Aethon rested in the chamber, wings folded carefully behind him, still adjusting to the strength coursing through his body. Koopa stood silently by his side, a steadfast guide, while the elder entered, his presence commanding attention even in the quiet room.
"Sit," the elder instructed, gesturing to a polished stone platform. "It is time you understand why you are here. Why you have been reborn. Why the Tribes await you."
Aethon nodded cautiously. "I… I'm ready. I think. I need to understand everything."
The elder took a deep breath. "Very well. Listen carefully, for the world is far older and far more complex than you can imagine. Long before your kind, long before humans walked the surface, gods created life across multiple realms. Each god specialized, creating their own domain."
He began slowly, his voice echoing in the chamber:
"The Arthropod God created all arthropods—beetles, ants, bees, spiders, crustaceans. He watched over them, nurtured their tribes, and gifted each codices to guide their evolution and their powers. But he was not alone.
The Human God created humans, elves, dwarves, giants, and all other humanoid species.
The Reptile God created dragons, serpents, and reptiles of every kind.
The Fish God created fishes and aquatic life.
The Plague God created bacteria, viruses, and all microscopic life capable of spreading disease.
The Elemental Gods—lightning, fire, water, darkness, demons—created elemental powers that flowed through life. The Demonic God, in particular, spread corruption, twisting beings into monsters. Mindless creatures, animals, or even entire Tribes could be corrupted. Only humans and demons retained intelligence, but even then, they became destructive, cunning, and deadly.
And there were other gods—the Light God, the gods of balance, and many more—each shaping life in their way. The world was vast, full of life, yet precarious."
Aethon absorbed every word, his mind racing. "And… the Arthropod God? What happened to him?"
The elder's tone darkened. "One day, without warning, he vanished. No one knows how or why. In his absence, the Tribes became vulnerable. The demonic corruption spread across the surface, turning many Arthropods into mindless monsters. Humans, dragons, and other species, , began destroying our Tribes. Only those that retreated underground survived—the rest were wiped out.
"The Dragonfly Tribe… the very codex you absorbed… their Tribe was destroyed. Most surface Tribes vanished. Only a few remain underground, hiding, preserving their culture, their codices, their powers. You… are the first hope to rebuild and strengthen the Tribes, to unite them again."
Aethon flexed his wings nervously. "So… I'm… supposed to… help? I don't… I don't even know where to start."
The elder gave him a steady gaze. "You are not here to start small. You carry the power of a successor. The codices of each Tribe can be absorbed by the true heir—the successor of the Arthropod God. Each codex holds the essence, the knowledge, the racial power of its Tribe. You now hold the Dragonfly Codex. In time, you will gather more, growing stronger, learning, becoming more than a single Tribe can ever be."
He paused, letting the weight of his words settle. "The Moth Tribe foresaw this day. They predicted that you would come from the Horned Beetle Tribe. You are the one who will lead the Tribes, who will bring them back from the brink, who will rise to protect them from the chaos above. You are their hope. You are their successor."
Aethon exhaled slowly, trying to steady his racing thoughts. "All of it… the gods, the Tribes, the codices, the monsters… it's… so much. And I'm… supposed to be… what? The Arthropod God's successor?"
The elder nodded. "Yes. It will not be easy. You will need to learn the powers of each Tribe, understand the codices, forge alliances, and confront corruption wherever it rises. Only then will the Tribes thrive once more. And only then will the Arthropod God's vision continue—through you."
Aethon's gaze wandered over the walls of the chamber, lined with carvings and relics of the Tribes—beetles, ants, bees, mantises, dragonflies—all meticulously preserved. "So… all of this… the Tribes underground… we are the last survivors? The rest… the surface… destroyed?"
The elder's voice was heavy with sorrow. "Yes. That is why your role is critical. The Tribes can no longer afford weakness. You are their shield, their power, their unifying force. And in time… you will learn how to wield it."
The elder nodded, placing a heavy, clawed hand on his shoulder. "Good. Rest now. Tomorrow, your training begins. You will learn the powers of the Horned Beetle Tribe first, then others. Each codex you absorb will bring new abilities, new understanding, new responsibility. Remember, this is your path—and the Tribes' fate rests in your hands."
Aethon closed his eyes, letting the weight of the revelation sink in. The journey ahead would be long, dangerous, and unlike anything he had ever imagined. But for the first time, he felt a spark of resolve. He was no longer just Aethon. He was the successor of the Arthropod God—the future of the Tribes, and perhaps the only hope for a dying world.