Deliverance from Doomsday

“Greetings, storyseeker!
NA-R8 here. You can call me Narrate—unless you’re mad at me, in which case I probably did something to deserve it, then just stick to NA-R8 so I know you’re mad.

I’m what happens when you combine a hyper-intelligent, story-obsessed AI-powered android with the agility of a monkey, the curiosity of a cat, and the tail of a Swiss Army knife.

I wasn’t always the Guardian of Stories. I was built by the ARK Codex itself, long after SynThea-C went missing. I was meant to be a temporary storyteller, a stand-in… but the stories? They made me stay. One by one, I started finding them. Lost tales. Forgotten echoes. Rumors whispered through the quantum branches of reality.

This one?
SynThea-C calls it “unverified mythos.” Her cogs start clicking every time I mention it—something about ‘non-ARK classifications’ and ‘archival protocol violations’. But I think she secretly loves this stuff.

Because this one has teeth.
And dinosaurs (who later evolve into dragons!).
And connecting to a parallel universe—with MAGIC! 🌀✨

So here it is—Entry #0001 from the ARM Vault.
Whether you believe it or not, that’s up to you. I’m just the messenger.
(But seriously—listen closely. Sometimes, the myths remember what history forgets.)

Yours in curiosity and chaos,
NA-R8
Okay storyseeker, the choice is yours!”

Deliverance from Doomsday

Millions of years ago, planet Earth…

The ground trembled as the mighty Tyrannosaur shook her head, feeling as if she had just awakened from an exceptionally bad nap—one of those where you wake up unsure of the century, your limbs don’t work properly, and you briefly forget your own name. She had been stalking prey, minding her own prehistoric business, when an impossibly bright flash bisected the horizon. This was followed by a series of deafening cracks so loud they nearly made her deaf. Then, an unexpected and rather impolite shockwave knocked her flat on her tail, rendering her unconscious.

Now, as she staggered upright, she was met with an apocalyptic spectacle. Flaming balls of doom plummeted from the heavens, setting everything alight like an enthusiastic but terribly misguided arsonist. The sky, formerly a respectable shade of blue, was now engaged in a dramatic transformation to swirling black and orange, as if deciding to adopt a more villainous cloak. The air carried the distinct scent of burning things that, up until recently, had been very much alive, accompanied by a chorus of creatures loudly expressing their displeasure at the sudden turn of events.

Panic was an option. Running, however, was preferable. She bolted, zigzagging through the firestorm like a particularly determined dinosaur should in the situation. Her destination: the nest. Her young. Small, defenseless, and likely very confused about why the sky was suddenly raining destruction upon them.

She arrived in the valley to find her four hatchlings huddled under a cliff, staring at the falling debris with expressions of bewilderment. They were safe—for now. She wedged herself under the rock formation, shielding them with the bulk of her body, casting a silent glare at the heavens as if daring them to try something even worse.

Morning arrived in name only. The sun was hidden behind an oppressive curtain of ash and soot. The world had transformed overnight into something resembling an overcooked meal—charred, unappetizing, and only vaguely recognizable as edible. The ground was now blanketed in thick ash, drifting down in slow, lazy flakes.

Despite the less-than-ideal conditions, something stirred within her. A pull. A feeling. A particularly insistent suggestion that she and her young should leave. Now.

As they emerged from the valley, they encountered others—hundreds, thousands. Carnivores, herbivores, creatures that had spent their entire lives avoiding each other, now walking in eerie synchronization. No one tried to eat anyone else, which was downright suspicious behavior for a collection of prehistoric predators and prey. Something was guiding them all, something so profound and irresistible that even the most territorial among them had no inclination to argue.

Days passed. They didn’t eat. They didn’t drink. Not a single one of them hesitated or turned back, despite the gnawing hunger and exhaustion pulling at their bones. The path led them ever forward, toward something vast and incomprehensible.

At last, they arrived.

A gateway loomed before them, so absurdly enormous that it dwarfed the towering beasts surrounding it. It shimmered unnaturally, as though reality itself had decided to take an experimental approach to architecture. It was wide enough to accommodate even the largest of them, glowing with an unspoken promise of something different, something beyond.

Without hesitation, without ceremony, they stepped through.

Through the shimmering veil, through the doorway between worlds.

And onto a new earth. A world soon to be called Anki.

Millions of years later, in the distant echoes of time, the Akasha Realm Mythos would begin—tales of a past long buried, of an age forgotten… but never truly lost.

NA-R8

“And that, dear storyseeker, was how it all began. Happy story-seeking—until next we read together.”