In the beginning, God created the universe. Yet even He could not rule all that existed alone.
So He brought forth other gods to maintain balance and order.
Together, they shaped a world and named it Hipos.
Races flourished, faiths were born, and life gained meaning.
Among those created was a host of angels—beings forged to watch over the gods themselves.
But one among them—a commander—could not understand his purpose.
"To watch? To guard? For what?"
He possessed strength beyond measure.
With power like his, he believed he was meant for more than silent obedience.
"Was this all I was created for? To stand still and simply exist?"
However, such thoughts were not pure.
And so, his holy power began to fade.
Fearing the loss of everything that made him who he was, he sealed his remaining power deep within his own soul—
yet even that could not stop the inevitable.
What remained was not light, but darkness.
A power that twisted, consumed, and reshaped.
But he was not alone.
There were angels who looked at the world as he did—angels who believed they deserved more.
They followed him.
And the ones who didn't…
they were forcefullyreshaped into something else entirely.
Thus, the demons were born.
The world of Hipos plunged into war.
Every race, every kingdom, every deity, stood against them.
The conflict devoured centuries.
And at its heart, stood Azaroth, the Demon Lord, drowning in a war he himself had begun.
"How much blood have I spilled? How many worlds have I broken? And for what?"
But in time, battle no longer held meaning.
What was the point of ruling a world left in ashes?
On the opposite side of the battlefield, Lumiel, Commander of the Angels, came to the same realization.
The war had lasted so long that hatred itself had dulled…
and slowly, painfully, transformed into something else.
They met—not as enemies—but as souls exhausted by eternity.
At first, they sought to sway one another.
Yet as they spoke, they realized the truth:
They had already reached the same conclusion.
They talked.
They listened.
They understood.
And in that understanding—love was born.
Together, they abandoned heaven and hell, angels and demons, gods and fate.
They fled to another universe—a quiet one—where the two of them lived in peace.
There, they decided to share their love with someone new.
They wanted a child.
But the powers within them were opposites—creation and destruction, holy and unholy.
The life they created could not sustain itself.
Their child died before birth.
Lumiel wept.
Azaroth watched the woman he loved break, piece by piece.
"If I cannot protect even this… then what is the meaning of all my power?"
So he devoted himself to research.
Years passed.
Then decades.
Until finally—he found a way.
If they could gather the blood of every race, harmonizing all forces within a single vessel…
Their child might live.
Azaroth's hands trembled as he wrote the final formula.
"This time… I will not fail you."
However, all of this remained nothing more than theory.
And so, Azaroth made his choice.
He would return to his original universe—the world that had cast him out—and gather the blood of every race that lived there.
He stood at the threshold of the portal, ready to leave.
But before he stepped through, Lumiel awoke.
Her voice was soft, drowsy, unaware of the burden waiting to be spoken.
"Azaroth…? Where are you going?"
He froze.
There was no avoiding it now.
No more silence.
No more secrets.
So he told her everything—every step of his research, every possibility, every risk, every fear.
He spoke of their child, of life that could not take form, of hope hanging by a thread.
When Lumiel listened, her heart ached.
She argued with him—not out of refusal, but hurt.
Not because the plan was wrong.
Not because she feared the journey.
But because he had carried this burden alone.
So in that moment—there, in the quiet between them—
they made a new promise:
From this moment on, there would be no lies, no secrets, and no pain carried alone.
Whatever awaited them, they would face it together.
And so, beneath a sky that belonged to no god and no world, they made their vow:
From this moment on—neither of them would walk alone.
And so, they returned to the universe they had once abandoned.
Their goal was clear—to obtain the blood of every race.
Always, their first approach was to speak, to explain, to request.
They did not seek war.
They did not wish to harm anyone.
"If there is even a single path without bloodshed, we will choose it."
That was what they believed.
That was what they hoped.
But not every race could understand them.
Some were simply too primitive—goblins, orcs, beasts who acted only on instinct rather than thought.
"They fear what they cannot understand… Yet we fear becoming the monsters they see." Lumiel thought, watching the frightened creatures tremble before her wings.
And there were others who understood perfectly well, yet were far too proud to ever submit—
like the dragons, whose arrogance rose higher than the mountains they slept upon.
"Power is the only language they know," Azaroth realized, as the first dragon opened its jaws to the sky, filling the air with fire hot enough to melt continents.
But there were also those who listened.
Those who looked past what they were—and saw why they had come.
The elves, guardians of balance and time, offered their blood with grace, without demand.
"May your child be born into harmony," the Elven Queen had said.
Lumiel cried that day—not from sadness, but relief.
So their journey began with the easier races—blood collected one vessel at a time.
Then came the ancient ones—
the dragons,
the fenrir,
and the primordial beings born from the world's first breath.
Against these beings, peace was impossible.
The sky burned.
The land shattered.
The oceans trembled.
With every clash, every shockwave, every roar—
The God of Creation felt their presence.
This time, their actions could not remain hidden.
"We knew… eventually, he would look at us again."
Azaroth clenched his fist, recalling the throne of heaven he once walked beneath.
Before they could escape once more, the God of Creation gathered every god and every army to stop them.
Even so—
Not even the gods could kill them.
Their resolve was absolute.
Their love was unbreakable.
Their will had outlasted eternity itself.
But the gods did succeed in one thing:
They placed a seal upon them—
one that suppressed both their holy power and their dark power,
binding the very source of what they once were.
A punishment.
A shackle.
Lumiel touched her chest where her divine essence once pulsed like a star.
"…So this is the price."
Azaroth only smiled faintly.
"Let them take my power. I no longer need it."
Because by then—
they already had everything they needed.
And they would never return to that world again.
Azaroth began his work.
He spent days and nights in silence—refining, filtering, compressing. The blood of goblins, orcs, elves, dragons, ancient beasts… every drop gathered across worlds, worlds they could never return to again.
"If this fails… then everything we have sacrificed… every life we took, every plea we ignored—will be meaningless."
But he did not say this aloud.
He could not.
For the sake of their child, he shaped all that power into a single pill. And when Lumiel's belly began to swell with new life, she swallowed it without hesitation.
Not because she fully understood it—
—but because she trusted him.
"Our child… must live in a world kinder than ours."
"Our child must not suffer what we suffered."
"Our child will be free."
That was what they believed.
But there was something they did not know:
Every race carried within them a fragment of the gods.
Elves held nature's grace and serene longevity.
Dragons bore overwhelming might and unshakable pride.
Beasts carried instinct and primal divinity.
And humans—humans carried the will to defy.
To combine all bloodlines…
was to combine all fragments of the gods.
After Lumiel took the pill, the child in her womb absorbed it entirely.
For a moment—
no movement.
No heartbeat they could feel.
No sign.
Only silence.
Azaroth felt the world freeze.
"Did I… did I kill my own child…?"
His hands trembled. He could not breathe.
Lumiel gripped his arm tightly—so tightly it hurt.
"No… I refuse. I refuse to believe this. Not after everything. Not after we ran from heaven. Not after we burned hell behind us. Not after we gave up our wings, our titles, our very names."
Then—
A movement.
Soft at first.
Then stronger.
As if the child were responding to them.
Lumiel broke into tears.
Azaroth choked on his breath.
And yet—
What moved within her was no longer a mere hybrid of angel and demon.
With every blood awakened, every lineage stirred, every divine fragment harmonizing—
The being growing inside her was becoming something else entirely.
Not mortal.
Not celestial.
Not infernal.
But a god—