Dormant — that was what Ether's destructive side became, while its creative essence was suppressed for ages. But as Ether continued to feed on the energy of the Ascendants, something unexpected occurred. Its creation aspect began to merge perfectly with the Chaos it consumed. The moment the fusion was complete, Ether's being split in two — its creation essence separated from the destructive half and took on a life of its own.
There was great jubilation in the Void. The Ascendants believed they had achieved harmony — a perfect balance of Ether and Chaos. They thought their struggles were over, that they could finally rest. But fate is rarely so kind.
Ether wanted to be whole again. It longed for its missing half. Yet, its creative side, now known as Origin, was overjoyed to be free. And so, Origin fled into the deepest reaches of the Void, far beyond Ether's grasp, and began a new creation.
But this creation was unlike the countless universes Ether once birthed and devoured. No — this was something entirely different. Instead of universes meant to ripen and be eaten, Origin created Realms — vast, self-sustaining realities that could expand infinitely, equal in power to the Void itself.
This was the birth of Heaven, Origin's first creation.
But Origin didn't stop there. It sealed the gateways, locking the Ascendants out of ever stepping foot into its sacred domain. And Ether? Ether fared far worse. When it tried to devour this new realm, it found that Heaven was unlike any universe it had ever consumed. This realm was not planted for harvest — it was forged for defense.
Heaven possessed the power to counter Ether's hunger, and that power resided in the beings known as the Warborn — living embodiments of destruction itself, born to oppose Ether. They were his reflection, yet his greatest enemy — firewalls of reality forged to keep him at bay.
"Thankfully," Irene whispered, lowering herself into a lotus position, "they didn't become Ether. The War Realm outdid herself when she created the Warborn."
Around her, the darkness pulsed. The place she sat was no ordinary void — it was the very battlefield where Origin and Ether once clashed, where creation and destruction had torn existence apart. To anyone else, it would be a death sentence. But to Irene, it was perfect.
Here, the air still hummed with traces of both powers. And for the Red Knight of Lucian — for the flame of Origin — it was the ideal place to awaken her strength.
"Lucian's path…" she murmured, eyes closed as her energy began to flare, "is one filled with trials. He descends through the path of reincarnation, yet his true path… is ascension. As his backup, I must ensure he succeeds."
Far away, under the quiet sky of the Primordial Realm, Lucian examined the crimson armor gifted to him by his uncle. He ran his fingers over its intricate engravings — old symbols that pulsed faintly with divine power.
Zerathos never gave gifts without reason. His very name inspired fear, and for him to part with his own armor… something far greater was at play.
Lucian lay back on the soft green field, staring up at the towering trees and the stars that peeked through the leaves. The night was calm — too calm. Beside him, Murcades slept soundly, his breathing soft and peaceful.
"The calm before the storm," Lucian whispered, his voice heavy. The peace around him only deepened his unease. "I can't do this alone."
Fear crept into his heart — the kind his uncle had planted there so effortlessly. "I'll have to find a way for mortals to grow stronger," he said quietly. "Stronger than gods, if possible." His gaze drifted toward Murcades. "But… is that fair, Irene?" he sighed, knowing she couldn't hear him.
Somewhere beyond the veil, Irene stirred. The red flames that burned from her body flared brighter as if in response to his voice.
She wasn't just a warrior — she was flame incarnate. Her energy veins burned like molten rivers, and through a ritual once performed by the Celestial Sage, she had gained the ability to ease Ether's destructive energy — a feat so profound it was still spoken of in Heaven to this day.
Lucian rose to his feet, his expression firm. A glowing circle of intricate symbols appeared beneath him, pulsing with divine light. The wind picked up, swirling leaves and dust around him as he drew his sword.
Placing one hand on the hilt, he declared:
"I, Prince Lucian of Heaven, summon the Red Knight — Irene."