It was funny how the three Emperors of Iliaster look nothing like their respective human counterparts—whereas Antinomy and Paradox remained relatively untouched. The three of them were not a mechanical replica of a person: they were embodiments of despair—manifestations of a mortal man's grief.
Aporia had been uprooted from his childhood around his tenth birthday… it took him years before the shock and grief had thinned to a point where the bitterness he'd been harboring finally surfaced. Lucciano had been the manifestation of the bitterness Aporia felt for being uprooted from his childhood, as well as the desire to relive the innocence he had once knew. The playful sadism and shrieking cruelty exemplified the viewpoint that the entire world was a game. Human beings were toy soldiers Lucciano lined up in a row before knocking them down.
The bitterness disappeared when he met Eurea. She was so lively and bright, always happy, and her smiles eased the pain deep into his heart. So when he was on his knees, digging through the rubble and trying so hard to find the arm that was supposed to be attached to the torso of his love—he knew in his soul that the world was a cruel, relentless place. Placido was the manifestation of Aporia's anger at the world that cruelly snatched away the life of the only woman he ever loved. The instantaneous, almost automatic snap to even the smallest challenge of his authority. The pride. The strict adherence to predestination. Having been harshly uprooted from his childhood, Aporia never fully matured and turned out something akin to an emotionally stunted man-child. The effects were still seen in Placido—his impatience and petulance, his almost rebellious nature was a result of that.
As the seasons passed, his hair started to gray while the elder Aporia aimlessly wandered the ruined world. Turning his head to the stars, he would reflect on all that happened in the past sixty years and realize he couldn't save anyone. Perhaps it was because he was too rash? Ever since Eurea died, he would panic whenever he saw his comrades in danger and make hasty decisions that compromised his otherwise cool judgment—almost as if he was desperately trying to compensate for his failure, as if he told himself that saving X number of people would make right the first wrong he had ever done. Maybe, he told himself, maybe he should start to be more careful. Plan things out. Then Aporia stared at his old, wrinkled hand and wished he had been stronger—he had been someone else—someone with power and strength who was strong enough to grab the chains of destiny and break them in two. One who could control… the very same way he had such little control over his own mortal life. Thus was born Jose, the manifestation of Aporia's desire to redo his own history.
A/N: RIGHT, SO. Aporia's nameless lover actually has a name, according to one of the 5D's writer's tweet. Eurea or some sort of translation like that.