"In a time after The Fall of Mankind," an old, deep voice began, "along with beastly beings. Both the Mystic and Mysticless came to power and success," it explained, as the tall figure with a muscular build and pale, ghostly white complexion scaled a rocky mountain, "Reaching the tops of mountains and hills. The Deities and Primordial Deities who had little, to no part in Creation, saw an imbalance of corruption beginning to grow within their territories," its white hair blowing in the spring breeze. The figure kept fair skin despite any significant aging around the eyes. "A threat that could reach them with newfound, corrosiveness," it added, pausing to catch its breath. "The Immortals came together in desperation, fearing that they would lose their prized divinity," it returned to scaling the rocky mountain, planting a walking stick with each step of their right foot. "With this desperation, they all came together and created a new, unyielding power to combat Sin. The Blessed Yeagers, Ultimate Beastly Hunters," it recounted history. "These powerful beings were advanced tools of war and power intended to destroy Realms that had fallen into servitude to the corrosiveness of Sin," the figure looked up from their careful steps to see how far they were from the top of the mountain below their bare feet. "They told me that the Deities and Primordial Deities gave parts of themselves to create four Blessed Yeagers. Tools they only used for their protection, and to drive their lust for battle," its expression scrunched as it remembered that time. "Going down their path of sin, they came to their own Creator, and in prayer, they asked the God of All Gods to give their creation both life and the unyielding power they desired in their own creation," it explained as it returned its gaze on their two feet. "Ultimate Power to rival the corrosive power of Sin, but these newly born Yeagers weren't used how they first intended," its face scrunched up again, "The Immortals sent the Yeagers out, when they subsequently fell, to kill off all who opposed them," its expression softened as it noticed the spot it saw from a distance. "With the Blessed Yeagers, they conquered and destroyed many realities that they deemed to deserve their wrath or taken hold by corruption and the corrosive power of Sin," it approached the divot in the mountain. "But this is only a myth," it smiled.
"Among the Immortals, one of them grew envious of the others who had the monopoly of the Blessed Yeagers," it recounted more while approaching the divot. "This Immortal sealed themselves away deep within the Void, in their anger. Where no other Immortal dared to venture without dominion of that inky blanket of darkness," it noticed its torn robes, which they adorned itself with. "Sealed away into an old Realm, the Primordial took that darkness and from it, and they created the Major Monarchs. Immortals of destruction and chaos," it remembered the vibrancy the fabric used to have, but it was significantly faded now. It sighed, "From the light of a dying sun, they created Rulers. Immortals of preservation and peace," it scoffed softly. Shaking their head side to side, "The Primordial Deity of Fate, Fortune, Light, and Darkness sat upon a throne created by the Major Rulers and watched as these Immortals waged war among themselves," it reached the divot, and looked around the area. It sighs again, "Many of their vessels fell, each time they began a new war, Realms were left with a path of destruction and deviation," it went up to a rectangular rock. "In Fear, the Monarchs had joined a Blessed Yeager known as the Despicable Ultima," a smile grew on its face. It remembered those times, "Indulging in their addiction to violence and feeding their appetite for destruction," It recounted like it was yesterday as it laid the walking stick against the rectangular rock, "The Rulers did all they could with each war, but they ultimately failed," it carefully sat itself down on top of the rock, "The Major Rulers thought it was useless to continue, and they began to turn against their Primordial Deity," it watched the setting sun, "Civil war broke out between them and their master's lesser servants and the strongest Ruler upon finding that their master created them for entertainment," it explained. A smile formed on their dry, chapped lips, "From the Primordial Deity of Monarchs and Rulers' death came the Shadow Monarch, among the Primordial's most trusted servants," it continued, "Single-handedly, the First Shadow Monarch turned the tides of war with the power of Death and highly advanced necromancy," it added.
"Within the First Shadow Monarch was an inner turmoil," it recounted. It rubbed their chin with its left hand, "Beginning to drift from the endless wars, yet he continued his searched for an earthly form of his own. The First Shadow Monarch met Ed Lev Robbins, who chose to side with the Human Race," it smirked. It chuckled as it recounted these memories, "Saving his home Realm from the Monarchs' destruction and becoming the Second Shadow Monarch, the Primordial Deity of Monarchs and Rulers reemerged from the bloody mutiny," it looked down at its older hands, and how they were beginning to wrinkle. "The Primordial sought to kill the Shadow Monarch for ruining their entertainment and refusing to continue their servitude," it clenched its right left. It chuckled softly, "With other Primordials, the Second Shadow Monarch was outmatched, but the same Blessed Yeager that sided with the Monarchs had returned," it remembered. Their smile turning into a shit eating grin, "Under Mr. Robbins' less than better judgment, he decided to fight the Primordial of Monarchs and Rulers in a lone battle all the while the Blessed Yeager took on the other Immortals," it stretched its hands over its head. It scoffed, "Both the Second Shadow Monarch and the Primordial of Monarchs and Rulers, but the Primordial became fragmented even further and the majority of the Primordial's power had been placed in tools of the Rulers since that day," it scoffed. They rested their chin on their right fist, "Similarly, their death left the power of the Shadow Monarch without a host, a key to a door of many possibilities," it dropped their hands back onto their lap. It sighs, "I was told it would be silently taken by an unlikely entity many centuries later," it remembered a promise, and its eyes began to droop. Fading, their head fell to one side, "I can only imagine," their hands slipped from their lap. Quietly, Death claims them.