Ancestral Lineage

Later that evening, the grand halls of the mansion quieted. Most of the family had dispersed after the overwhelming reunion, leaving behind a still air of warmth and nostalgia.

In a wide, dimly lit room that overlooked the moonlit courtyard, Ethan sat with his closest loved ones—his wives, his children, Trevor, Lamair, Zark, and Madeleine. The room was cozy yet elegant, filled with velvet cushions, glowing lightstones on the walls, and a gentle fire crackling in the hearth.

Ethan leaned back in his seat, a simple wooden armchair carved by Galeno long ago. He still wore the same casual outfit—lime green blazer and shorts—but there was a soft glow to him now, a gentle radiance that didn't demand attention but commanded respect.

On the long couch beside him, Regnare, his eldest son, sat cross-legged, eyes wide with awe, while little Delphina sat curled up in his lap. Devon, Eric, Ericson, Werock, and Ivy gathered around on the carpeted floor, listening to him as if he were reciting a bedtime story—but this was no fairytale.

"So," Ethan said, holding a mug of warm herbal tea. "You all really believed the Mountain of Deities had treasure inside?"

The kids all nodded furiously.

"It glowed at night!" Ericson defended. "And the top was always hidden in clouds. That's classic legendary treasure design!"

Ethan chuckled, sipping from his mug. "Well, sorry to disappoint. That was Galeno napping."

"Ehhhhhh?!" the children chorused.

"Figures," Trevor muttered from his corner, arms folded, leaning against the window frame. "That lazy tortoise probably didn't even know he was a continent-wide tourist attraction."

Zark, who had remained silent for a while, finally spoke, voice low and thoughtful. "You've changed, son."

"I have," Ethan replied with a small nod. "The Beast Plane was… a trial. But also a revelation."

He looked around the room—his wives, sitting in a semicircle close to him, each wearing expressions of worry, pride, and love; his siblings, leaning in quietly; his parents, still processing the sheer scope of what he'd become.

"Out there, I didn't have the comfort of titles. I didn't have a throne or armies to back me. But I gained… people. Friends. A family. I built something. Something real." He paused. "And I realized that my duty is greater than just here or there. It's to both."

Madeleine—his mother—spoke gently. "You wish to connect the two realms."

Ethan nodded.

"I will. But it must be done carefully. Old Gassendi is powerful, wild, and sacred. I've planted seeds there, metaphorically and literally. The Will Clan will blossom—but they'll need time and strength."

"And you?" asked Lamair, his deep voice quiet.

"I'll be needed in both places." Ethan looked down into his mug. "That's the curse of kingship, I guess. You belong to everyone—and everywhere."

Silence lingered, heavy with understanding.

Then a small voice broke through.

"…Will you stay the night?" Delphina asked from his lap, her small hand tugging his sleeve.

Ethan blinked.

"…Of course," he said gently, setting the mug aside and lifting her into his arms. "I'll tuck you all in. And tomorrow, we'll have breakfast together. Pancakes, even."

"Yaaay!" the younger children cheered, scattering like happy wolves to their rooms.

Ethan stood and turned to his wives.

"I'll come to each of you tonight," he said softly. "I missed you all."

"We missed you more," whispered one of them, her voice trembling as she clutched his hand.

Ethan gave her a quiet look and squeezed her fingers.

Trevor remained at the door, watching his brother lead the little ones down the hallway.

"…You saw it, didn't you?" Lamair asked Zark as Ethan disappeared from view.

"The divine aura?" Zark replied with a slight smirk. "Yes."

"…He's no longer just a king," Lamair murmured.

"No," Zark said, eyes distant. "He's something far more dangerous."

"I still have something to do. I'll be back soon—in an hour or two."Ethan's voice echoed like a fading echo within the tranquil room just after his figure vanished into swirling motes of light.

He reappeared in the Labyrinth Grove, a place etched into the roots of his soul—where once chaos had ruled, and where fate had twisted lives irreversibly. This was the sacred ground where Tyrant had fallen beneath his wrath, where Lamair had perished only to be dragged back by Ethan's power as a ghoul, a brother reborn from death.

Though the Labyrinth Grove looked altered now—lush, pulsing with a deeper, almost spiritual resonance—it was still the same to him. Familiar yet foreign. Ancient yet eternal. The labyrinth no longer pulsed with madness, but with a somber reverence. And Ethan floated above it, alone, invisible to the world below. His senses blanketed the entire forest like an unseen deity.

No creatures stirred. No spirits called.

He remained suspended for a long moment, taking in the silence.

Then, he sat cross-legged in the air, the winds gently rippling around his body. His aura, which usually burned with gold-crimson brilliance, slowly folded into him, compressing until it vanished entirely.

A change began.

His golden eyes shimmered once... then flickered... then settled into a tranquil green—the color they had been when he was nobody.

His skin darkened into a healthy tan, his sharp, divine features dulled ever so slightly into something human. His horns retracted, his ears rounded, and all celestial traces faded.

Only Ethan remained.

"To connect to the world... you must connect with your core,"he murmured, eyes closed, recalling a memory whispered to him from the Grimoire of Order—a memory not of his own, but of his ancestors, those who had walked similar paths between godhood and mortality.

This was not power.

This was balance.

A harmony few could ever achieve.

...

A Century Later…

Time, to mortals, is a river.To the Chosen, it had become a still lake—serene on the surface, yet bottomless.

A celestial plateau floated within the starless skies of an isolated dimension.Here, seven figures sat in silent cultivation, their auras restrained but unmistakably divine.They formed a seven-pointed star, each point pulsing with quiet omnipotence.

From each of them, no-colored pillars of power erupted—raw, unfiltered god-essence. These were not elemental or spiritual. They were pure will, shaped through god-art mastery and divine cultivation.

At the center sat Vorden Brimestone, the once-shadow warrior now a near-divine force, surrounded by artims flickering with impossible hues. He was no longer just a Paladin, nor a wielder of Shadow and Transfiguration—he had become the closest thing to a god among mortals, only a breath away from ascending.

At his side—Alma, his wife and rival, her twin swords laid before her, glowing with the Wind God-Art. Her strength was equal to his in combat, their bond a union of cold resolve and warm ambition.

Lith, now a feline beastkin, was a walking contradiction—playful yet monstrous, curious yet terrifying. His experiments had forever altered him, granting him abilities no classification could contain. With Emma, his beloved, by his side, he remained the ever-watchful storm.

Radar sat opposite Keira, the vampire noble who had bound herself not by blood, but by love to a dwarf. Together, they created a resonance of Earth and Blood, solid and eternal.

Kira sat calmly, beside his twin, his own Blood resonating with that of his twin.

Kyle, the last, sat in quiet confidence, the embodiment of discipline and growth. His power no longer required validation. He simply was.

These were The Chosen—beings marked by the universe itself, wielders of multiple god-arts, cultivators of god-essence, seekers of peace and protectors of order.

They were no longer students.No longer soldiers.They were legends in the making.

And as they meditated, the world trembled softly—aware that soon, something would change.

That soon, gods would walk again.