1-0. Reincarnation

Wakfu.

This eternal energy is the very source of creation, the power that flows through the universe known Krosmoz. It is present in all things, both living and inanimate, and is the very thread that ties the Krosmoz together. Through every man, woman and child flows Wakfu. Every living thing, whether it be beast, monster, or plant, has Wakfu within it. And even the ground we walk on, the air we breathe, and the sea that brings us life are conduits for Wakfu to flow. No matter what it is, Wakfu is present in all things, for it is the very force of creation itself.

But creation is only one side of a coin. When the flow of Wakfu is stemmed, that energy does not disappear. Instead, it is changed into its antithesis: Stasis. Where Wakfu is the embodiment of creation, Stasis is the embodiment of destruction. Rather than the cool blue hue of Wakfu, the energies of Statis is raw, undirected power, capable of unmaking nearly anything in a brilliant flash of purple. And, like Wakfu, it too is present in all things, for they are one and the same, yet paradoxically different.

Both Wakfu and Stasis hold great power, and it should come as no surprise that some have attempted to understand—and control—this power... No matter the cost.

The Xelor known as Nox was one such man, and his ambitions have brought ruin and despair to all in the World of Twelve. In order to harness Wakfu, he created countless machinations to forcibly extract it from the land. And, for two hundred years, his research and extraction went unopposed, slowly building more and more for the sake of his plot. No human could stop his ascent, for Nox was a patient man who bided his time, sending his machines to lands out of sight and mind to continuously gather energy. His Noxines, the small bug-like contraptions he used to siphon Wakfu, acted both as gatherers and spies to ensure his plans went unhindered.

This all changed when the Xelor learned of the dragon, Grougaloragran, as well as the child in the dragon's care. Nox's methods grew more overt, as he finally found a truly great source of Wakfu in that dragon. No longer would he be in the shadows, as the man began preparing for a confrontation against the dragon. Remote villages would be attacked, their defenders and denizens drained of most of their Wakfu. Noxines were released in droves, all in order to find the ancient beast. The plants he consumed were no longer simple trees, but instead entire forests, and he himself battled against the very treant guardians that protected these forests, in order to collect their Wakfu.

And it was due to one such battle that chance revealed to him the child of the dragon: Yugo.

Whether it was luck or fate, Yugo lived in village closest to the forest that Nox had attacked. The 12 year old child awoke to his abilities, and after a brief altercation with the Xelor, left to find his parent. Nox used this opportunity to shadow Yugo, his Noxines trailing just behind the boy, for he knew that it would lead him to the ancient dragon. Yugo's group of motley adventurers grew, earning their place in the world until they became known as the Brotherhood of the Tofu. The child found his dragon brother, Amadai, and their journey brought them close to his goal. In turn Nox's powers expanded, more Wakfu being funneled into his efforts, and the man even began incorporating Stasis into his machinations.

In time, Nox met the dragon, clashing with it at the desolate Oma Island. Here, Nox fought, both with his countless machines, and his twisted Xelor powers over time. Clockwork swarms and mummified memories of forgotten heroes all battled against the eternal dragon. Yet, with all his power, Nox was still unable to defeat it, as Grougaloragran chose sacrifice over defeat. Just like that, years of Wakfu was wasted... and Nox grew angry. His sights shifted from the ancient dragon to a primordial existence, and the Xelor resolved to attack the Tree of Life.

The Tree of Life was tied to the very existence of the Sadidas, humans who were in tune with Nature itself. Their abilities to speak with plants and earth, to call upon glorious vines or to bring dolls to life were formidable, and they held close ties with the treants of old. Yet even these powers were not enough, as the clockwork army of Nox soon drove itself deeper and deeper into the territories of the Sadida. Abandoned by the other nations, it was only through the combined efforts of the Sadida people and the Brotherhood of the Tofu that was Nox finally stopped.

And yet, after all he's done, not one person could fathom why the madman sought so much power. The Brotherhood of the Tofu couldn't understand, and the Sadida people only viewed Nox as a twisted force of destruction. Even the brothers who were at the culmination of the battle, Yugo and Amadai, had no clue why the man made so many sacrifices. All they knew was that Nox held the Eliacube, an artifact of immense power, and believed it could talk to him.

Truly a madman.

So why was his final words not of his defeat, but of his long-forgotten family?

No one knew. And no one would ever know. With the last of his power, Noximilien Coxen, the man beneath Nox, teleported away, disappearing forever from the World of Twelve. No one else in this world would be bothered by the existence of this madman, and never again would anyone suffer for his twisted ambitions. The force of destruction known as Nox had ended.

All remained of the Xelor's legacy was clockwork scrap, a swath of destruction, and a story of hubris for future generations. These were what truly mattered to the eyes of history. Nothing else mattered: Neither Nox's unfounded goals, nor the past he had left behind. Not even the pile of dust and bandages, scattered over three, unmarked graves, would be remembered.

The disciples of gods name themselves after their gods. Xelor, the Great Timekeeper, is worshiped by group known as Xelor's Sandglass. Iop's Heart worship the Iop, The Lord of the Brave. There exists names for each god that presides over the World of Twelve. Some groups seem outlandish with their naming, such as the followers of Sadida, who call themselves Sadida's Shoe. But, in spite of their names, every devout follower holds their gods in high esteem, for good reason.

Make no mistake; These gods are very much real.

When a soul dies, it is brought to the plane of Incarnam, where they undergo the rite of reincarnation, in order to be born again into the Krosmoz. And though the process has been stemmed once or twice, usually by the misguided ambition of an annoying demon lord, it is mostly left untouched. Usually, this system of existence is left alone, with neither gods nor demons seeking to disrupt the delicate balance.

However, the being known as Nox is not the usual case.

The man was so twisted by his actions that his spirit, rather than revert to the blank slate of the Disembodied, remained a mockery of his previous life. No human features remained for Noximilien Coxen, a man so thoroughly ripped by insanity and drive. His very being was nothing more than a humanoid mummy, wearing his signature robotic mask and his Wakfu harness. It seems that even the forces of creation chose to remember, not the cheerful watchmaker Noximilien, but rather the villain Nox.

Or, perhaps, Noximilien died centuries ago, another victim of Ogrest's chaos, and this mad shell was all that remained.

Regardless, Nox stood before the Gods of the world, the blue lights of his mask devoid of emotion as he watched the space before him. If he were someone else, perhaps he would've found joy, confusion, or veneration as he watched the Gods of the world argue and debate. The beings responsible for the World of Twelve stood before him, and many followers would be awestruck at the sight of their persons of worship. However, none of that mattered to Nox, and the broken man merely fixed his focus on empty space, as the voices of gods rang out.

"This is outrageous! He has done far too much. To let him reincarnate is a reward he is unworthy of." Sadida, the God of Masks, was the first to speak. His tone was laced with fury, the very stars echoing in the background as he yelled his complains. Countless dolls hovered around the humanoid Masked god, each with a stitched expression of unbridled anger. "My followers almost died because of his ambitions. Do you understand me? All of them almost died. Let his spirit be fed to Rushu and the demons instead."

The Angel of Compassion, Sacrier, was the next to speak, her voice far softer in contrast to her fellow god. "His path was one of turmoil, and though he harmed many in his wake, it was through misguided belief. Not malice. Though the fault of his actions was his own, he was the one misled by the Eliacube. Isn't the rite of reincarnation enough to absolve him? His trials will likely take centuries, but that's enough, isn't it?" The angel appealed to the ten other gods who were in attendance, trying to find someone to support her.

"Sacrier." The Golden Dragon, Enutrof, was the one who chose to meet her question. "You are the youngest of the gods, the last to join our pantheon, so I understand if you have some attachment with humans. Make no mistake, though. The transgressions of Nox far exceeds the tragedies of humans passed, and this discussion must take place. To blindly send him to Incarnam would be undermining the system that everything is built upon." The dragon's words were decidedly neutral, as he spoke of the necessity of the debate, rather than the content. And he was not alone, as few of the gods had any vested interest in the event before them.

"We have a duty to the people as much as we do to the system, Enutrof." Another voice rang out, this one firm as the Goddess of the Shield, Feca, made her position bare. "Nox clearly acted with harm in mind. He could've chosen to ignore the cube, but instead sought out more power. And for what? A chance for the impossible? We're lucky that his actions only costed lives. It could've been much worse: Imagine how much chaos there would be if he had broken Xelor's clock. To destroy the concept of time itself was something he could've done by accident."

At those words, a few of the gods turned their attention to the Celestial Clock. Since the dawn of their birth, the gods have used Xelor's clock to record the fabric of time. Even now, soft cracks have begun to form, the aftermath of Ogrest's chaos still fresh on the immaculate face. There was a chill in the nonexistent air, for no one present could predict what would happen should the clock break.

"Yes... Feca does have a point." Despite the circumstances, one god still had time for a chiding voice. A chesire grin was plastered on the face of the Cat God of Chance, Ecaflip. His slitted eyes, amber in colour, flickered to one god in particular, falling on the only one who had been silent throughout the entire exchange. "Tell me, Xelor, what do you think about this? After all, it's your follower we're talking about."

As always, Xelor stood silent, towering above the other gods as his eternal robes hid his features. By his side was his mace, an imposing constant for the Keeper of Time. For the first time in the entire meeting, Xelor shifted his gaze, the pitch-black hood of his garb fixing itself on Nox. A faint wisp of dust escaped his figure, and the other gods stood with apprehension as they waited for the guardian of time to speak.

"Noximilien Coxen was no Xelor."

It wasn't a statement of abandonment, or any kind of judgement. The echoing voice that rang out was a simple declaration of fact, and simply one of many that had been lost to time. It took a moment for the gods to understand, but they finally realized one important fact.

"... You're right." The God of Beasts, Osamodas, was the next to respond. A wyvern wrapped itself around the horned god, and his eyes fell on the spirit of Nox. "The watchmaker Noximilien was never a follower Xelor, so we should not treat him as such."

"That just means the Eliacube had twisted him to this degree!" Sacrier spoke out again, her voice wavering. It wasn't due to lack of conviction, but rather the implications of that fact which caused the lady of compassion to lose her voice. After all, to lose your very identity in the pursuit of false hope was something she saw time and time again, whether it be fallen soldiers or misguided bandits, and the goddess was only emboldened in her position. "He, more than anyone else, deserves a chance to reincarnate."

"Do you truly believe that, Sacrier?" Her voice was soft, but her words reached the rest of the gods all the same. Cra, the Goddess of the Hunt, fixed her eyes firmly on her fellow goddess, locked with the lady of compassion as she continued. "He has far more flaws than you let on. Nox has broken the lives of many men and women, and the idealistic, romantic veneer you paint on the man won't do anything to change that fact. I understand that you're more... sensitive to the workings of humans, but you cannot stop yourself from seeing the bigger picture." As she saw Sacrier's expression fall, the Goddess of the Hunt couldn't help but lighten her tone, speaking again with far less of an edge. "However, don't mistake my criticisms for judgement; I only wish that everyone takes the time to properly observ-"

"Enough! This debate is going nowhere, and it's boring to watch." A living skull made his disdain bare. Sram, the Lord of the Shadows, had long since grown tired of this charade. He let out a sigh, waving his hand dismissively while one of his leathery wings mimicked the gesture. "Just send him into the void and be done with it."

"That might be a little tooo far..." Eniripsa was the goddess known only as the Miracle Fairy, and her diminutive statue matched her name as she fluttered about. "But it is better than just throwing him to the demons. And I understand Sacchi's point of view, but Nox did do a lot of bad things." The fairy made her way to Nox, her eyes on fixed on the metal mask that consumed the man's face. For the most part, Nox made no effort to acknowledge her, his gaze still staring at some inconsequential point beyond the gods. "Whaddya think, Noxie?"

"He says he wants to be a spaceman!" As if that resolved everything, Eniripsa floated back to her spot, humming daintily as she settled down. "So that's that! We ship him off into space!"

"That doesn't solve anything!" It was Sadida's turn to be outraged, his mask somehow changing to an even angrier expression of rage. "He's a danger to everything. There's no reason we should just leave him alone. It's better to just end the problem here and now!"

"And ending the problem is exactly what we're doing, Saddy. We send him off away from us, so he won't be bothering the World of Twelve any more. You'll be happy since he's out of your hair, and Sacchi will be happy since he'll still get to be him!"

"How would I be happy with that? Exile into some unknown place? That's even worse than just ending his life!" To say that Sacrier was upset was putting it lightly. "Having him drift in the emptiness of space is a fate worse than death!"

At those words, an unexpected god gave a grin. "Don't worry about it, Sacchi." A certain cat god gave a mysterious smile, turning to the lady of Compassion as Ecaflip arched his back. "Call it a hunch, but I'm certain our little tin mummy still has a fair amount of luck left in him. He'll be fine." From anyone else, those words might simply be a teasing remark, but no other god was silly enough to refute the God of Chance on this matter. With a final smirk, Ecaflip turned his attention to Nox. "I only wonder whether this is good luck or bad."

On that night, a brilliantly blue shooting star descended over the night sky of Vale. It was a rare sight to behold, but one that filled observers with fascination. To children, a shooting star was something straight out of a fairy tale. For good or ill, it was the only bit of magic these children could see.

Somewhere, a little red ten-year-old watched the streak of blue with fascination, resting down beside her elder sister.

A blonde boy gritted his teeth in frustration, as one of his many siblings calmed him down.

A girl in black, disillusioned by the world, puts on a mask for the first time.

But children were not the only ones who spotted this sight. While a shooting star may be a symbol to the younger generations, the older ones know better, and viewed the meteor of something else entirely.

A surveyor for a certain mining company made note of potential resources.

The scout of a particular group of Faunus did the same.

A common criminal ignored the sight, using it as a starting cue as he began his own little devices.

One teacher made a quick change to his syllabus, giving himself a little more time for his huntsmen duties.

Even with their age, not everyone had enough experience. It was only the truly wise who made note of this shimmering light.

An old man adjusted his glasses, taking a sip from his mug.

Another old man straightened his pristine white suit, eyes fixed firmly on the footage as his subordinates stood at attention.

A young lady frowned, brushing her dark hair aside, eyes filled with doubt as she made some changes to future plans.

One final person gave a sigh, bloodied, down on his knees as power was passed from an old leader to the newer, hot-blooded generation.



Yet, for all their worth, humans and faunus were not the only things that lived on the world of Remnant. If anything, they were the minority, as a veritable sea of darkness began to stir. It was no secret that the creatures of grimm are drawn to negative emotions. Despair, anger, frustration... All of these are like a beacon for the wayward creatures of destruction.

So, when that azure star descended from the night sky, wreathed with the sensation of a broken man, was it any surprise that grimm swarmed like flies?