[NARRATOR: Carl G Brooks]
Time was nothing to Vegala Infinity...

Being strapped to the centre of a galaxy brings with it an oscillated existence. Being responsible for time itself holds you to no time but the core. Timeless as it may be, Tyrant's abode felt like centuries. Woe, dismay, fatigued with guilt not his own to bare, the blockade of failure flooding inside, anxiety is the time keeper and it doesn't carry weight for anyone.

A house made of glass, and unwilling to cast the first stone, Tyrant can only watch on as the outside world cast their own. Days, months, perhaps years would pay a smidge more attention to those walking his sarcophagus, and notice a group of Velvetta Vanguards strolling by, yet another of many tribes that exist throughout the lands.

A stark contrast between the desolation of Tyrant's plateau of disarray, and the ever so cheerful group. But falling behind was one Velvettan Vegalian that stood out above the others. It appears Tyrant may not be the only tragedy succumbed to mental confinement. It all seemed too good to be true, but it was too soon to act now. He would lay waiting, looking outside of his window each day to see if the same pattern would repeat, and his amazement... Such fate would come to pass.

This mysterious soul would fall further and further back, as the others would giggle among themselves. It was at the point in time that Tyrant knew for once in his miserable life, he wasn't alone. No more beholden to the cavalcade of self destruction that bound him, it was time to learn more about his miracle. However it had dawned upon him gifts weren't often given, only earned.

Could it be that the deities gave him pity and mercy? It all seemed too good to be true, but of one could rise from gutter to glory, perhaps being a king did not matter anymore. The dream to become god no longer resided in the deities own choosing, destiny was not bound by their choosing any more. This time, Tyrant was about to become his own king...

On the hunt for his own Queen...