History itself had changed.
From the very dawn of creation, when Dalton devoured the Spirit Origin, the world's history was shaped anew bent to his will. Where once was something else now the chronicles began with something greater:
A dragon of crimson the origin of spiritual life.
The crimson Dragon. The Primogenitor.
Generations passed. Entire civilizations rose under the shadow of his myth. Shrines were carved into mountains, temples were built on floating isles, and academies of spirit arts etched his sigil into their foundations.
It was known to all: every spirit traced its essence back to him.
Children grew up playing with tiny Kuribohs and flame sprites alike. Villagers called upon Harpies to protect their harvest just as easily as sylphs to carry their winds. Knights marched to war with Golems of rock or Gear Golems of Yu-Gi-Oh.
By the present age, at the Areishia Spirit Academy, the mingling of worlds was ordinary. Maidens summoned Sylphs and Stratos, Salamanders and Flame Swordsmen, Nymphs and Dark Magicians. Instructors taught that all spirits, no matter their form, were born of the First Dragon who with the originator and breathed forth life eternal.
The Primogenitor was the origin of spirit-kind.
The crimson Dragon was the foundation of the world.
Dalton—hidden in human guise, watching from a distance—could feel it in the air. Every summoning circle, every contract ritual, every spirit chant… all of them carried his echo.
The Yu-Gi-Oh spirits within him stirred, content, harmonizing with the elemental chorus of the world.
This world was his domain. A living testament to Yu-Gi-Oh's cosmology.
And Dalton—the crimson Dragon—was its eternal root.
With that he left back to little garden.