Ancestral Lineage

Ethan stood suspended in the sky, the winds of the Labyrinth Grove whispering through his blazer as his golden eyes stared into the distance. The weight of the memories he'd absorbed swirled within him like gravity—dense, endless, and overwhelming. These weren't tales of victory and honor. No. They were the truths behind creation, war, failure, and transcendence. They were the legacies of the Primordials—the ones who had come before him. His ancestors.

And through these memories, one thing had become glaringly clear:

The power system of the world... was flawed.

Weak. Obsolete.

Compared to what the Primordials once wielded, what the Chosen had awakened into, this world—his world—was fighting with wooden swords against cannons.

Of course, there were outliers. Himself. Those linked to him through blood or spirit. He'd bent the system for them, helped them evolve. But the rest of the world?

"They won't survive what's coming," he muttered.

If a conflict were to erupt with any of the other planets—planets that followed the Primordial model of cultivation and advancement—this world would crumble. Gassendi, as it was called now, had no foundation. No defense.

And yet… Old Gassendi—the Beast Plane—stood out like an ancient titan among children. It had the numbers, the raw potential, the violence to forge greatness. The creatures and people there were born from the blueprint of Gassendi's primal chaos. And yet, even they lacked certain... catalysts. Catalysts that could've made them evolve faster.

"Still… they were strong," Ethan admitted with a low breath. "Strong enough to threaten even me, despite the flaws."

Stronger still was the realization that he had never, not truly, faced a True Saint—aside from one.

Only one bore that mark in full.Only one had mastered her essence to such an extent that she became it.

Barki. The Dragon Ruler of Flame and Fire.His wife.

She was beyond terrifying—an inferno given thought. She didn't wear her Saint Form like armor. It was her. A dragon, forged of divine flame. Pure, eternal, and untouchable.

He chuckled softly at the memory of her sleeping beside him—peaceful and deadly, her breath hot enough to ignite worlds.

The others? Pretenders.False Saints.Beginners toeing the edge of true transcendence.

His fingers curled slightly as he examined his own being.

"What would my True Saint Form be?" he wondered aloud.

A human.Then a vampire.Then a dwarf.

Each change, each evolution, had altered him fundamentally. Would his Saint Form merge them all? Would it shift depending on his choices? Would he have multiple forms?

"Or maybe… I'll be something new entirely," he mused, the thought thrilling him.

But he pushed it aside. That revelation would come later.

For now, he had achieved what he came for.

He looked down at the Labyrinth Grove. It no longer bore the scars of his past. It had been transformed into a glowing sigil—a luminous blue map of the Beast Plane, carved into reality itself. A mirror to the one he'd etched into Anbord within the Beast Plane. Two worlds. Two seals. Connected by purpose.

He rose higher, stretching his limbs. His back popped audibly as power flowed back into his body.

"Now that was a good exercise."

But something shifted.

His golden eyes flashed—suddenly, briefly—pink.

He blinked.

"...Pink?" he whispered.

That wasn't just a trick of the light. That color meant only one thing now.

"Soulmate," he said, voice low.

A new one.

Or perhaps one that had already arrived?

He tilted his head, amused.

"Just how many are there still?" he asked the empty sky. "Is Fate just tossing them at me now?"

He didn't sound upset. In fact, there was something mischievous—almost greedy—in his smile.

"Not like I mind. I've still got... a lot to give.""Who knows? Maybe I'll finally get a milf. Hehehe..."

That last chuckle echoed with such wicked amusement that the Grimoire of Order, which had been floating at his side like a loyal guardian, immediately vanished in a shimmer of embarrassed silence.

"Hmph. No sense of humor," he muttered, smirking.

But inwardly, his mind was already preparing.

For the next arrival.For what Fate had spun for him.

Because Fate—the Concept, the entity that had toyed with gods and Primordials alike—was watching him. Always. And while Ethan might not fully understand her motives…

He was ready to meet her pieces.

And if this soulmate was one of them?

Then Fate had just invited the wrong man to her game.

Or perhaps... exactly the right one.

...

In a place far removed from Ethan—far even from reality itself—a being floated in silence.

Around her, massive gears spun without sound, their polished steel surfaces catching soft glows from countless floating holographic screens. Glyphs danced across translucent panes, ticking away in an ever-evolving rhythm of blue light. Every pulse of illumination, every rotation of a cog, seemed to breathe in perfect synchrony with Time itself.

This realm was mechanical, divine, and infinitely still.

Time was not her enemy. Time... was her domain.

She sat amidst it all—bare and radiant.

Her skin shimmered like liquid silver, adorned with elegant cybernetic markings that traced her figure like divine tattoos—alive, shifting, breathing. Her hair cascaded past her shoulders like spun moonlight, flowing down to her waist in elegant streams of silvery-white. Her eyes, deep and mechanical blue, pulsed like twin chrono-cores—eyes that had seen every second before it was born.

Her ears were long, elf-like, carved in perfect symmetry.

She was naked, but not in shame. She wore her being as her garment, her long silver locks cloaking her ample chest as she sat upon a throne of light and silence. Her beauty was cold, clinical, and impossibly alluring. Her body was smooth, unblemished, the form of a goddess, yet there was a soft sadness in her stillness—like a perfect machine waiting for a command that had not come in a long time.

And then—her lips curved upward.

A small, quiet smile.

Her eyes, shimmering with cosmic clarity, suddenly pulsed pink.

"It's time," she whispered, her voice melodic, a harmony of steel and silk. "I wonder... how he will react."

A dark blue portal shimmered beside her, swirling with complex symbols—clockwork and starlight. She rose, uncoiling from her throne like a goddess waking from centuries of slumber. Her movement was slow, graceful—each step rewriting reality beneath her feet.

Her long hair shifted like living light, trailing behind her. Her rear swayed with each step, firm and bouncy, the kind of beauty born of divine design. She looked like she was in her mid-thirties—the very definition of a celestial MILF, if such a title could ever be made holy.

As she neared the portal, her body shimmered.

"Cybernetics... later," she said quietly, her voice firm. "For now, Chronomancy is enough."

Her form shimmered again.

The silver skin darkened, transforming into a rich honey-brown hue. Still flawless. Still radiant. Her cybernetic markings faded into her flesh, now dormant. Her hair retained its length but grew whiter, like purified starlight. Her beauty had changed—not diminished. Now warm, ethereal, soul-deep. No less divine, just... softer.

She was no longer the cold mechanic goddess.

She was Asteria.

The name he had given her.The name she had clung to when the world forgot her.The name that broke the cycle and made her choose life once more.

And now, she was returning—to her rightful place.

She stepped through the portal, and as she vanished into the swirling depths, her realm—the divine chrono-engine that had held her for so long—shimmered for one final moment.

Then, it too disappeared, folding itself into the void, as if it had never been.

Only a whisper remained in the dark.

"Asteria..."

...

High above the vast empire of Anbord, seated on nothing but air and silence, Ethan hovered in stillness.

The sun bathed the lands below in gold, but he paid it no mind. His red hair rippled behind him like liquid flame, glinting with a soft internal glow. His posture was relaxed, legs crossed, elbows on knees—but his eyes… those golden eyes pulsed gently, betraying the war inside him. He was waiting. Not just for anyone.

He was waiting for her.

And right on time—as if the cosmos aligned to her will—a portal tore the skies open.

It was vast. It shimmered with dark blue radiance, layered with temporal runes and cosmic gears that spun in harmony. It should have been seen by the entire world—a second sky, a devouring star—but none looked up. None noticed.

Except for one man.

Zark.

"So… she's finally back."

He said.

Then she stepped through.

Asteria.

Every step she took from the portal was a ripple in the sea of time. Her very existence shimmered—too real, too absolute for the world around her. Her long white hair flowed in a cascade of ethereal silk, veiling her towering figure in graceful motion. She stood at 7'1, statuesque yet fluid, with curves divine and presence undeniable. Her honey brown skin glowed with inner radiance, while hints of her true silver origin flickered beneath, like stars blinking through flesh.

Despite being unclothed, her hair and the sheer awe she radiated served as her only attire, weaving mystery rather than modesty.

And yet, only one man in the world saw her.

Ethan.

He hadn't turned. Not yet.

His entire body was tensed, his every nerve aflame. Her presence washed over him like a tidal wave. He knew she was there—felt her before she ever arrived. Her charm wasn't physical—it was woven into his soul. As her soulmate, every part of him reacted to her presence.

"You feel familiar… like I know you," Ethan said softly, not looking back. His voice was quiet—neither regal nor dramatic. It trembled ever so slightly, the kind of tremble you only hear when someone holds back a flood.

She smiled gently.

"You gave me a name, remember?" Asteria's voice was a melody—time laced with tenderness. "You can't forget me, Ethan."

That voice.He froze.Memories—all of them—slammed into him like gravity returning to a drifting body.

"A… Asteria?" he whispered, his golden eyes wide as his body turned slowly, unable to stop himself anymore.

And there she was.

Her expression mischievous, her tongue sticking out with a little grin.

"Did you miss me, honey?" she teased.

That did it.

The strongest being in Anbord, the Crimson Emperor, the savior of the Beast Plane and wielder of saintly powers—collapsed on the spot, a single line of crimson dripping from his nose.

He floated face-up in the air, arms slack at his sides, expression dazed.

"Damn it…" he muttered before slipping into unconsciousness.