We make sure that nothing gets in the way.
— In the face of eternity, everyone is equal — no matter how long you live and how long you reborn,
in the end, everything is the same. New stars flare up, galaxies scatter into space debris and dust, new worlds appear, where life arises and fades away and old planets turn into cracked — like old skin — desert that slowly crumbles, making room for new bases: or it shatters into pieces under the blow of another asteroid, cutting through the expanses of space, like a lost starship, with a crew dead from hunger and dehydration — in the last reserves of fuel, inexorably and relentlessly goes to its own end with its squad. Nebulae freeze like a multi-colored battle canvas where great beings fought, commanding life and death under whose feet the universe trembled and each battle redrawn several sectors of the cosmos into something indescribable. Because it’s impossible to describe the consequences of the war of truly powerful creatures: there aren’t enough words or feelings for that, which cause you to clash your fists, like collisions of galaxies. When the vacuum is cracking and the stars are spreading like an exploding packet of milk, spraying with red-hot substance in all directions — burning planets and ships of those who dared to approach a fairly close distance. Every time I remember my friends, our accomplishments and the fact that they all left, disappeared, I feel incredibly sad and cold in these lonely space, — Rockheat spat, squeezing the button of the recorder, dissolving it in the air (at least it will always be possible to get it out of the space pocket when it suits him), and removed a cigarette from the air, lighting it from the tip of the finger; inhaled, exhaling acrid gray smoke.
It was too cold that day. Kheldaroth was an artificial world created by himself and visually reflected the internal state of his creator — the same gray, with sickly yellow clouds overtaking the gray sky leaving only small gaps, as if so that he who looked into that could make sure that this color hopelessness laid beyond the clouds. It was incredibly cold here — much colder than what some called the "absolute zero point" — because, unfortunately, in some closed and ruined worlds the laws of physics worked extremely crookedly. However, the creator himself did not feel either cold or heat: no more than he would have liked. He dragged on again, brushing ashes from his shoulders, which constantly strewed from the sky, dotting the earth with gray-black patterns, so that all this looked like a scorched ashes after an orbital bombardment by a squadron of dreadnought of the Zoumale Empire. Having finished his cigarette and thrown away, Rockhat returned to the room and looked around at the stack of papers. Taking a deep breath, he turned away and headed for the exit from his office, simultaneously changing his view from the window to some random cosmic landscape, because looking at this lifeless desert was like a detailed study of his inside through a mirror. Leaving the building, he walked quickly past the gray stone houses of his city to the largest building, which had a completely different style. Today a new member was to be prepared in his own organized group.
It began a long time ago — about 50 billion years ago, when he managed to decipher the essence of space and time. After all, a long time ago, about 10 times longer, there existed what could be called in any language of the universe “life”, “source”, “beginning” — that existed before the beginning of time always existed, and hung like a firefly in the middle of black boundless space. And how long it lasted was unknown, but it was only known that this substance was pure energy and had its infallible will and ideal mind. And for a long time it thought over how life might have looked, an ideal being, a perfect, worthy creator. And then, those who could be called “Creators” were created: incredibly strong creatures that look similar to what people now resemble, although it’s more correct to say that people were just a miserable distant parody of their internal and external structure compared with the "creators". But consciously or not, a certain flaw was laid, a certain program error, which was to lead to a failure sooner or later.
And it happened.
And so were born emotions.
And so greed and pride were born.
And one of the "Creators" decided to take possession of the power of the "source", which led to a great catastrophe that torn space and time. By the way, the proud man did not succeed in reaching his goals. And the “source” was divided into five parts, as the great “nothing” in which it was located, enveloping each of the five pieces of the source, was divided. “earth”, “water”, “fire”, “air” and “power” are five principles, of course, energy principles, which have nothing to do with those nouns with respect to which these definitions are now applied in many worlds. Even ordinary air, can possess the energy of the "earth" and vice versa. But what mediocre organisms can know about this.
Nobody of the "Creators" almost survived, and those who remained — went to the sector in which the center was the beginning of "air". The remnants of those who fled, having lost most of their knowledge, trying to revive their greatness, gave rise to the race of “Demiurges”. Those who were (as they were taught) created to create life. And they learned to create it. Several galaxies were created, with the main, central world, its size overshadowing everything else. And in that world a special university was founded where the “demiurges" were taught all kinds of uses of energy, matter, creation, understanding, understanding of the essence of energy, and its management. And so it was the beginning of what many now call "magic"...
P.S. The comic is presented in the first person, except for the scenes of memories and some branches of the plot.
Enjoy diving <3
The main idea have been already in our heads for a long time but only this winter we decided to make comic and spreadour piece of art to the world
