Chapter 471: The Dawn of Existence
Eons ago, before existence had form, before even the first breath stirred across the void, there were the Celestials.
Six beings beyond comprehension — entities that existed outside even the concept of existence. In the endless silence of the nothingness, they were. They did not live, nor die, nor change, as mortal minds understand it. They simply existed — pure and infinite.
In their boundless will, they forged the primal forces — ti, space, and matter — the pillars upon which all things would one day stand. These were no re tools to them; they were manifestations of thought, dreams made tangible. With their power intertwined, they brought forth life, worlds, solar systems, galaxies, universes, and finally, the boundless multiverse itself.
They were the architects of all creation, beings without na or flesh, beyond gender, beyond mortality, beyond even the divisions of form and void.
Althi they never gave any of their creations their nas, but as a ans to identify them, they were given titles.
1. Caelitas, Weaver of Ti
From Caelitas flowed the endless river of before and after, weaving monts into strands that stretched across eternity.
2. Vaelora, Shaper of Space
Vaelora unfolded the vastness, carving the concept of distance and breadth from pure nothingness.
3. Mordryn, Forgemaster of Matter
Mordryn breathed substance into the void, birthing stars, stone, fla, and flesh from the raw potential of unbeing.
4. Selvarin, Kindler of Soul
Selvarin sparked awareness, giving rise to thought, emotion, and the unseen tides of life that would one day stir in countless hearts.
5. Pyrithane, Warden of Power
Pyrithane suffused the cosmos with energy — the pulse that drives suns to burn, rivers to flow, and spirits to strive.
6. Nihryth, Arbiter of Reality
Nihryth laid the foundations of natural law — unseen yet unbreakable — ensuring creation did not collapse into chaos.
Together, the Six shaped all that would ever be, laying down the infinite scaffolding of reality.
And after such an endeavour they were tired and wished to rest, for what may have been an eternity.
Yet, the Celestials knew that the vastness they had brought forth could not be left untended.
To maintain the delicate harmony of existence, they created Gods — beings of imnse power, entrusted to watch over the worlds and guide the courses of life.
But gods, too, needed guidance. Thus, the Celestials shaped the Rulers, higher beings ant to oversee the gods themselves — ensuring that no divine hand grew too heavy or too weak.
Above even the Rulers, the Celestials appointed the Celestial Envoys — exalted emissaries tasked to oversee the Rulers, a final safeguard against imbalance.
Through these hierarchies, the Celestials wove a web of guardianship, law, and order, striving to ensure that the fragile beauty of creation would endure the ravages of ti in their absence.
However, as with all creators, curiosity and desire for entertainnt… or let’s say, a bedti story… began to stir within them.
Longing to witness struggle, growth, triumph, and tragedy beyond what re gods and mortals could provide, they fashioned a new kind of being: one that would exist in the space between the divine and the epheral.
Thus were born the Celestial Title Holders.
Neither fully mortal nor truly divine, these beings were granted a singular gift — the ability to grow without limit. Strength, wisdom, power, even dominion, give the right ti slay gods and take control over worlds — all could be attained without end, should they have the will to seize it.
So what exactly did it an to be a Celestial Title Holder?
To be a Celestial Title Holder was to bear the mark of a divine decree — a command written into the very blueprint of existence.
A Celestial Title is not a re blessing, nor a bestowal of power by favor or whim.
It is an absolute law, a declaration issued directly by one of the Six Celestials.
When a Celestial grants a Title, it is not simply spoken into being — it is woven into the very essence of the multiverse.
Once granted, the Title becos an unbreakable truth across all realities, all tilines, all worlds.
The bearer of a Celestial Title is, within the domain of that Title, undeniable and unstoppable.
Not gods, not fate, not ti itself, nor even the primal forces of creation, can overrule or resist the decree of a Title, so long as the bearer fulfills the conditions embedded within it.
For instance:
The Bearer of the title, ‘Star Born’ cannot die so long as a single star still burns within a galaxy.
A ‘Sovereign of Fla’ commands all fire; no being, divine or mortal, can oppose their will over fla unless they too bear a Celestial Title or wield power beyond the very laws of existence.
The conditions tied to each Title are critical.
A Title Holder may not be omnipotent at all tis; rather, when the rightful circumstances are t, they beco an incarnation of inevitability.
In that mont, defiance is impossible — for the law of reality itself bends to uphold the Celestial’s decree.
And thus began the Title Holder Wars — the cataclysmic, endless conflict that would echo through every corner of the multiverse.
Once the Celestial Title Holders were granted their decrees, sothing unexpected happened.
The Celestials, in their eternal curiosity, did not rely witness these beings from afar.
They desired more — more stories, more conflict, more drama.
So they gave their Title Holders the ultimate gift:
The ability to share fragnts of their vast authority with those who swore fealty to them.
To create their own domains, their own ‘Households’ — groups of mortal, divine, and even otherworldly beings who would fight, thrive, and perish in the na of their Title Holder.
Yet even within beings as grand and eternal as the Celestials, curiosity could prove a dangerous thing.
One among them — whose title was never specified, only whispered as The Silent One — was struck by a question no other dared to ponder:
“What does it an to truly die?”
Death, after all, was a concept they had created for mortals, for gods, even for entire worlds — but not for themselves.
They had existed before existence. How could they ever end?
Driven by an urge that defied understanding, The Silent One devised a terrible act of creation:
A god, unlike any other, whose sole purpose was to create a path to true annihilation.
To this god, The Silent One granted a Title so profound, so utterly forbidden, that even the other Celestials could not comprehend it.
A Title that wove into reality the concept of slaying the unkillable, the power to breach even existence itself.
The god, upon realizing the magnitude of the authority bestowed upon them, fulfilled the curiosity of their master.
And so, The Silent One died — slain by the very marvel they had created.
The remaining Celestials, beings who had never known fear, now stood aghast.
Not only had death co for one of their own, but they were powerless to prevent it.
The law of the Title — an absolute decree written into the fabric of all that was and could be — could not be revoked, not even by their collective will.
Desperate to preserve themselves, the Celestials sought to contain the god.
But the god, perhaps out of loyalty, perhaps out of malice, perhaps simply following the natural order of the Title itself — turned upon the rest of them.
And, one by one, the other Celestials fell.
None could resist. None could defy. Not Ti, not Space, not Matter, not even Reality itself.
The Title had made it so.
Why did the god betray the will of its master?
Was it ambition? Instinct? Or perhaps the Title itself had no master, recognizing only the grim fulfillnt of its purpose?
It remained unclear — lost to the broken echoes of a shattered eternity.
And even deeper mysteries lingered:
How could beings beyond existence even die?
What kind of Title could possibly allow such an impossible act?
What words were spoken into the void to bring forth a fate so absolute?
The answers to these questions, if they ever existed, were buried in the ruins of the multiverse’s mory.
But fate, as always, was not without its cruel humor.
Not long after the slaughter of the Celestials, the god — the First Title Holder who had slain the architects of all — t their own death at the hands of another.
Thus ended the reign of the god who killed the celestials.
The Dragon God, Sorack Hazenworth.
But his legacy did not die with him.
His Celestial Title, too imnse and too absolute to vanish, fractured upon his death — splitting into two shards:
One representing the power to end all existence.
The other the power to transcend existence entirely.
And from those shards… new legends would arise.
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