CHAPTER 382: NEW RACE: PRIMORD

Back with Ethan, his birth and evolution was reaching its climax, but it seemed that there was more to be added. First was his soul links with his soulmates, both those he knew and didn’t. Then came his background as a descendant of Primordial Death and Primordial Life.

What did this mean?

Ethan was a person with a background of great proportions. His body, once stabilized and complete, suddenly shuddered and began to swell, expanding as if the universe itself was pouring into his frame.

You must remember that he was still in a closed volcano. It was even a miracle that the volcano was still standing. But now, it seemed that it was about to give in.

The closed volcano groaned and cracked, its core screaming under the strain of containing what could no longer be contained. The mountain rumbled, its walls splitting into glowing seams of molten light as space itself warped around Ethan. It was a miracle the volcano had endured this long, but that miracle was ending.

His flesh stretched, warped, reshaped. Claws tore through his hands, gleaming silver edged with streaks of gold. His chest widened, his spine snapped and reformed, growing longer and thicker until a jagged skeletal projection broke free and stretched into a tail. His face convulsed, jaw elongating, features twisting until a proud snout thrust forward, lined with fangs that glistened like carved ivory.

Then came the fur.

It sprouted in waves, racing across his body until he was clad in a coat of silvery-white, each strand shimmering as though woven from the threads of mysticism itself. At the edges, where the fur caught the light, faint glyphs flickered and dissolved, like living inscriptions of power etched into his very being.

White whiskers, tipped in faint silver fire, grew long from his cheeks and vibrated with unseen currents of authority. His eyes, still sealed shut, glowed faintly from within—the golden markings etched around them rippling like tidal waves of command, bending the space they touched.

And then, on his brow, the symbol appeared.

Three interlocking rings—golden with radiant silver outlines—burned into existence upon his forehead. Their glow was not light, but truth, and the aura they radiated was not power, but law.

Reality itself bent in reverence, unable to defy their presence.

The volcano shattered in that instant, obliterated into nothingness. Mountains collapsed, skies tore open, and the land for hundreds of miles fractured like brittle glass. Yet before destruction could truly take hold, it all rewound. The volcano reformed, the rift sealed, and nature’s song continued as though nothing had ever happened. Ethan had already vanished, carried away by the hand of destiny into a higher stage.

He emerged into the cosmos.

Suspended amidst galaxies and stars, amidst the silent eternal ocean of creation, Ethan’s body unfurled in full. He was no longer man, no longer bound by the fragile symmetry of flesh. He had become something far greater.

His frame was colossal, the size of mountains, yet sleek and balanced with predatory grace. His fur was pure silvery-white, glowing as though each strand captured the light of dying stars. Along his sides and limbs, patterns of deep golden stripes flowed like rivers of order, forming sigils too ancient for mortal tongues, mystical and divine in symmetry.

His face, somewhere between a tiger’s ferociousness and a bear’s primal might, exuded an aura of feral divinity. Beautiful white fangs jutted from his lips, sharp enough to shred the fabric of space itself. His claws gleamed silver, tipped in gold, and when they flexed the void trembled.

Across his back, golden-scaled plates unfurled, interlocking like divine armor, running from his neck to the length of his tail. That tail—long, white, tipped with radiant gold—flowed like a comet, trailing strands of burning light that lingered in space.

He curled as if in sleep, but the cosmos told another story. With each breath, stars flickered and dimmed. With each heartbeat, planets shivered in their orbits. The silent void reverberated with an aura that was neither chaos nor serenity—it was absolute presence.

For Ethan was no longer simply a Saint, nor merely a false one. His rebirth had severed him from the fragile ladder of mortal realms. His foundation had been reforged in law and mystery, set anew by the twin legacies of Life and Death. He had been reset, rebuilt, and remade into something that transcended definitions.

His body was a paradox—athletic yet colossal, sleek yet robust, radiant yet terrible. His power did not merely shine; it resonated, spreading through the vast tapestry of creation like a heartbeat the cosmos itself could not ignore.

In the silence of eternity, Ethan slept. Yet all who could feel, all who could sense, all who still remembered the ancient days of birth and blood and beginnings, knew the truth.

A new race had been born.A new foundation had been laid.And the worlds would never be the same again.

...

The cosmos itself seemed to still when Ethan’s massive, silvery-white beast form lay adrift among the stars. His chest rose and fell slowly, each breath echoing like a low tremor across the fabric of creation. The golden-striped fur along his body shimmered with divine resonance, while the plated spine of radiant scales glistened as if forged from the very bones of eternity. His claws curled, each one a blade that could carve through space itself, yet his repose carried the quiet majesty of a slumbering god.

Then—everything hushed.

The stars dimmed. Galaxies bent inward. The very music of the universe, that eternal hum that sustained the planes, faded into silence.

And into that silence came a voice.

It was not a voice carried by air, nor sound, nor vibration. It was deeper—woven into the bedrock of reality itself. When it spoke, every being across realms, mortal and divine alike, felt the syllables etch themselves into their bones. The words were not heard but known, a revelation forced into the mind.

"At last... the First has awoken. The bridge between Life and Death, the harmony of Order and Mysticism, born anew from blood, struggle, and destiny."

The silvery-golden beast that was Ethan shifted slightly, though his eyes remained shut. The three interlocking rings upon his forehead flared, projecting waves of golden-silver radiance that lit the void brighter than suns.

"Behold... the Primord. The first of its kind. A race without beginning, for it was carved from both Origin and End. Neither beast nor man, neither god nor shade. A singularity, perfected. One who embodies Balance itself."

The declaration thundered across existence. On distant planes, sages clutched their temples and collapsed, overwhelmed by the surge of truth forced into them. Entire sects and empires knelt instinctively, not even knowing why. In the Demon Realm, even Lilith paused mid-laughter, her smirk faltering as her body trembled. In the Dragon Emperor’s halls, Fafnir’s scales cracked along the edges of his horns, and he growled in fury against the pressure of that name.

Meanwhile, Ethan’s transformation reached its final touches.

His beastly snout softened slightly, resolving into something between predator and divine judge—beautiful in its ferocity. His closed eyelids twitched, the left bearing the mark of golden truth, the right rippling with silver mysticism. The golden claws flexed and the tail shimmered, its radiant tip leaving comet trails as it moved. The stripes of dark gold across his fur pulsed with rhythm, like veins channeling cosmic law itself.

And then, the voice spoke again, the cosmos bending as though bowing:

"Primord, bearer of Order and Mysticism... you are the first flame of a race that shall reshape eternity. Stand, awaken, and claim what was always yours."

At that, Ethan’s golden-silver eyes opened—and galaxies split under their weight.

...

The moment Ethan’s eyes opened, the cosmos flared with an impossible brilliance—golden truth and silver mysticism colliding in a harmony that remade the void. The vast beast, now complete, shifted from his curled repose. Muscles like rivers of molten steel rippled beneath his silvery-white fur as he rose.

First, his claws uncurled, each talon slicing through space like parchment. Then his spine stretched, plates of golden scales rattling with a resonance that echoed like a war-drum across eternity. His long, radiant tail lashed once, and entire constellations dimmed as if in reverence.

He stood.

Though his size was small compared to the gargantuan expanse of planets and stars—no larger than a mountain adrift in the infinite—his presence dwarfed them all. His form was a paradox: a single being outshining suns, his aura pressing down on galaxies like the hand of a god. The silvery-white fur shimmered like a tide of moonlight, and the golden stripes pulsed with a rhythm akin to the heartbeat of creation itself.

Then Ethan lifted his beastly head, the three interlocking rings blazing upon his brow, and opened his maw.

The roar that followed was no mere sound. It was the shattering of silence, the primal declaration of existence. It surged out like a tidal wave, shaking the firmament of the universe. Stars quivered in their sockets. Planets cracked as mountains crumbled beneath the pressure. Black holes themselves rippled, coughing out bursts of energy as if cowed.

Every being—beast, man, god, demon, or dragon—heard it.

On distant planets, farmers in their fields dropped to their knees as the roar vibrated through their bones. In celestial courts, kings and emperors clutched their thrones, unable to breathe beneath the weight of it. Ancient immortals, sealed away in forgotten dimensions, stirred awake and shuddered with dread.

Every intelligent lifeform across creation felt the same truth seared into their minds:

Something new had awakened. Something absolute.

The roar carried no words, yet it spoke louder than prophecy. It was a proclamation to all realms:

The First had risen. The Primord had been born.

When the sound finally ebbed, silence reigned again. But it was no longer the silence of the void—it was the hush of a world holding its breath. Stars flickered nervously, as though waiting to see what this being would do next.

And in the midst of that silence, Ethan—Primord—stood tall in the galaxy’s heart, his golden-silver eyes gazing outward. The cosmos bent under his gaze, yet he simply breathed, his aura marking the dawn of a new era.