The abyss had quieted. Realms hung in the void like newborn stars, each trembling with the weight of its creator's will. Some stretched tall, others sagged, some burned, others froze. Each was flawed. Each was raw.
It was the first age of gods. The age of experiments. The age of discovery.
And every realm whispered, groaned, or cried as its god struggled to understand what it meant to hold dominion.
The Lesser Echoes
A man with the dominion of plants dug his fingers into the soil of his barren patch. Roots sprouted instantly, curling outward in a frenzy of growth. Trees towered around him, blooming with fruit the size of his head.
He laughed in triumph—until the trees began to rot. The bark blackened, the leaves curled, and in seconds, his forest collapsed into dust. The god fell to his knees, choking back sobs as the dust coated his skin.
Elsewhere, a woman tried to build with sand. She shaped dunes into walls, walls into towers, towers into a crude palace. For a heartbeat, it looked grand. Then the wind howled, and the entire structure crumbled.
A god of sound struck the air like an instrument, weaving vibrations into weapons. But the resonance echoed too strongly, splitting his realm's sky like glass. He clutched his head, screaming as the sound threatened to tear him apart.
Some gods cried out into the void for family. Others curled in on themselves, broken by the truth. Some tried desperately to build, to create, to breathe meaning into their empty worlds.
But for most, their creations withered, their hope collapsed, their divinity mocked them.
This was no game. It was reality.
Seeds of Power
Not all failed.
A beast-god roared into his forest of titanic monsters. He had shaped them crudely from bone and clay, but they bowed nonetheless, their eyes burning with savage loyalty.
A dream-weaver drifted through her land, smiling faintly as shadows of phantom cities bloomed. They were illusions, fragile and hollow, yet their faceless citizens bent knee before her.
Even the weak could taste ambition. Even the frightened could feel the Thrones above calling to them.
Kairos and the Serpent Realm
And then there was Kairos.
Far from the panic and despair of others, he lounged on a jagged stone, serpents coiled lazily around him. His sky was torn between void and lightning, his earth cracked and trembling, his realm half-formed yet undeniable.
The serpents hissed softly, weaving through fissures, their golden eyes watching the void. One slithered across Kairos's chest, dissolving into the tattoos that shifted faintly on his skin.
Kairos smirked.
"Mortals are still mortals, huh? Crying, panicking, trying to build sandcastles in a storm." He tilted his head at the distant shimmer of the Thrones above. "And they all think they'll reach that? Good luck."
His purple eyes gleamed. His tone was sarcastic, but beneath it pulsed something sharper: amusement. Excitement. Hunger.
Infinity – The Loop of Time
Kairos sat up, stretching as the infinity mark on his forehead glowed. He raised his hand lazily toward the torn sky, willing it to bend.
A bolt of lightning cracked down—and froze midair. Its crackle looped endlessly, replaying the same spark over and over, like the second itself was stuck.
Kairos narrowed his eyes. He stepped into the loop.
Time folded. The world repeated. He blinked, and found himself reliving the same instant, over and over, trapped in eternity.
The serpents hissed, frozen in the same posture, caught in the loop with him.
Kairos tilted his head. "So this is infinity, huh? Endless time, same second on repeat." He smirked. "Immortality's a little overrated."
With a thought, he broke the loop. Time lurched forward, the lightning vanishing into mist.
Nothingness – The Devourer
He turned his gaze downward, toward a jagged ridge of stone. He extended his hand. The tattoos writhed, glowing darkly.
The ridge quivered, then collapsed inward. Stars vanished from the horizon as a hole yawned in the air, swallowing light, sound, and matter alike.
A serpent slithered too close. It screamed as the edge of its body grazed the void, its form unraveling into smoke before it jerked back.
Kairos's smirk faltered for the first time. He stared at the black wound in reality, feeling its hunger gnaw even at him.
"Nothingness eats everything… even me if I'm careless."
He clenched his fist, and the wound sealed, the ridge restored as if untouched.
His smirk returned. "Dangerous. I like it."
Chaos – The First Creations
The tattoos pulsed again, this time twisting erratically. Purple-black smoke poured from his skin, writhing like a storm. From it, shapes emerged—half-serpents, half-human silhouettes that stumbled and crawled, their forms collapsing and rebuilding in endless cycles.
One reached for him, its hand melting into its chest before reforming as a snarling mouth. Another sprouted wings, only for them to dissolve seconds later.
They hissed, screamed, and dissolved back into smoke.
Kairos tilted his head, amused. "So Chaos doesn't just break things… it creates. Randomized, unstable, but alive. Monsters today, maybe people tomorrow."
He chuckled, leaning back. "Guess that makes me a father of abominations. How heartwarming."
The serpents hissed around him, curling protectively as the last of the chaos-spawn faded.
Myth in the Making
Above him, the torn sky split wider. For a moment, he glimpsed something vast—shadows of serpents coiling through the stars, infinite and endless, their bodies devouring themselves in a cycle without end.
It was the Ouroboros, the serpent eating its own tail. The symbol of eternity, destruction, and rebirth.
The vision faded, but Kairos's mark burned brighter on his forehead. He understood instinctively: his dominion was not a gift. It was a myth reborn.
Infinity. Chaos. Nothingness. Serpents. Together they were not merely powers—they were the foundation of gods themselves.
He smirked, leaning back once more.
"And here I thought I was just some lazy bastard playing a new game. Turns out I'm rewriting myths."
The Thrones Above
The serpents coiled tighter, their golden eyes reflecting the shimmer of the Thrones.
"Twelve seats," Kairos murmured. "Everyone's scrambling, crying, clawing for them already. Mortals pretending to be gods."
He tilted his head back, the infinity symbol flaring with dark light.
"But I'm no mortal anymore. I'll wait. I'll watch. And when I move…" His grin widened, sharp as a serpent's fang.
"…the myths will start with me."