**Prologue: The Fist That Shook the Stars (Part 1/2)**
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The stars trembled.
Above the shattered ruins of an ancient planet, two colossal beings clashed — their blows splitting asteroids and ripping the fabric of space itself. A sea of wreckage floated around them: broken moons, fragments of lost civilizations, dead gods whose corpses drifted endlessly.
In the heart of it all, **Lucian Drake** floated lazily, arms crossed, a bored look plastered across his devastatingly handsome face.
He wore no armor, no cape. Only a simple black tunic and loose pants tied at the ankles — his traditional martial attire from another life. His hair, silvery-white now, flowed freely in the cosmic wind, and his violet eyes shimmered with a dangerous light.
The being in front of him — a towering entity of raw cosmic energy known as **Vorthak the Endbringer** — snarled, drawing in the mass of a dying sun to forge a spear of pure plasma.
"You dare mock me, mortal?" Vorthak roared, his voice causing nearby stars to flicker.
Lucian yawned.
"I've fought gods more interesting than you back when I still needed to breathe," he said casually, brushing nonexistent dust from his sleeve.
The Endbringer hurled the plasma spear.
Lucian didn't move.
Instead, he raised a single finger — and flicked it.
The spear disintegrated into harmless golden motes before reaching him.
Vorthak hesitated, his vast energy faltering for a split second. That was all the opening Lucian needed.
With a sigh that could've been mistaken for annoyance, Lucian moved.
He vanished from his spot, appearing directly in front of the Endbringer, his fist already cocked back. The motion was deceptively simple — no flashy energy trails, no grand martial stances. Just a punch.
**But that punch carried the weight of a thousand collapsed worlds.**
**BOOM.**
The sound was muted in the vacuum of space, but the force behind it was anything but silent. Shockwaves rippled across the system, tearing apart dormant planets like paper. Even distant watchers — hidden cosmic beings who dared not intervene — shuddered.
Vorthak's body exploded outward from the point of impact, fragments of his once-immortal form scattering into the void.
Lucian exhaled slowly, letting his hand drop.
Boredom gnawed at him again.
Once, he had fought battles that made his blood sing. Once, every clash had been life and death, every opponent a stepping stone on his path to the peak. Now?
Now everything was dust beneath his feet.
Even after ascending past mortals, mutants, gods, and cosmic forces, Lucian felt... **empty**.
Was this all there was?
Was victory destined to be hollow forever?
He floated aimlessly for a moment, gazing out across the broken graveyard he had created. The twin suns of this ruined system burned dimly behind him, casting a muted golden halo around his form.
A voice — one he hadn't heard in eons — whispered at the edge of his consciousness.
**"Seeker of fists, do you still hunger for challenge?"**
Lucian blinked.
Before him, space itself twisted.
A single object formed — a crystalline relic, ancient and humming with forbidden power. It resembled a lotus flower made of mirrored glass, each petal reflecting entire realities.
He frowned.
He could *feel* it. The artifact wasn't from this universe. It pulsed with the signature of something older, something primal — a link to existence itself.
For the first time in centuries, curiosity stirred within him.
He reached out, fingers brushing the artifact.
A surge of information flooded him: visions of other worlds, other timelines, battles he had never fought, enemies he had never faced.
A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.
**Finally.**
Without hesitation, Lucian activated the relic.
Reality bent. Stars reversed their deaths. Time folded inward.
And then — **darkness**.