around him, so absolute, so unfathomable, that the very fabric of reality twisted at its presence. Before Arion could even process it, his entire existence was pulled into a force beyond comprehension.

He had no choice in the matter.

The Creator was calling him.

Arion reappeared in a place that should not exist.

A vast, endless expanse of celestial gold and shifting cosmos stretched around him, neither sky nor earth, yet both at once. The air itself shimmered like woven stardust, the fabric of this realm pulsating with a power so vast, so immeasurable, that it sent a thrill of warning through his senses.

And then, before him, stood the one who had summoned him.

Veldanava.

The Creator of the Cardinal World. The Supreme Being whose mere presence dictated the existence of all things.

Arion's entire being screamed at him to kneel, to submit to the authority that governed all reality.

But he did not.

Instead, he straightened himself, his crimson eyes locked onto the radiant figure before him. If Veldanava had called him, it was for a reason. And he would face it standing.

Veldanava observed him with a gaze that held infinity itself, a faint smile playing on his lips.

"Still as defiant as ever," Veldanava mused, his voice echoing in the very threads of existence. "Good."