The heavens shifted.
Another fragment descended, but this was no mere shard of power—it was a piece of a lost sky, a fragment of a world's cosmos, carrying with it the histories of an existence now gone. The stars within it whispered as they fell, singing tales of a forgotten realm.
A king born in darkness, whose reign was both feared and revered.
A hero who longed for adventure, his journey spanning countless lands and ages.
A lone wolf, eternally waiting for the return of its master.
These stories, woven into constellations, flickered one last time before vanishing.
The moment the fragment touched the sky of this world, the old stars shattered.
The sky roared as galaxies collapsed, their light torn asunder by the force of fusion. The constellations that had long guided mortals, telling tales of the gods, were erased in an instant. History was rewritten.
Then, from the destruction, new stars were born.
They flickered into existence, newborn suns struggling to find their place. Some shone with divine brilliance, burning through the void, while others collapsed upon themselves, forming chasms of endless gravity. Some stars collided, merging into something greater, while others withered, vanishing before they could even be named.
The sky was no longer what it once was. It had changed.
And with it, something fell.
From the celestial rebirth, treasures rained down upon Gaia.
Gems of impossible radiance, fragments of dead stars, weapons infused with the energy of collapsing stars—artifacts of power and mystery scattered across the lands, waiting to be found.
Kingdoms would rise in pursuit of these fallen gifts. Adventurers would seek the unknown, drawn by whispers of untold riches. The gods themselves would watch, for even they could not predict what lay hidden among the fallen stars.
And so, as the sky settled into its new form, a new era began. The Age of Discovery had arrived.
---
The heavens burned as another fragment descended.
Unlike the others, this one pulsed with a living will—a fragment not of land, sea, or sky, but of flesh and blood. It was born from the corpses of a mother dragon, fhe eggs of a long-forgotten race that once ruled the skies of another world laid in it.
It carried the scent of fire, the roar of titans, and the pride of apex predators.
As it crashed into Gaia, the land itself shook, trembling beneath the weight of an ancient power.
The mountains groaned, the forests swayed, and the volcanoes erupted as if answering the call of something primal, something that had been waiting to return.
The legacy of dragons of another world, once mighty and strong have come to this world in the form of eggs. The baby dragons in the eggs felt the surge of power course through their very souls.
The fragment had fused with Gaia, and in doing so, the dragon eggs had baptized them in the will of the world itself.
Their scales hardened, their claws sharpened, their wings stretched, now stronger than ever before. Their potentials soared, reaching heights even they had never imagined.
And among them, in the heart of a newly awakened nest, something stirred.
A lingering soul, one that had been shattered long ago, began to merge with one of the dragon egg.
Python. The ancient serpent. The King of Monsters. The one who had once stood against Zeus himself, a terror so great that even the Thunderer had to strike him down.
His essence had never truly faded—it had lingered, waiting for a vessel strong enough to bear his will. And now, among the reborn dragons, he had found one.
The young dragon in the egg screamed as its body twisted, its soul merging with the fallen king of monsters. Its eyes burned with newfound intelligence. Its body swelled, shifting into something greater, something beyond even the mightiest of its kin.
It was no longer just a dragon. It was Python reborn.
And as its first roar shook the heavens, the gods turned their gaze to the world below. A new era of dragons had begun.
As the dragons soared under the heavens, their rebirth shaking the world, another fragment fell.
Unlike the others, this one was not made of land, sea, or flesh—it was pure essence, a fragment filled with elemental power, holding the last remnants of a forgotten god's spirituality.
It was a dying breath, the final trace of a deity who had long since faded from existence.
As it descended, the winds howled, the oceans churned, and the earth rumbled, as if recognizing the arrival of something sacred. When it touched the world, it did not crash into the land or sink into the sea.
Instead, it hovered.
The air around it shimmered, twisting as space itself split open, and from that wound, a new realm was born—The Spirit Realm.
It was not a place of mortals, nor was it bound by the same rules as Olympus or the Underworld. It was a realm of elements, where fire danced freely in the air, where rivers flowed without end, where mountains floated, untouched by gravity.
Here, the laws of nature were rewritten.
The elements, once bound to Gaia, now had a realm of their own, a place where they could grow, evolve, and take form.
And from the core of this newborn world, the first spirits awakened.
They were not gods, nor were they mortals. They were the living embodiments of the elements, creatures born of pure fire, water, earth, wind, lightning, and ice. Their forms shifted between the material and the immaterial, flickering like flames, flowing like rivers, standing like mountains.
This was the birth of the Spirit Race—a race of beings formed from the essence of the world itself.
Some took the shape of wisps, small and flickering, barely sentient.
Some grew into humanoid figures, walking embodiments of their elements.
And some, the most powerful, took forms as vast as storms, their presence capable of shaping the world around them.
The birth of the Spirit Realm did not go unnoticed.
The gods watched with cautious eyes.
The mortals felt the change, their magic shifting, their connection to the elements deepening in ways they did not yet understand.
And deep within the Spirit Realm itself, something stirred.
The last traces of the forgotten god—the deity whose essence had formed this place—had not disappeared. It fuse with one of the newly born ice spirit.
And as the spirit realm was being born. Nirvana, the daughter of Hephaestus who took the form of phoenix came to the spirit realm and made a nest there.