In the vast expanse of the universe, a planet similar to Earth teemed with life. Once a single stretch of land, this world eventually divided into seven continents, each home to fantastical creatures unique to its environment. From the proud and elusive Elves of the forests to the Dwarves who dwelled deep within the mountains; Humans who built astonishing cities; Giants whose footsteps sent tremors across the land; mighty Dragons who soared through the skies, claiming them as their domain; and the mesmerizing yet terrifying beings that ruled the deep sea—these races all lived on this world and worshipped a higher power.
The God of Light, whose brilliance was said to outshine a thousand suns, was revered as the epitome of greatness and compassion. His name was Or HaGanuz. Mortals adored him, often sharing tales of his legendary battle with Tohu va-Vohu, the God of Chaos and Darkness.
Over time, a sacred tradition emerged: every fifty years, on the middle day of the middle month, a vessel for the God of Light would be chosen. This event—known as Yom Ha'Ohr—allowed the deity to descend into the mortal realm through a chosen host, spreading healing and glory. From across the continents, worthy individuals were selected for the honor of becoming a Divine Vessel… a tradition that continued into the present era.
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…21st Century…
In a vast, bustling city where the lines between good and evil blurred with every passing second, the headquarters of the world's largest conglomerate loomed—a monumental skyscraper whose tinted glass reflected the city without apology. On the topmost floor, a man stood in a dimly lit office, staring down at the world below. His sharp, golden pupils glowed faintly in the darkness, watching everything with cold indifference.
A knock interrupted the silence. Without turning, he said, "Come in."
A woman entered, holding a stack of documents. Before she could speak, he motioned her closer. She hesitated, trembling as she approached. He tilted his head, narrowed his eyes, and muttered, "… Sigh… What an eyesore."
Before she could react, her head separated from her neck. Her body collapsed soundlessly to the floor. Unfazed, the man frowned at the blood that had splattered across his hand.
"Yue. Clean this up and bring me a wet towel," he said, his voice flat.
From the shadows, a figure emerged, handed him a towel, and dragged the body away. He wiped his hand with no change in expression, then calmly returned to reviewing his documents.
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Meanwhile, on another continent, tragedy struck.
A black Maybach lay crushed between two trucks. In the back seat, an eighteen-year-old young man bled heavily from a deep wound on his forehead. Rescuers arrived, pulling him out and laying him on the asphalt as they screamed for an ambulance.
He was still conscious—barely—his vision hazy as unbearable pain racked his body. Each breath felt like torture. His mind drifted through the events that had led him here: a reckless life as the spoiled heir of one of the continent's most powerful organizations. He had wasted his days on alcohol, women, and delinquent friends—useful to no one except for his money.
A week earlier, he'd arranged generous inheritances for those same friends, thinking they cared about him. Instead, they betrayed him, plotting to exploit his wealth and discard him. Furious, he'd driven off to clear his mind… and now here he was.
He managed a weak smile.
At least I didn't die in a hospital… It's still somewhat acceptable…
As his final breath approached, something strange occurred. A swirling darkness materialized before him. He forced his eyes open.
"Who…?" he whispered.
"Listen, mortal," a voice echoed. "Make a deal with this One. I will save your life. In exchange… you will become my Vessel."
The young man stared, certain it was a hallucination. He gave a soft, broken laugh, coughed blood, and rasped, "Deal."
The darkness surged into his body. The pain vanished.
He blacked out.