Ancestral Lineage

With their ascension, Vorden, Lith, Alma, Radar, Keira, Kira, and Kyle—once mere students and warriors, now Primordials—found themselves awakened not just in power, but in truth.

A truth so vast it crushed the mind… yet they now had minds vast enough to grasp it.

The moment their consciousnesses crossed into this higher strata, reality peeled back like curtains before the dawn. No longer bound by time, space, or form, their awareness expanded across planes, stars, and unspoken borders of the cosmos. They could see Gassendi—but not as the mortal world once knew it.

Gassendi was not a continent.Not a realm.Not even a planet.

It was a universe.

A universe with its own pulse and ancient rhythm. A cosmos layered with realms, each bearing intelligent life, elemental powers, and mysteries untouched even by gods. And Gassendi, as it was called by mortals, was but a fragment—a bubble in a sea of galaxies, dimensions, and truths.

And with their new understanding came the greatest revelation:

They were now at the summit of cosmic hierarchy.Above gods.Above races.

The only beings they bowed to now were not kings, not thrones, not ancestors or creators, but Concepts.

And these Concepts were not metaphors. They were beings.

They were Existence itself.

Existence… the word held weight, yet it was but a sliver of what it truly was.Existence was the source, the space, the breath, and the breathless.A being and a state, a presence and a void.

It did not speak.It existed.And within Existence spun its great children—Concepts born from the primal scream of birth and collapse.

There were many, but Seven made up its beating heart:

DEATH

A being of silence and shadow, yet never cruel. DEATH was the end of movement, the stillness of entropy.Decay. Rest. Return. Void.DEATH was the twin of LIFE, and it was more than skeletons and scythes.It was the peace that followed chaos. The silence after music.And all endings, even happy ones, belonged to DEATH.

LIFE

A force that did not breathe—it was breath.Creation, spirit, light, love, growth.LIFE shimmered with the energy of infinite beginnings, ever renewing itself.Where DEATH ended, LIFE began.They were not enemies. They were echoes of the same voice.

CHAOS

The unpredictable, the wild.CHAOS was madness, instability, distortion—but also freedom, rebellion, innovation.It danced with deception and sang with the tongues of liars and dreamers alike.It was pure unformed possibility.Terrifying. Liberating. Beautiful.

ORDER

Calm. Cold. Exact.ORDER stood opposite of CHAOS, yet always near.Not as a jailer—but as a spine.Without ORDER, even LIFE would spiral into oblivion.Without ORDER, time would bleed out and become meaningless.It was the law not of rulers, but of structure. Gravity. Pattern. Form.

INFINITY-FINALITY

They were twins, yet one.The beginning and the end—alpha and omega.Where Infinity dreamed of endless futures, Finality craved resolution.Together, they spun the loop that kept the universe from dissolving.Time exists because of them.So does narrative. So do cycles.

FATE

And then, there was FATE.Most confusing. Most powerful. Most delicate.FATE was the string between all things, the hidden code beneath the matrix of reality.FATE encompasses destiny, time, causality, coincidence, and even choice.

FATE was the ink of Existence's story.Neither good nor evil.Just inevitable.

Together, these Concepts were Existence. Not its rulers. Not its gods. Its bones.

And now, the Chosen had brushed their fingers against this sacred skeleton… and survived.

But it did more than elevate them—it changed them.

They no longer saw power as a tool.They understood what they were now.

Not just defenders.

Not just anomalies.

Not even just Primordials.

They were links.

They were the first of a new age, the foundations for a future where mortals could reach past the heavens and speak to Existence with voices of their own.

And the Concepts…They stirred.

Not in alarm.Not in hostility.

But out of curiosity.

Because they knew…

FATE had chosen.

And the Primordials were only the beginning.

The Primordials, once mortals shackled by fate and struggle, now stood as architects of reality itself.

They no longer questioned why they had ascended. They had lived through death, borne the burden of battle, felt the weight of leadership, and finally ascended beyond gods. With wisdom tempered by suffering and clarity forged through battle, they did what only a few could dare to dream:

They began to forge a new world.

But not just a world—a better universe.

A universe where their kin, their people, their loved ones would no longer suffer the way they once did. Some might call it selfish. Some might say they had chosen privilege over fairness. But those who bore the scars of eternity would understand:

Power without purpose is hollow.Power that abandons kin is treasonous.

Their families deserved the front seats of paradise.Period.

And so they split the universe of Gassendi—not destroyed, but reborn.

At the highest strata of existence, they forged the Divine Realm—a boundless sanctuary, where Primordials and their families resided. Only those directly linked to their eternal bloodlines could step into this realm, a place of perfect harmony and absolute freedom. Time bent around their will. Reality molded to thought. And here, they built a civilization of true peace.

It wasn't paradise by entitlement. It was earned.

Below the Divine Realm came the Plane of Heavens.

Here, the gods, both newborn and reincarnated, found their domain. Even the gods they had once defeated, broken, or lost to time, were offered sanctuary. Not out of pity, but to restore balance. Gods needed a place to exist—a plane where their worshipers could reach them, where divinity could flow once more without interference from higher realms.

It was a realm of veneration, of purpose, and of penance.

Then came the mortal lands, the planets, the worlds, each with their own rules, lifeforms, and cultures. These were built according to the Directives of Existence itself.

Vast territories, alien biomes, and multidimensional spheres now filled the cosmic web. And the Primordials watched over them not as tyrants—but as ancient architects. The path was paved. The stars were born anew.

But then came something more…

There was a project birthed not out of command, but out of understanding.

Not all descendants could live in the Divine Realm. Not all bore the strength or purity required. And to force them would upset the balance of the cosmos.

Balance, after all, was Vorden's domain—and he understood this deeply.

Thus, a world was forged:Old Gassendi, now known to Ethan as the Beast Plane.

Unlike the other realms, this world followed the laws of the past—the structure of mortality. A hybrid world of intelligent beasts, powerful people, alien beings, and mystical races. Its purpose was clear and singular:

To train the next generation.

A world of growth, of trial, of potential. A crucible.

To ensure this goal, a safeguard was created. A living system, intelligent and precise:

The Ancestral-line System, later known as the Grimoire of Order.

It was tasked to wander the cosmos, seeking out those with at least 30% of a Primordial's bloodline. When it found them, it would guide them, test them, and awaken their potential. From there, fate would take over.

And that… is where the complication began.

FATE moved.

She always does.

No one has ever seen her. Not truly. Not even the Primordials. But they feel her when she weaves.

The Concepts—Death, Life, Chaos, Order, Infinity-Finality, and Fate—do not possess form, but the Primordials, through intuition and attunement, perceived them.

To them, FATE was a woman.Bitchy. Unruly. Clever. Unrivaled.She never warned. Never explained. She simply… interfered.

She smiled, and the system fractured.She blinked, and the Divine Realm was attacked.

First came the gods, desperate to regain their relevance.Then came Zark, the Golden Emissary, his will manipulated.Then came Asteria, Vorden's daughter, pulled by strings she never saw.

Together, their actions almost succeeded in annihilating everything.

The Grimoire shattered.The Divine Realm cracked.Zark and Asteria died.

And FATE?

She just laughed.

But the Primordials weren't idle.

Even if pawns in her game, they were Primordials for a reason.

Radar, Primordial of Death, stepped forward.

Once a blacksmith. Now the arbiter of endings and transitions.

He rebuilt the system. Not from scraps—but from essence. He bargained with DEATH himself, pleading for the souls of Zark and Asteria.

He paid in power. Paid in memory.And finally, he succeeded.

The two would return, reincarnated into roles even grander than before. Their souls would guide the future bearers of the Primordial line. Not avatars—living echoes, crafted into the new system.

But they were still puppets in a greater game.

Because even now… FATE had the final hand.

And her interest?

Ethan.

Why?

No one knows.

But it was official now. Carved into the threads of causality and stitched into the fabric of Existence:

Ethan Smith is legally, spiritually, metaphysically, and irrevocably favored by FATE.

Whether this was blessing or curse…Only time would tell.

But one thing was certain:

The story… was only just beginning.