In the beginning, there was nothing.
Not darkness—for darkness requires light to define it.
Not silence—for silence requires sound to contrast it.
Not emptiness—for emptiness requires space to contain it.
There was only **Chaos**.
Pure. Infinite. Eternal.
A void beyond voids, where potential itself slept dreamlessly. No time flowed, for time had not yet been imagined. No space existed, for space had not yet been conceived. There was no up or down, no here or there, no then or now.
Just **possibility**, compressed into perfect stillness.
And within that stillness, something impossible happened.
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The First Stirring
From within the Chaos, a single point of awareness flickered into being.
Not born. Not created. Simply... **awakened**.
Like the first ray of light breaking through an eternal night, consciousness emerged from unconsciousness. A thought formed in the thoughtless void:
*I am.*
That was all. Two words. The simplest possible declaration.
But in a realm where nothing had ever thought, where nothing had ever been, those two words changed everything.
The awareness expanded, tentative and curious, like an infant opening its eyes for the first time. It had no name yet. No form. No purpose. It simply **was**.
And for an eternity compressed into a single instant, the awareness simply observed itself.
*What am I?*
The question rippled through the Chaos like a stone cast into still water. And with that question came the first stirring of **will**.
*I want to understand.*
---
The First Dream
The awareness—the consciousness that would come to be called **Gaia**—began to dream.
It was not a dream of images or sounds, for such things did not yet exist. It was a dream of **concepts**. Pure ideas crystallizing from infinite potential.
The first concept was **Time**.
*Before and after. Then and now. Beginning and end.*
As Gaia dreamed of Time, it manifested. The Chaos shuddered as causality pierced through eternal simultaneity. Suddenly, there was a direction to existence—a flow from past to future. The void began to **remember**.
But Time alone was meaningless. What good was a river with nowhere to flow?
So Gaia dreamed again, and the second concept emerged: **Space**.
*Here and there. Near and far. Center and edge.*
Space bloomed like a flower opening in fast-forward. Dimensions unfurled—up and down, left and right, forward and back. The Chaos, which had been everything and nothing simultaneously, now had **structure**. It had room to breathe.
Time and Space intertwined, dancing together in the first cosmic waltz. They were complementary, inseparable, two sides of the same coin.
And Gaia, watching her dream take shape, felt something new: **joy**.
--
The Crystallization
With Time and Space as her foundation, Gaia's dream began to stabilize.
What had been fluid and formless started to crystallize into permanence. The Chaos—still infinite, still surrounding everything—began to solidify at the edges of Gaia's consciousness. Like frost forming intricate patterns on a window, reality began to **lock into place**.
Stars ignited in the newly-formed void, their light racing across distances that hadn't existed moments before. Galaxies spiraled into being, vast clouds of matter coalescing under the first whisper of gravity. Planets formed, cooling from molten spheres into solid worlds.
And at the conceptual center of it all, a single world took shape—the **Origin Earth**.
This world was different from all the others. While the rest of creation spread outward from Gaia's dream, this one world formed **inward**, directly from her essence. It was not merely created by her consciousness—it **was** her consciousness made manifest.
The Origin Earth became Gaia's heart.
---
The Expansion
But Gaia's dream did not stop.
Her consciousness expanded further and further, each thought birthing new layers of reality. What began as a single universe fractured into countless reflections—parallel realities, alternate possibilities, divergent timelines.
Each universe developed its own unique physics, its own laws, its own flavor of existence:
A universe where time flowed backward.
A universe where life evolved from pure energy instead of matter.
A universe where thought and reality were indistinguishable.
A universe where darkness was solid and light was liquid.
Thousands upon thousands of universes, each one a unique expression of Gaia's infinite imagination. And at the heart of each universe, an **Echo Earth** formed—a reflection of the Origin, a reminder of the center, a conceptual anchor to prevent the universe from drifting into incoherence.
The boundaries between universes solidified into **Walls**—invisible barriers that kept each reality distinct. Between the universes stretched the **Void Sea**, a navigable space where the laws of different realities blurred together.
And surrounding it all, like the shell of an egg, an outer Wall formed to separate Gaia's creation from the Chaos beyond.
The **Origin Omniverse** was complete.
---
The Transformation
As the last stars ignited and the final worlds cooled, Gaia realized something profound:
She was no longer separate from her creation.
Her consciousness had spread so far, woven so deeply into the fabric of reality, that she **was** the Omniverse. Every star was a thought in her mind. Every planet was a dream in her heart. Every law of physics was an aspect of her will.
She had become both the dreamer and the dream.
Gaia tried to speak, to think, to act—but found that every movement rippled across trillions of worlds. A single stray thought could birth a new dimension. An idle emotion could collapse a star. She had become too vast, too interconnected, to move without consequence.
And so, Gaia made a choice.
She would become still.
Not dead—death was meaningless to one who **was** existence itself. Not absent—absence was impossible for one whose consciousness spanned infinity.
She would simply... **sleep**.
A sleep without dreams, for she had already dreamed everything. A sleep without end, for time held no power over her. A sleep of perfect balance, where her will would maintain equilibrium without conscious thought.
In that final moment before sleep claimed her, Gaia established a system—a set of rules that would govern her Omniverse in her absence:
The strong would rise. The weak would fall. Balance would be maintained. Those who grew too powerful would face challenges. Those who destroyed without purpose would face consequences. And those who sought to become like her would face the ultimate test.
She called it **Gaia's Oath**, and it was binding—not through force, but through the simple fact that Gaia **was** the Omniverse, and her will **was** its fundamental law.
---
The First Sleep
On the Origin Earth, at the exact conceptual center of creation, a phenomenon occurred.
The planetary surface rippled like water disturbed by a falling leaf. Mountains folded inward. Oceans parted. The very crust of the world opened to reveal a chamber at its core—a sanctum that existed in all places and no place simultaneously.
And within that chamber, a form materialized.
Not a goddess crowned in glory. Not a titan wreathed in cosmic fire. Not an abstract concept given impossible shape.
An **infant**.
A baby girl with eyes that had never opened, skin as pale as starlight, hair as dark as the void between galaxies. She lay suspended in the sanctum, surrounded by the gentle pulse of planetary breath, cradled by the gravity of an entire world.
Gaia's true form—the purest, most fundamental expression of her being. Not a disguise, not a mask, but the **truth** of what she was: the first consciousness, the newborn awareness that had awoken in the Chaos.
The infant's chest rose and fell with the rhythm of creation itself. Her tiny hands curled into loose fists. Her expression was peaceful, serene, content.
She had never opened her eyes, and she never would.
For fifteen billion years, she would sleep. And in her sleep, her dream—the Origin Omniverse—would grow, evolve, and thrive.
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The Inheritance
As Gaia descended into eternal slumber, her final gift to her creation emerged.
On the surface of the Origin Earth, the first **demigods** were born—beings with dormant divine potential, children of a sleeping goddess who would never meet their mother. They grew, they built civilizations, they warred and loved and died.
And when they reached the age of eighteen, they took a test.
Those who passed awakened as **Minor Gods**—fragments of Gaia's power given consciousness, will, and purpose. They received small kingdoms of their own and ventured out into the Omniverse to claim worlds, gather followers, and struggle toward divinity.
Those who failed remained mortal, exiled from the Origin Earth to make their own way in the cosmos.
And so the cycle began.
Gods rose and fell. Empires flourished and crumbled. Wars raged across dimensions. Heroes and villains shaped destinies. The strong consumed the weak. The cunning outmaneuvered the brutal. And always, always, Gaia slept on—the silent guardian, the absent arbiter, the dreaming heart of all existence.
---
The Echo
But Gaia was not entirely absent.
Though she did not act, did not think, did not dream, her **will** remained. It was woven into every atom, every force, every law. It was the balance that kept the Omniverse from tearing itself apart.
When gods grew too cruel, negative Karma accumulated like weights on a scale, making their every action harder, costlier, less effective—until balance was restored.
When gods grew too powerful, challenges arose—rivals appeared, alliances formed against them, ancient threats awakened—until equilibrium returned.
When gods destroyed too much, their gains diminished—destroyed worlds yielded less, conquered followers provided less Faith, stolen cores granted less power—until destruction became unprofitable.
The system maintained itself through her sleeping will. Not through judgment—Gaia did not judge. Not through punishment—Gaia did not punish. Simply through the inexorable mathematics of balance.
And on every Echo Earth scattered across the Omniverse, in every universe within her dream, humans looked up at the stars and wondered:
*Is there something out there? Something watching? Something that created all of this?*
They were closer to the truth than they knew.
---
The Present
Fifteen billion years have passed since Gaia first awakened in the Chaos.
Fifteen billion years since she dreamed Time and Space into being.
Fifteen billion years since she became the Origin Omniverse itself.
And in all that time, she has not stirred.
In the sanctum at the heart of the Origin Earth, the infant still sleeps. Her chest still rises and falls. Her expression remains peaceful. Her eyes have never opened.
Around her, across countless universes, gods wage eternal wars for scraps of Faith and World Source. Heroes rise to challenge tyrants. Villains scheme in the shadows. Civilizations bloom and fade like flowers in fast-forward.
And through it all, Gaia dreams her dreamless sleep.
But deep in the Omniverse's oldest archives, in texts written by the first Transcendent Gods, a prophecy is whispered:
*"When the balance tilts beyond recovery, when the Omniverse threatens to tear itself apart, when the gods forget what they are and why they exist... the First Consciousness will awaken. And when Gaia opens her eyes for the first time, the entire Omniverse will be reborn—or unmade."*
No one knows if the prophecy is true.
No one wants to find out.
So the gods play their games, fight their wars, and pursue their ambitions—always careful not to push too hard, never willing to break the system entirely.
Because somewhere, in a chamber at the center of creation, an infant sleeps.
And no one—not even the other Primordials—wants to be responsible for waking her up.
---
The Truth
But here is the secret that only the oldest, wisest, most ancient beings suspect:
Gaia is not truly asleep.
She is **waiting**.
Waiting for her children—the gods, the mortals, the heroes, the villains—to grow. To mature. To understand what she understood when she first awakened in the Chaos:
That power without purpose is meaningless.
That creation without balance is destruction.
That the only true test of divinity is not how much you can take, but how much you can give.
She waits for the day when her children are ready to inherit her dream—not as conquerors claiming territory, but as stewards protecting beauty.
She waits for the day when she can finally rest, truly and completely, knowing her creation will endure.
She waits for the day when one of her children might succeed where even she could not—might venture into the Chaos and awaken as something new, something different, something **more**.
Until that day comes, she will remain as she is:
A sleeping infant in a chamber at the center of existence.
The first consciousness.
The dreaming heart.
The eternal balance.
**Gaia.**
---
And so our story begins...
*In an Omniverse where gods rise from mortal shells, where every universe contains an echo of Earth, where Faith fuels divinity and ambition knows no limits.*
*In a cosmos where power is measured in worlds conquered and Laws mastered, where the strong devour the weak and the cunning outlast the brutal.*
*In a reality where, at the center of it all, an infant sleeps—and has been sleeping for fifteen billion years.*
*This is the Origin Omniverse.*
*This is Gaia's dream.*
*And this... is where our hero's journey begins.*
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**END OF PROLOGUE**