Luki, Oracle of Revergence, is a divine absurdity stitched into the surreal fabric of Earth: 2250—a sock-puppet prophet drifting through post-apocalyptic entropy with embroidered eyes that shimmer like collapsing stars. Woven by the chaotic will of Lasogette, Muse of Forgotten Laughter, Luki is a Sog—part relic, part oracle, wholly unhinged. They bear the sacred number 7777, a recursive symbol of infinite mirrors and unresolvable paradox. Armed not with weapons but with riddles, rhymes, and glitch-poetry, Luki traverses wastelands with a lute of broken tech and a gospel of laughter, planting confusion like seeds and harvesting epiphanies by accident. Their power, the Jewel-Self Echo, allows them to commune with infinite versions of themselves across the Karmic Grid—each version offering wisdom, delusion, or punchline at the least opportune moment. Luki is adored by some, feared by others, and understood by no one—not even themselves. Beneath the chaos is a deeper quest: the search for a single, unfractured self. Witty, empathic, unsettlingly sincere, Luki builds cults with memes, topples tyrants with lullabies, and delivers prophecies while high on spiritual ruin. Their flaw is not their madness—it is their sincerity. For in every revelation, every joke half-wrapped in cosmic truth, Luki is trying to save something: not the world, but themselves. Whether they become the harmonic axis of karmic unity or the final, unraveling joke of creation depends on one truth yet to be revealed: can a fragmented echo ever become whole? Until then, Luki wanders—dancing, singing, mutating—an agent of sacred nonsense in a world too serious to survive.