In the beginning, there was nothing — until something learned how to grow. From that single act of creation, the Multiverse blossomed into a vast orchard of worlds, each birthed by a being who mastered the art of Power Farming — cultivating energy from emotion, memory, and death itself. These creators, called Travelers, sow their essence into the Void to raise new realities, but every creation comes with blindness: once they ascend, they forget the worlds they left behind.

The story follows one such Traveler — nameless, reborn into the First Stage, a silent wasteland known as the Garden of Beginnings. Guided by a whispering soil-spirit, they learn to farm power and plant their first Worldseed, unaware that each seed draws life from the death of another world. As their strength grows, they create realms of astonishing beauty and terror — living continents, self-aware storms, and civilizations that worship their unseen hand.

But when another Traveler invades their creation, the illusion of divinity shatters. A war of gods ignites across the layers of existence, collapsing worlds and revealing the horrifying truth: every Stage of the Multiverse feeds upon the one below, an eternal cycle of creation and consumption. The Traveler rises through these Stages — from mortal soil to divine thrones — uncovering fragments of their past selves and the echoes of countless forgotten worlds they once built.

At the summit of reality lies the Root Realm, home to the First Sower, the being who began the cycle. The Traveler discovers that every ascended creator must become the seed of the next universe — each god buried so another may bloom. Faced with the choice to end or renew existence, the Traveler sows themselves into the Void, merging with it completely.

The Multiverse trembles. A new world begins to stir — unaware, as always, of the one who planted it.

The Multiverse was not born. It was planted.


In the beginning, there was only the Void — silent, endless, hungry. From that stillness, something began to stir, not by accident, but by intention. The first Traveler, whose name was swallowed by time, took a fragment of their essence and buried it in the darkness. From that act of surrender, light bloomed for the first time — a seed cracking open within the Infinite.


Each world that followed was not a continuation, but a reflection — a layer of existence unaware of those above or below it. Mortals, spirits, and gods lived and perished without knowing they were part of something vaster — an orchard of universes growing from the same roots. And in every world, one question echoed, soft as a heartbeat beneath creation:


Now, another Traveler awakens — nameless, wandering through a realm yet unshaped. The runes on their skin pulse like veins of molten gold, whispering of the power buried within. Somewhere in the unseen layers above, gods look down and feel a tremor of recognition.


For the Seed has been sown again, and the Infinite begins to bloom once more.


Introduction