Ancestral Lineage

The skies above the Will Citadel darkened—not with storm clouds, but with power. The Spirit Beasts stood silently along the perimeter. Queen Ashtora, Urrandel, and the tribal elders had gathered at the edge of the Grand Altar Plateau, their breaths held.

Ethan stood alone at the center, barefoot, eyes closed, and arms gently raised to the skies.

From his back, two sigils blazed—one glowing white-gold, shaped like a radiant sunburst (Creation), and the other a deep green-violet, shaped like a spiraling helix (Alchemy).

A low hum filled the air.

The very fabric of the Will Planes began to respond.

"This land has given me sanctuary, loyalty, and strength," Ethan whispered, his voice echoing into the mountains and valleys. "Now, let me return the favor."

His foot tapped once on the ground, and the earth trembled.

Then it began.

Golden veins of light shot from beneath Ethan's feet, streaking through the soil like glowing rivers. Wherever they passed, the land bloomed.

Alchemy worked first, transmuting dead lands into vibrant loam, converting broken rocks into clusters of ore-rich mountains. Toxic regions purged themselves of corruption, replaced by crystalline hills, their structures humming with pure energy.

Creation followed—summoning entirely new ecosystems, unseen before even in myth. Floating lotus isles rose over mirrored lakes. Vines of living stardust weaved into the sky, birthing fruits infused with elemental essence. Trees thousands of feet tall emerged from nothingness, their bark humming with blood, sound, and psychic resonance.

Mountains lifted. Rivers rerouted. Spirit-rich groves appeared like constellations on land.

Spirit Beasts howled in reverence.

Onyx, Saareiya, Galeno, and the others knelt without being asked. The very laws of the Beast Plane were shifting.

"Let this be the Cradle of Sovereignty," Ethan declared. "A land that evolves with its people. That empowers the loyal and breaks the wicked."

Alchemy circles spiraled into the sky, colliding with the white radiance of his Creation magic. They merged into a dome of silver-gold light that covered the entire Will Clan territory. A whisper traveled through it—divine, binding.

And then, from the depths of the transformed land, new ores and rare plants emerged.

Solarite Crystals that enhanced elemental potential.

Bloodroot Trees that extended lifespans and power affinity resonance.

Aetherglass Waterfalls that rejuvenated mana faster than any known potion.

Mimic Vines capable of training one's muscle memory by replicating combat movements.

And most terrifying of all: Genesis Stones — mysterious ore fragments that could evolve a beast or humanoid's very bloodline.

As the light receded, the air felt different.

Fresher. Wilder. Ancient.

Ethan lowered his arms and opened his eyes, now glowing softly with divine white and radiant emerald.

He turned to the stunned crowd. "Now the Will Planes will be more than a sanctuary. It will be the crucible of gods."

Silence.

Then Urrandel fell to one knee.

Followed by Ashtora. Then every elder. Every spirit beast. Every witness.

A land reborn.

A king who created it.

And a war not yet begun.

The sky above the newly born Will Planes had not returned to its previous state. Instead, it shimmered with a soft, ethereal glow — like the heavens themselves had marked this land as sacred.

For days following Ethan's transfiguration of the land, strange phenomena began to surface.

In the training fields, Laurie, one of the rising warriors of the Will Clan, grasped a Genesis Stone for the first time. Her aura flared wildly, shifting — from pure Fire to a dual resonance of Fire and Gravity.

She collapsed, shaking as her bloodlines clashed and then fused.

When she rose, her body pulsed with new, dense strength. "I feel… different," she whispered. "Like I'm becoming who I was meant to be."

Elsewhere, spirit beasts howled beneath the Aetherglass Falls. Stygian, the three-headed Cerberus, absorbed the river's magic, and for the first time, his middle head began to speak — revealing a seer's voice.

"I see war on the horizon."

In the Groves of Mimicry, young warriors fought against the living vines, mimicking their styles. In a week, one trainee mastered a martial art that should have taken ten years. The vines whispered, "Only the worthy shall be perfected."

And the Solarite Crystals began being carved into weapons — swords that could store and amplify god-arts, armors that adapted to their wearer's magic.

Even elders — once thought to have reached their peaks — were now growing stronger.

...

Far beyond the Will Planes…

In the floating citadel of the Sky Seraphim, a woman in golden robes dropped her chalice.

"It has awakened," she muttered. "The Cradle of Sovereignty… It's real."

In the Rode Hives, the lesser vampire high lords watched through crystal mirrors.

"That brat, whoever he is, was involved in this," the queen hissed.

And in the furthest realms, deep within the Underveil, an ancient, slumbering being — wrapped in chains and sealed beneath black water — opened one eye.

"Chorine's Will… again?" it murmured. "Then the Sovereign walks again."

Tribes across the Beast Plane — even those once hostile — sent spies, scouts, and envoys to observe the Will Planes.

They were stunned by what they saw.

Where barren plains once stood, lush territories of divine energy pulsed. Crops grew in days. Magical beasts now birthed litters twice as strong. Rogue elemental storms began shifting their paths away from the Will territory, as if avoiding a higher presence.

A young beastling from a rogue pride knelt in the forest after feeling Ethan's aura. "Is this... god?"

Inside the palace, Ethan stood before a massive crystal map, his hand tracing the borders of Old Gassendi.

His eyes were calm, but his aura flared with divine certainty.

"They will come. Whether from envy, fear, or ambition… They will come."

Urrandel, standing beside him, nodded. "We will be ready."

"Good. We have six months. In that time… I want a system in place. New training regimes. Resource control. Forge alliances with the minor tribes that show loyalty."

"Yes, my king."

Ethan turned. "And send a message to all races — human, beast, spirit, or cursed. The Will Clan is not just a force of power…"

He raised his hand, and the golden sigil of the Beast Plane appeared behind him again, now fused with a swirling white core of Creation.

"…It is the force of destiny."