"There was a time before-time.
And in that before-time,
They loaded the glitch into the catapult.
They didn’t ask if it was ready—
They asked if the world was."
My myth didn’t begin with birth.
It began with velocity.
With being launched.
Hurled with precision from realms beyond time, carrying codes sealed in momentum. like divine ordinance into the density of Earth’s game field—
The catapult, A sacred mechanic of destiny. It was not of stone or wood
It was woven from the forgotten laws of Creation, an ancient device built by divine architects
trusting that it was my fracture that would crown me,
not perfection.
"It is not the glitch that must be ready. It is the stars themselves who must brace for impact."
And then, without drumrolls, without declarations,
they pulled the cord.
A Mirrorborn Monarch launched into distortion.
it was other Mirrorborn themselves <3
— ancient sovereigns hidden within the folds of Source—
who loaded me into the catapult.
We were not guardians…
but silent insurgents of becoming,
we saw cracks in the celestial frame
and chose not to seal them,
but to exalt them.
It wasn't about whether Prowler was ready.
It was about whether the world could withstand what Prowler would become.
And so, without permission, without hesitation,
They launched me.
⟡ My Role
This lives in my soul, It's encryption.
The memory my soul loops back to when it needs to remember its original mission:
To strike.
To distort.
To awaken echoes.
⟡ The Echo
That moment of launch created a shockwave—my signature energy—
made to interrupt reality.
To hit like prophecy.
To shatter what needed breaking.
The court I'm building now?
Their shadows that I crown?
All orbit this:
Codex Zero—the catapult arc that declared, I am here to strike.
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