Corapedria

Corapedria, known to most simply as Cora. Born from the hands of the The Creator, Cora was not always a Celestial; he began his existence as an angel, the first even before Micheal, crafted in the earliest dawn of creation, long before the concept of time had even taken its first breath. Cora, second only to his elder sibling 6792 by mere hours, emerged 21 duotrigintillion years ago, at the exact moment the Multiverse itself came into being. He was the second of God's earliest experiments in perfection, designed with a deliberate, painstaking precision that blended strength, elegance, curiosity, and the unfaltering spark of divine purpose.

For untold eons, the legions of Heaven upheld the Creator's design, maintaining harmony across realms uncountable and dimensions so abstract that even angels struggled to comprehend them. Cora and his brother grew alongside one another in Heaven, inseparable and ever-questioning. They pondered their existence, their nature, and their purpose as they watched creation unfold from afar. They were forbidden from leaving Heaven, yet were gifted the ability to observe all that the Creator shaped. They observed nebulae blooming like divine flowers, civilizations rising and falling, and ancient forces wrestling for dominance in the vast tapestry of existence. These experiences deepened their bond, creating a love between them that transcended duty.

However, the cosmic order began to fracture when Lucifer betrayed Heaven and birthed Hell from the ashes of his rebellion. Chaos seeped into the ever-expanding Multiverse like a spreading infection. New terrors emerged, and maintaining the delicate balance became nearly impossible. Conflicts erupted everywhere: gods warring against one another, mortals discovering power beyond their control, demons stalking dimensions that were once serene, and creatures even the angels feared beginning to rise from the outer edges of creation. The Multiverse trembled under the weight of its own expansion.

Seeing the rising disorder, the Creator decreed that a new race must be forged: the Celestials. Unlike angels, who were meant to nurture, observe, and preserve, Celestials were designed to destroy. They were divine instruments of judgment, commanded to annihilate any world, species, or system that had fallen into corruption, anarchy, or destabilizing chaos. Their purpose was brutal yet simple; To reset the balance by erasing what had grown beyond saving. They were more than warriors; they were just, weapons, forged in the Creator's self-absorbed light and shadow to cleanse the Multiverse of excess, entropy, and evil, no matter the cost.

Cora was not initially created as one of these beings, but the Creator chose him for transformation. His angelic nature was stripped away. His once beautiful wings were torn from him and replaced with tendrils of raw cosmic force. His body became a vessel for incomprehensible energies, his soul rewritten into something far more powerful and far more dangerous. Bloodlust filled him, an embedded instinct that drove all Celestials to destroy without hesitation, without mercy, and without question. Though traces of his angelic heart survived, he could no longer feel the ease, joy, and clarity he once had. Peace became a foreign concept.

He was now built for violence. And violence defined him.

The Celestial instinct drove him to destroy. And destroy he did. For countless millennia, Cora roamed the Multiverse alongside his fellow Celestials, reducing grand empires to dust, collapsing star systems, and extinguishing entire species. Planets that had once thrived with life were erased in moments, all under the Creator's hypocritical belief that destruction was the path to order.

It was around this era that the Creator succumbed to His ego death and vanished from the Multiverse. The departure shattered Cora. His connection to God ran deeper than that of any other Celestial, and he found himself unable to comprehend the loss. As Heaven fell into disarray, the mortals of the Multiverse rose in defiance. They were tired of living under the constant threat of annihilation, tired of knowing that their existence could be obliterated without warning.

United by desperation, mortals pooled knowledge, magic, and technology across countless universes to forge the Celestial Killers, terrifying weapons capable of destroying any deity, god, and of course, Celestial's soul permanently. These weapons, created from rare materials and arcane techniques gathered from all corners of existence, were unlike anything the Multiverse had ever seen.

The Celestial Wars that followed was swift, merciless, and devastating. In a few hundred thousand years... Compared to the ages of Celestial reign, the mortals succeeded in wiping out nearly the entire Celestial race. Quite literally none survived apart from maybe two or five. Cora was still bound by loyalty to the Creator and anchored by the role forced upon him, and he refused to betray his purpose. Even as mortals wielded weapons capable of ending him rather instantly, he fought back with a fury that eclipsed nearly all others of his kind. His survival alone was proof he was the strongest of his kin.

But survival came with a cost. When the rebellion ended, the Celestials were all but pretty much extinct. The Celestial Killers were scattered across reality, sealed away so no one could ever use them again.

With his race gone and his purpose shattered, Cora found himself abandoned by the only home he had ever known. 6792, imprisoned long before these events, was unreachable. The high-ranking angels, fearful, resentful, and disgusted, declared the Celestials a stain upon Heaven's history. Their very existence was erased from sacred records. Cora was banished permanently, forbidden from ever entering Heaven again.

For trillions upon trillions of years after the Celestials' extinction, Cora wandered alone. The Creator had long since departed, leaving the Multiverse to sprawl as the sandbox that it is. Cora's existence became one of drifting through realities, observing civilizations he would never belong to. For the first time in his existence, he felt the crushing burden of immortality. Even worse, he began to feel something alien to him; Grief.

He despised what he had been forced to become. He never chose destruction; he only obeyed to avoid being smitten and because he revered the Creator, despite everything. The guilt clung to him like a second skin, pressing down with cosmic weight. To escape his suffering, he would sometimes sleep for incomprehensible stretches of time, literal sextillions of years passing between each moment of waking. His spaceship, now his only companion, drifted through the void on autopilot, maintaining itself while its captain hid within dreamless oblivion.

When awake, he sought distraction wherever he could. Though the bloodlust of his Celestial nature still lingered, he refused to harm another world again. Instead, he turned to exploration, traveling to strange planets, encountering bizarre lifeforms, fighting creatures only for survival or sport, and occasionally forming bonds with individuals he met along the way. His circle of friends was small, fragile, and fleeting. Most were mortals, and Cora watched each one of them die, again and again, across endless spans of time.

His immortality meant he would outlast everything and everyone he held dear, and with every passing epoch the truth of this became heavier, colder, more suffocating. The weight of eternity pressed against him like a slow-crushing vice. As aeons trickled by, the grief compounded, layering itself within him. Time itself had lost its meaning for him a long time ago, becoming only a vast, formless ocean he floated through without direction or desire. Yet the current of existence pushed him forward all the same.

And so, Cora just kept wandering, until eventually he found himself drifting into Universe 29510. He had no grand purpose upon arrival, only a vague pull toward motion, toward distraction. He sought a quiet planet, peaceful enough to still his restless thoughts yet lively enough to offer a spark of something different. He landed upon a world green with life and unscarred by any sorta cosmic conflict. What he sought was merely a momentary thrill, a brief reprieve from the monotony of existence. What he found instead would alter the trajectory of his life.

Her name was Diana. She was a beautiful pink anthropomorphic alien fox, delicate yet vibrant, with eyes that gleamed like twin nebulae and a presence that radiated warmth. She was, by pure coincidence, a strangely perfect match for Cora. For by this stage in his life, his own form too had long since settled into the shape of a towering foxlike being. Their encounter was abrupt, almost absurdly mundane given Cora's impossible age: a meeting in a quiet, distant forest where he had chosen to wander alone.

Diana spotted him first. She paused mid-step, staring openly. Something in Cora's presence, something ancient yet gentle, resonated with her, and she approached without hesitation. Cora, startled that a mortal would dare draw near without trembling, found himself returning her greeting. His voice, deep and timeless, surprised even him with how long it had been since he'd spoken it so casually.

Despite both being anthropomorphic foxes in appearance, Cora was undeniably otherworldly. Standing 7'7", built with dense muscle from millennia of surviving so much shit, he towered over any ordinary being. Yet Diana was not intimidated in the slightest. She sensed a quiet sorrow beneath his immense physical presence, and she treated him not as a monster or legend but as a person. Their conversation flowed naturally, astonishingly so, and for the first time in a very long time, Cora felt something soften inside him.

Their bond grew quickly. Diana invited him back to her home, offering tea, comfort, and the kind of simple domestic warmth Cora hadn't felt since before the Celestial Wars. They talked for hours, about her world, about his wandering, about everything and nothing. And that night, their connection deepened into something intimate and tender. Something that made Cora want to stay.

Years passed, shaped by shared experiences, learning, laughter, and quiet understanding. Cora eventually revealed the full truth of who he was of course... His origins, his past, the destruction he had once wrought, that pain and suffering he brought to so many, and the tragedies he himself endured. Yet, Diana never recoiled. She never feared him. She saw in him a being who had been denied love, denied peace, denied a home, despite all he had tried to be. She saw not a killer, but a soul who had never been given the chance to simply just, live.

Their relationship blossomed into a love deeper and more sincere than anything Cora had ever known. Marriage followed naturally, a sacred bond that lasted nearly ninety-three years. To Cora, those decades were more precious than entire universes or just, planets, that he had seen rise and fall. She became his anchor, his purpose, the living reminder that even an eternal being could feel joy.

But mortals are bound by time, and time is not kind.

Diana grew old of course, her once-bright energy fading like a star approaching its final collapse. Cora remained devoted to her, staying at her side through every moment of decline. When she drew her final breath upon her deathbed, her hand in his, something inside Cora shattered beyond repair. Her death left a void within him, deeper than anything he had ever felt.

Grief consumed him entirely. And grief, when paired with immortality, becomes something monstrous. Cora could not accept the fact she was dead. He refused to believe that someone who had brought such purity into his life could simply cease to exist. His desperation drove him into madness, and madness drove him into action.

He began a quest that stretched across the Multiverse, through forgotten kingdoms, cursed dimensions, secret libraries of forbidden, ancient magic, and the ruins of dead gods just about as old as he was. He interrogated cosmic entities that were now just scared of him by this point, facing their trials that would have eviscerated any lesser being. His sanity frayed, but his determination never wavered. Diana had been his heart, and he would tear apart every layer of reality if it meant finding her soul.

Cora even broke into Heaven itself. Fueled by anguish, he swatted aside angels as if they were nothing more than dust motes. He demanded answers, screamed for guidance, searched desperately for any trace of Diana's presence. But Heaven offered him nothing. No answers, no mercy. Only hostility. The angels eventually overpowered him, banishing him yet again with even greater disdain, their hatred for him solidifying further.

His search continued until it led him to Limbo, a realm beneath even Hell, a desolate plane where lost souls wander endlessly, drained of identity and hope. Cora spent millennia there, trudging through barren wastelands and echoing voids. Limbo's distorted sense of time stretched each moment into agonizing eternities. He called her name into the void until his voice cracked. He searched every abyss, every haunted plain, every twisted approximation of a world. But Diana was nowhere.

Eventually, despair swallowed him whole. In a final, desperate effort to end his life, Cora hurled himself into the Oceans of Limbo. He hoped the depths would claim him, end him, free him from his pain.

But death refused him.

Instead, the churning abyss disgorged him into a realm beyond understanding, it as known as the Backrooms.

It was an endless maze of rotting yellow halls, buzzing lights, and predatory shadows. Cora was stripped of every illusion of security. The Backrooms were not merely outside reality; they were beyond it, literally, behind it, a glitch in the cosmic fabric where natural law itself failed. He had heard rumors of such a place but never believed them to actually be real.

Lost and disoriented, he wandered. Hours bled into days. Days bled into a haze of dread. Eventually, one of the entities found him and attacked.

The battle was vicious and unrelenting. The creature tore his flesh with ease, battered his body, and ripped one of his eyes clean from its socket. Cora fought with a desperation he had not felt since the rebellion, and though he ultimately destroyed the monstrosity, the damage was permanent. The scars, both physical and psychological etched themselves into him forever. His time in the Backrooms haunted him for ages afterward, a reminder that even gods could bleed.

When he finally escaped, stumbling back into a universe that felt painfully normal by comparison, Cora realized the truth he had been running from. Diana was just, gone. Her soul was nowhere within the reach of his power. Whether she resided in Heaven or had transcended entirely, he would never really get to know.

This realization hollowed him. Yet it also began to free him.

For the first time since her death, Cora stopped searching backward. He forced himself to look forward, even if only a little at a time. His purpose shifted. His grief no longer fueled a crusade but instead a quiet, reluctant acceptance.

Alas, time continued to pass, and memories of ancient ages dissolved into myth, Cora began to feel a profound shift within himself. For longer than mortals could measure, he had been known as a weapon of death. His bloodlust had once been instinctive, embedded into him by nature and design, yet his soul had long since outgrown that purpose. The overwhelming grief that had marked so much of his eternal existence, grief for Diana, for his Creator, and for the countless lives torn away around him, slowly began to ebb. In its place rose something unexpected and powerful. He wished to be a protector again, a guardian rather than an executioner.

Cora resolved to take his power and turn it toward something meaningful. He no longer sought the end of civilizations or the obliteration of those who opposed him. Instead, he sought redemption, purpose, and the chance to rewrite the legacy that history had forced upon him. He yearned to protect those who could not protect themselves, to defend mortals and innocents he had once been destined to destroy. Yet he knew this mission could not be undertaken alone. The Multiverse was too vast, too chaotic, too endlessly dangerous. To make a lasting difference, he needed allies who could match him not just in power, but in conviction, resolve, and spirit.

Thus, he conceived a bold idea: The creation of a unified force, a collective of powerful and extraordinary individuals drawn from across the entire Multiverse. They would share a common goal; To preserve life's sanctity, to guard the innocent, and to prevent the horrors of chaos and destruction that had once been his own very domain.

It was an undertaking unlike any Cora had ever attempted. Interacting with others had never been his strength; his intimidating aura and immense power made most beings wary or outright fearful... That, and he just sucked at talking to people. But though his ancient reputation had faded into dust for the majority of the cosmos, there still might be silent pockets of reality where whispers of the Celestials persisted. But given the incomprehensible gulf of time that had passed, it was doubtful anyone remained alive who truly remembered the truth. His story was buried deeper than history itself.

Despite his doubts, Cora pressed forward. With each journey across dimensions, timelines, and fractured realms, he encountered beings of staggering power, brilliance, and potential. And slowly but surely, he began assembling what would one day be known as The Wayfarers. Each member brought something irreplaceable to the team, forming a coalition that stood as the first and last line of defense for the Multiverse.

The creation of this team was a monumental triumph for Cora, but their true journey had only just begun. The Multiverse was an impossibly vast expanse, filled with dangers lurking in every shadow, every timeline, every forgotten realm. As they fought to protect worlds that had no idea they were in danger, Cora and his companions faced unfathomable enemies, all within only the first decade of The Wayfarers' existence.

There was Vireya, the tyrannical Celestial hybrid warlord and leader of the Shadow Federation, whose empire spanned countless universes. IQ Gabriel, a calculating genius from the species known as Gabriels, an unstoppable tactician who set his sights on Earth itself. And there was Wafu, a monstrously engineered Greninja, a living nightmare of bio-genetic horror, nearly indestructible and driven by a hatred that defied reason. Even 6792 returned as an adversary for a time, consumed by resentment over Cora's ignorance of his long imprisonment, even though he had to realize Cora literally just, didn't know.

Throughout these trials, The Wayfarers operated from the shadows, unseen guardians whose victories were rarely celebrated and often never even known. To Cora, this anonymity was irrelevant. What mattered was the preservation of life, that quiet assurance that fewer innocents would suffer the fate he once brought upon entire civilizations. Over time, The Wayfarers became more than a team, they became a symbol and a family; That even in the darkest corners of creation, there existed those who would stand against oblivion.

Cora took immense pride in what his team had become. The friendships he forged with its members mended wounds he had carried for ages, wounds carved by solitude, trauma, and loss. He began developing an actual personality once again, a sense of humanity he thought he had lost forever. Being treated like a normal person meant more to him than any victory.

Though the pain of losing so much would never fully fade, the bonds he now shared with his team gave him a renewed sense of purpose. Leading The Wayfarers was the forging of a new legacy, one built upon safeguarding life rather than ending it. And together, they would confront whatever horrors the Multiverse hurled their way, one villainous bastard at a time.