Ancestral Lineage

Ethan smiled gently as he looked around at the group—his people, his family. They were all watching him with anticipation, reverence, and above all, trust. That same trust he had earned through countless battles, sacrifices, and silent burdens.

He lifted his head slightly, eyes glowing gold with faint traces of white, like sunlight breaking through storm clouds. His aura pulsed just once, and the very air hummed, the land beneath them letting out a soft groan in response.

"Well, I am…" he started, his voice low, calm, yet impossibly deep—echoing within each of them like a forgotten memory coming back to life. "...The Core. The Centerpoint. The Flame that sparks the bloodline, and the Heart that guides its beat."

He slowly stood up, the ground under his feet cracking gently as immense pressure rolled out from him, not suffocating, but vast. As if they were staring at the sea from its deepest trench.

"I am the one you all draw from. Your elevation into Ancestors was possible because my essence became the key. I didn't just awaken your bloodlines. I rewrote them using mine."

A hush fell across them.

Harley's eyes widened slightly, her lips parted in realization.

"You mean…?"

Ethan nodded. "Yes. In title, I am the Origin Ancestor. But in truth, I am something… different now. A merger of all. Of man and vampire, dwarf and spirit, creation and destruction, will and chaos."

He raised his hand, and a swirling construct of power formed in it—white flames tinged with blood, shadow, starlight, and earth. It pulsed like a living entity, and the heavens seemed to react to it with a low rumble.

"My form isn't bound to one Path. I walk many. My titles may be many—Crimson Emperor, Ancestor of All, Core of the System, Heir of the Primordials—but none matter more than this one simple fact…"

He paused, then turned to them completely, his eyes settling on Emily.

"I am your anchor. Your shield. Your sword. The moment you evolved into Ancestors, you became a part of a much deeper web—one that stretches far beyond Anbord, Old Gassendi, or even the Universe."

The grimoire appeared beside him, floating lazily. Its pages flipped open, revealing runes ancient and glowing, and one singular term highlighted in bright golden letters:

"Ancestral Core: Ethan Kael'Dri Smith — Domain Authority: Complete."

Lisa softly gasped. Even Lusamine was speechless, her divine senses confirming what was on the page.

"You all are Ancestors," Ethan continued, "but you're part of a Network. And I… am the Network's central node. The Origin."

He finally smiled, a warm and proud expression.

"That is what I am."

The silence that followed was heavy, not with tension, but with reverence. A deep-rooted awe. They didn't kneel because he asked them to. They did so because their hearts could not help but do so. One by one, every single one of his lovers, subordinates, and kin lowered their heads—some in awe, others in respect, and a few in love-stricken tears.

Trevor placed a hand on Emily's shoulder, gently lowering her head as well.

"I knew you'd surpass even the gods," he whispered with a small grin.

"You've always been different, Ethan," Clara said, her voice a whisper.

Athelia's lips trembled. "You… You're no longer just a being. You're… the foundation."

Ethan let out a tired laugh, the weight of his truth no longer needing to be hidden. "I may be, yes. But that doesn't change one thing…"

He looked around at all of them, eyes soft, kind, mortal.

"I'm still Ethan. I'm still your friend, your husband, your brother, your Emperor. Nothing about that will ever change."

And with that, he walked to Harley and plopped down, leaning into her embrace like a man with no care in the world.

"Now, someone, please bring me water. I haven't felt this drained since Barki sat on me."

A chorus of groans, laughter, and muttered complaints followed, shattering the sacred air and bringing things back to reality. Because yes, even gods needed rest.

And even the Origin could still be teased.

...

CLASH! BOOM!

Explosions tore through the once-thriving demon city, raining debris and flame across the blackened skies. The scent of ash, blood, and burning flesh filled the air as spires crumbled and roads cracked beneath the devastation. Screams echoed in every direction—piercing, hopeless cries that were soon drowned out by the guttural roars and haunting moans of the beasts.

They weren't ordinary monsters.

They were desires made flesh—gluttony incarnate. Creatures shaped by maddened lust, their eyes glowed crimson, their mouths wide and wet with blood as they devoured everything in sight. Men, women, children—none were spared. Even lesser demons, born of wrath and shadow, trembled and fell to their knees. The very core of the atmosphere shifted.

A chill.

A deep, biting cold that lanced through the bones of every living creature. A chill that silenced screams and turned even the fearless to statues of dread. The air itself turned heavy with despair.

Even the rampaging beasts paused—shuddering, quaking—as something greater loomed.

Through the chaos, Ecoras tore through the thorn-choked undergrowth, his powerful legs pounding against stone and ash. His hoofed feet shattered the ground with each stride, while his muscular arms held his pregnant wife close, shielding her trembling form. His long bull-like tail snapped behind him as his curved black horns gleamed ominously, glowing faintly with pulsing dark-violet energy that boosted his strength and speed. Yet, in his heart, a knot of fear formed.

It wasn't enough.

No matter how fast he ran… it would find them.

As he raced across the charred earth, visions of a past he desperately wanted to forget flooded his mind. A decade ago, something just like this had happened. A horror that should've never been repeated.

Back then, this very place—now a burning hellscape—was one of the most prosperous demon cities. In demon society, power defined class:

At the peak stood the Castles, homes of the demon lords and ancient noble families.

Beneath them, the Cities—populated by esteemed officers, generals, and powerful lineages.

Then the Towns, full of skilled artisans, scholars, and respected commoners.

Finally, the Villages—where the downtrodden lived, often forgotten.

The city had once been a beacon of dark civilization. But that all changed when one of the demon lords sent a battalion of Gulvanir soldiers on a trivial purge mission—to raze a backwater town of Lust demons, claiming it housed "a threat to balance." In reality, it was just another sadistic game. Demon lords were often seized by warlike whims, and the common folk paid the price.

But fate intervened.

That insignificant town—once nameless in their records—had held a secret. A sleeping heir. A child of blood. One with the ancestral essence of the First Sin of Lust. That purge was meant to wipe away filth. Instead, it awakened him.

And they had paid dearly.

In a single night, the Gulvanir forces were slaughtered. And worse—reborn as twisted instruments of Lust, enslaved by song and seduction. That event birthed a new terror, for the Sin of Lust had returned, and demons across the world remembered what fear truly was.

But demons… are immortal in essence. They are the embodiment of desire—so long as life exists, so does desire… and so do demons. To truly kill one, you must burn the soul through holy fire, divine wrath, or by the hands of those they dread most:

The Sins themselves.

Or even worse…

The Paragon of Sins.

There was also the demon king, unseen before.

The existence of this mythical being—neither lord nor king, but something ancient and absolute—was etched into the very marrow of demonkind. A being unseen, yet ever-present. Even the most arrogant demon lords dared not whisper their name without a tremor in their voice.

And yet, even with that shadow looming, life had gone on. Ecoras had found peace. He had married a beautiful demoness from the Line of Pride and was expecting a son. His heart swelled with pride, contentment, and the foolish hope that perhaps… perhaps the past was behind them.

Until the song returned.

A melody—soft as silk, sweet as honey. It slithered through the air, unseen and unheard by the mind, but felt in the soul. It lured. It danced. It consumed.

Before they even realized it, their world was once again burning.

They had hoped… prayed… that the recent flaring of the Sin Sigils within the Dark Tomb were false alarms. Both the Sigil of Pride and the Sigil of Lust had burned brightly, marking the rebirth of their wielders. But foolish pride had led many to ignore the warnings.

And now?

The consequences had arrived.

Ecoras gritted his teeth, his eyes glowing with a mix of terror and fury. His pride was shattered, his safety gone, his unborn child in peril. And all around him, his kin were falling prey not to war… but to desire itself.

And above it all, floating in the endless darkness, was the Sin of Lust.

Smiling.

Watching.

Waiting.