The creation of the sky and the earth, of light and darkness, of plants, animals, and finally of the human being.
The word Genesis comes from the ancient Greek "génesis" (γένεσις), meaning birth, origin, creation. It is the same term that gave rise to words such as generation, genetics, and to beget.
Genesis embodies the beginning — the origin of a thing, of a reality, of a dimension, or even of all existence. It marks the dawn of worlds, myths, and universes; the awakening of the living and the non-living, the emergence of the Delzluhud and the vast dimensions that compose it. It is the first heartbeat of the All, the point of expansion of all reality and all principle.
But beyond Genesis lies what the ancients called the Great Genesis:
the beginning of beginnings, that of the higher hierarchies and primordial entities.
For if there is a beginning for worlds and their laws, there must also be a beginning for the powers that transcend them.
These great mythical beings stand beyond worlds, beyond causality and laws.
They are meta-conceptual entities, founding powers whose mere existence conditions the order of lower realities.
They are not mere gods by name: they are the very principles of divinity.
From the Fourth Zone, from the First Suargaloka, and even atop the Primordial Void of Madhurya,
these entities govern, structure, and dream the foundations of existence.
They are the first causes; all geneses are but consequences of their existential conditionality.
By their breath, they shape worlds, dimensions, voids, and universes.
They dream the totality of realities, and the entire Genesis is contained within these dreams.
But just as they are capable of creating, they can also destroy.
Every Genesis carries within it its own end, and these beings can trigger the reversal of existence:
not a true annihilation, but a cosmic reset,
a destruction followed by renewal — the return to original purity before the rebirth of the All.
They use for this superior modes of action, beyond the comprehension of all mortals, even the highest.
There are several forms of Genesis, each expressing a distinct degree of divine will. Not all are equal, and some can only be understood as echoes of the Absolute.
Absolute Genesis is the most total of all:
a complete reset of creation.
In this act, all reality resulting from the "first Genesis" is erased,
and a new cosmic fabric succeeds it — with new laws, new constants, new histories.
It is an instant collapse and rebirth,
the lightning passage from the end to the recommencement,
as if the entire universe expired only to breathe again.
Through this Genesis, everything can be redone:
whether a Delzluhud, a dimension, or an entire universe,
everything obeys the sovereign will of Divinity.
Next comes Remodeling.
Here, Genesis is not total but progressive:
it acts in fragments, rewriting regions, epochs, or lines of existence in successive touches.
This process creates temporal mosaics, paradoxes,
zones where past and future intertwine in a dance of rewriting.
Then rises the Overlay, or Superimposed Genesis.
In this case, the new creation does not replace the old one in a single stroke:
it layers over it, like a fresh layer of reality spread over another.
The two worlds coexist, but the new one always ends up crushing the old,
except for certain anchor points —
"existence anchors" capable of resisting divine rewriting.
There is also Selective Annihilation,
a subtle form where the divinity targets only the abnormal aspects of a creation.
Anomalies, deviations, distortions of the real are erased —
their history torn from the world's fabric, replaced by a "corrected" version.
Reality then becomes pure, cleansed of its errors.
But above all these forms, there exists one that no other entity can manipulate,
a unique principle, a divine rewriting whose echo resonates even in primordial nothingness:
Retro-Genesis — The Cry of God
Also called the Cry of God, the End and the Renewal, or the Apocalypse of Renewal,
Retro-Genesis is the absolute end before the absolute recommencement.
It is the erasure of all things — not to punish, but to purify.
It leaves no memory, no trace, no reminiscence.
It is said that God Himself has activated Retro-Genesis countless times,
perhaps in cycles prior to any known Genesis but no one can be sure,
for no one can remember except Himself.
When Creation seemed to Him too heavy, too impure, too far from His design.
Then, weary of His own work, He would have decreed the end,
not out of anger, but out of the will to restart.
Thus was born the Cry of God,
the supreme vibration that tears the fabric of the real,
erasing worlds, souls, memories, and laws —
so that a new order, pure and luminous, may arise.
Retro-Genesis is superior to all other Genesises:
it does not rewrite, it recreates the origin of the origin itself,
bringing everything back to its pre-conceptual state,
where even nothingness did not yet exist.
It is the death and rebirth of the Absolute,
the heartbeat of the Divine through eternity.
When triggered, Retro-Genesis announces itself by a terrible cry, an echo of cosmic agony —
the Danmatsuma no Sakebi, the Cry of God.
It is not an ordinary sound but a resonance that pierces the very essence of all things,
a rumble like the roar of a monster or the friction of universes collapsing into each other.
This cry has neither direction nor limit: it resonates in the heart of existence.
Every being or non-being hears it.
The deaf perceive its vibration,
the unborn suffer its premonition,
and even gods feel its echo.
For this sound is the whisper of the end of a Genesis —
the ultimate signal announcing that all must vanish,
so that the way for a new beginning may open.
And no one is spared:
even the Great Mythical Beings,
those whose existence conditions worlds and laws,
are swallowed by the certainty of their extinction.
The Owari no Mahi — The Halt of Movement
Following the Cry, a phenomenon triggers automatically:
the Owari no Mahi, the Paralysis of the End.
In that instant, all autonomy is taken away.
Beings cease to move, not out of fear, but because movement itself dies.
The entire universe is suspended in an inhuman silence —
not a silence of absence, but a silence of obedience to the Nothingness.
From the smallest ant to the oldest stone,
from the newborn to the oldest of gods,
everything — even concepts, laws, and causalities —
is deprived of its own essence.
All doubt its existence,
and even the notion of "existing" falters.
The Owari no Yokuatsu — The Pressure of the End
When movement ceases, fear installs itself.
But not ordinary fear.
It is absolute existential fear, the Owari no Yokuatsu:
that which an essence feels when it understands its end is imminent,
and that there is no way out.
It is not the fear of the unknown,
but the fear of the inevitable.
For at this stage, even the notion of resistance deforms.
The very concept of resistance trembles with terror.
The entire universe becomes conscious of its own death,
and this consciousness becomes its last breath.
The Annihilation — The Light of Nothingness
Then comes Finality.
Retro-Genesis comes into action.
A light of absolute destruction rises,
piercing worlds, dimensions, and souls.
It consumes everything — absolutely everything.
Notions? Dissolved.
Concepts? Erased.
Dualities? Disappeared.
Laws? Reduced to distant memories.
Nothing remains.
Not even the memory of what was.
The Cry of God has spoken,
and the All returns to the white silence of Origin,
where even nothingness is silent.
Total Annihilation
Nothing remains.
Neither great mortals, deviants, nor gods.
From the heights of the Fourth Zone to the lowest of the Seconds,
everything is consumed, everything is erased.
Heaven and Hell,
the worlds of Existence as well as those of Myths,
structuring causalities, intentional ones,
even silence — all become distant memories,
a trace that fades before it even existed.
Retro-Genesis belongs to Morlük, but fragments of it also possess him, it is the same thing.
It is the total destruction of all things for a perfect renewal,
a cosmic tragedy for an absolute rebirth.
Nothing escapes it.
Neither narration, nor meta-concept, nor even primordial principles.
It swallows everything,
ignores limits,
and bends to no hierarchy,
for its coming is not decided: it imposes itself.
When it manifests,
nothing exists anymore.
Neither before, nor after — only the moment of erasure.
But even this absolute power knows one law:
that of the Bearer.
He who holds Retro-Genesis — Morlük or any other —
is not its master,
but its receptacle.
Retro-Genesis bows to no one;
it is Retro-Genesis that chooses its bearer,
recognizing him as its lord,
not by right, but by existential resonance.
If the bearer begins to doubt himself,
if he no longer recognizes himself as the guardian of the Cry of God,
or if he weakens in the face of the catastrophe he embodies,
then Retro-Genesis turns against him.
It engulfs him, annihilates him,
and in the silence it recreates,
it gives birth to a new bearer —
a being forged in the light of renewal,
appointed by it alone as worthy to bear its name.
Thus, the Lord of Retro-Genesis is not the one who dominates it,
but the one Retro-Genesis recognizes.
For it stands above all,
and only the one it deems powerful enough to contain it
can become its herald,
the vector of the End and the Renewal.