[NARRATOR: Carl G Brooks]
The creation of infinity started with a monstrous bang...
Behold! Vegala Infinity...

A rip flushed through the fabrics of space so large it forged two realms, hithaföl and Yondrathöl. The centre of it all, born Deities among gods. Hithistrus, Yondathaticus and Wondramite. Hither and Yonder, be ready for wonder.

For millions of years the deities of Vegala infinity created planets among their systems, watching them die and learn from their graves. Witnessing societies clash, digital races devolving and naturе crumbling. There stood tall in their hospicе a grand spectacle of archival called the IRIS, forged from the remnants of Vegalian aftershock, and the spirit of all deities, it sealed every planet's past and present, bolstering a brighter and longer future for each system.

Beyond their bubble were horrors beyond comprehension looking to make connection with Vegala Infinity. It is this secret they must bear for themselves, to be kept from their people forever. Among the Vegalian citizens, there were specially chosen gods to oversee the new planets' awakening, the messengers of Vegala must rule over their new system's realm until the day it dies. They weren't there to protect and save worlds, they were there to merely watch its example.

The deities created Vegala 0, a smaller singular planetary system connected to a star at the very edge of their infinity. What happens when the world is close to the bubble of infinity? Does it die to the shadow that would encompass it, or become resilient against it? No answer was clear until finding out.

Yondathaticus called upon its colony for a chosen god to oversee the Depth's turmoil. As many held their hands high, one stood tall, it was the charcoal prince himself, Vyson Pavavorey. They geared his arsenal and whisked him away to Vegala 0 on his mission, not to be seen until the task is done. Disbelief filled the air at what a dangerous existence this was, of which one stood against the Deities.

One long haired, bearded, bold and well kept Father Tyrant rose to his feet and dared to question Yondathaticus and the deities alongside their stead. This angered the almighty and swiftly cast Tyrant away to confinement, trapped inside a bolted and rotten cage to live his days until his punishment was complete.

Claustrophobic, carnal, and a burdening reminder of the cries for help he weeped for. Numb and pale, he would almost be lifted with offerings of help, but alas was tormented throughout the peril and suffering. His hope numbing forever, all for daring to ponder if he will ever escape this horrific confinement.

For once... Time did not seem to heal wounds...
It only created them...