3rd Person POV
"Who are you? Where am I?"
Alex's voice was sharp, cautious. His eyes scanned the sunlit field—lush, green, impossibly calm. The warmth of the sun blanketed the place like a dream, but every instinct inside him screamed that this wasn't real.
Then he saw her.
And everything inside him froze.
She sat there quietly beneath the tall tree, her long hair cascading over her shoulders, eyes filled with a warmth so deep it pierced straight through him. That smile... that face...
His lips parted slightly as disbelief set in.
No.
It couldn't be.
His brain refused to accept it—but his heart, traitorous and desperate, whispered otherwise.
"…Mom…?"
The word left his lips before he could stop it—quiet, broken, full of a longing he hadn't felt in years.
He stood frozen, staring at her, as if afraid that blinking would make her vanish.
She tilted her head gently and offered a soft, tender smile.
"Yes, my child," she said. "I'm your mother."
Those words shattered the last thread of resistance holding him back.
His body moved on its own, ignoring every logical warning screaming in his mind. His muscles relaxed, trembling slightly as he stepped toward her.
> "She's gone. She died. This can't be her. It's a trick. Some illusion—some manipulative telepathic construct. I'm immune to this. I should be immune to this."
The thoughts raced through his mind, faster than he could control. Every rational fiber in him screamed that this was a deception. His mental defences—crafted by ROB himself—should have blocked this if it were a trick.
But nothing was triggered.
No alerts. No resistance. No interference.
Just... peace.
And hope.
A fragile, dangerous hope.
By the time he realized what he was doing, he was already on his knees in front of her. His hands shook. His vision blurred. Tears, warm and unstoppable, began to fall down his cheeks as he stared into her eyes—searching, pleading, doubting.
"Is it really you?" he whispered.
She reached out and gently cupped his face in her hands, brushing away the tears with her thumb. Her touch was warm. Familiar. Soothing.
"Yes," she said again, her voice like a lullaby. "I've missed you so much."
Before she could say more, Alex lunged forward and wrapped his arms around her, burying his face in her chest. The sobs came like a flood, uncontrollable, primal. He hadn't cried like this since he was a child.
And now he couldn't stop.
All the strength, the walls, the shields he'd built inside himself—crumbled.
"I missed you... I missed you every day…" he whispered through broken gasps. "I thought I'd forgotten your voice. I didn't want to… I tried so hard not to…"
She held him silently, one hand stroking his back, the other resting on his head. No magic. No power. Just comfort.
And that made it feel real.
Minutes passed. Maybe more. Time felt meaningless here.
Eventually, the storm inside him calmed. His breathing slowed, though the weight in his chest hadn't gone away.
He pulled back slowly, eyes still red and wet. "How… how are you here? How is this even possible?"
She didn't answer. Instead, she looked at him with gentle eyes and patted her lap.
"Lie down," she said softly. "Just like before. I'll explain everything."
Alex hesitated.
His mind tried to reboot—to regain control after the emotional overload—but something inside him… trusted her. Even now. Especially now.
He lay down cautiously, resting his head in her lap once more. She adjusted his hair like she used to, fingers threading through the strands with motherly care.
"Are you ready to hear my story?" she asked, her tone soft but heavy with something deeper—sorrow, perhaps… or truth.
Alex looked up at her.
His throat was dry. His mind was still filled with questions, doubts, contradictions. But in that moment—he wanted nothing more than to listen.
"…Yes," he said quietly.
She smiled, the kind of smile only a mother could give.
Alex's POV
I lay quietly in her lap. My head cradled by the warmth of her thighs, her fingers threading gently through my hair. The grass beneath me was soft, and the sunlight filtering through the trees above gave everything a golden hue. Her presence was comforting. Too comforting.
I wanted to speak, to question, to demand answers… but something in her eyes told me to listen first. To wait.
Then she began.
> "When Earth was created, it released life energy—pure, wild, and spontaneous. As that energy spread, every aspect of the Earth—its rivers, flames, skies, and stones—gave birth to their own spirits. Those spirits would later be known as the Elder Gods.
I am one of those firstborns. My name is Gaea, the Goddess of Nature and the Earth itself."
I blinked, my body tensing. But I stayed still, allowing her fingers to calm me. She was Gaea. An Elder God. The soul of the planet itself. And yet… her voice wasn't commanding or cold. It was gentle, like a mother telling her child a bedtime story.
> "In the beginning, we lived in harmony. Each god respected the Earth and carried out their duties. Balance reigned.
But over time… things began to change. Pride infected us. Greed. Ambition. The gods turned on one another. They fought, manipulated, and eventually stopped caring for the Earth altogether.
Their battles nearly destroyed all life."
Her hand trembled briefly, but she continued stroking my hair. I didn't say a word. I could feel how difficult this story was for her.
> "I watched them ruin everything. For millions of years, I remained passive. Bound by cosmic law, I couldn't interfere directly. But I snapped. I had to act.
So, I poured most of my essence—and Earth's life energy—into creating a vessel. A body with a singular purpose: to kill gods who abandoned their duties.
But a body without a soul is incomplete. I couldn't steal a soul from the universe, not in my weakened state. So… I created one. From Earth's essence, I formed a new spirit. One with no divine aspect.
I merged the soul and body within me, nurtured him like a true mother. And after many cycles, he was born: Atum, the God-Eater."
Her voice softened even more.
> "He was my first son. A child not born out of love… but out of necessity. Yet I raised him as any mother would.
He grew strong, kind, curious. He wandered the world, helping mortals, integrating into their societies. But one day, he returned and asked about the destruction caused by the gods.
I told him the truth. I told him who he was. Why I made him."
My throat tightened. I could feel the ache in her voice, the loneliness of a mother sending her child to war.
> "He accepted it. Without hesitation.
For millions of years, Atum hunted and killed corrupted gods. His nature made him immune to divine attachments. He consumed their connections and power until only a few remained—Set, Chthon—they fled into other dimensions, severing their ties with Earth.
He returned to me after his mission. I asked him one thing: What will you do now?
He looked into my eyes, hugged me tightly, and said goodbye. He flew into the sun and made it his domain, becoming the Sun God, Atum."
She paused. The sunlight above flickered, as if reflecting the sorrow in her memories.
> "I fell into hibernation. My essence had been drained.
But my duties never stopped. So I began creating avatars—mortal vessels infused with my power—born once every few centuries to guide and protect the Earth.
Most lived quietly, interfering only when necessary. Until one day… Odin came to one of them. Her name was Yord."
I blinked.
> "Asgard was cursed."
That caught me off guard.
> "Asgard has existed in a cursed cycle of rebirth and destruction for countless centuries."
"Over and over, it has endured the cataclysm known as Ragnarok—a cosmic reset in which gods perish, realms fall, and order collapses. But each time, Asgard is reborn from the ashes, its people resurrected, its story repeating with slight variations. Some souls have lived and died through hundreds of these cycles, reliving their destinies over and over again—sometimes as heroes, other times as victims."
"This endless cycle was not fate, nor divine punishment. It was the result of a wish."
"The very first king of Asgard, Búri—the progenitor of Odin's bloodline—once stood before Eternity, the living embodiment of the universe itself. There, he made a single, desperate plea: that Asgard would never fall. That it would persist beyond all time, protected from the decay of existence."
"Eternity granted his wish. And so, Asgard became eternal—but not invulnerable."
> "And so, it became a pocket dimension, tethered to the World Tree, Yggdrasil, and the Ten Realms.
But over time, the Angels severed their own realm from the Tree, leaving Nine."
Her voice darkened slightly. There was pain buried deep in those memories.
> "When an Asgardian dies, their soul returns through Valhalla, reborn in the next cycle. But this immortality, this cycle... drew the attention of beings beyond the veil—Outer Gods. Ancient entities from outside creation who envied what they could not possess.
These Outer Gods could not directly break the protections placed upon Asgard, so they chose a different method.
They manipulated. Whispered into minds. Twisted fate itself. They fed conflict, pride, and vengeance until the perfect storm formed."
I remained still, but I felt my heart tighten.
> "There was once a war between Thor and these Outer Gods. He lost. Not by strength, but by deception. The gods were tricked, and Asgard was destroyed—not in a blaze of battle, but through orchestrated collapse.
And when Asgard fell, the released divine energy became nourishment to those Outer Gods, empowering them further.
But Buri's wish still held firm. Asgard was reborn. Again and again.
And so began the endless cycle: Creation. Corruption. Collapse. Ragnarok. Rebirth.
Each time, Asgard rose weaker. The Outer Gods learned more. And the manipulation grew subtler."
She paused for a moment, her eyes distant.
> "Then, in this timeline… Odin saw it. He broke the veil. When he offered his eye at Mimir's Well, he didn't just gain wisdom—he remembered.
All the lives he had lived. All the times he had watched his home burn.
And he knew... something had to change."
Gaea's fingers tightened slightly against my scalp.
> "That's when he came to Yord, one of my avatars. He pleaded for help. And she agreed, but on one condition—that Asgard would protect Earth until it became strong enough to protect itself. They made a magical pact. A binding contract.
Yord used her essence, Odin gave his, and together they conceived a child using Thor's ancient soul, drawn back from Valhalla.
Thor was born… not of lust or conquest, but of unity and survival.
Yord's body, however, could not withstand the strain. Her essence drained, she died not long after."
Another wave of emotion hit me, but I didn't speak. She wasn't done yet.
> "New avatars were born. The cycle continued. I slept. The Earth turned.
Until… your mother was born. Elira Valen Ryven.
She was different. She inherited only my powers, not my memories, by choice
She chose to live as a human. To fall in love. To marry.
Your father, Adrian Ryven, was a man of science. When she couldn't conceive naturally, they turned to artificial means. They created an embryo and placed it in her womb.
But even then… the child needed a soul strong enough to hold divine power.
So… Elira broke the rules. She stole a soul still in the cycle of reincarnation. A powerful, unpurified soul.
She sealed its memories. And that soul… was you."
I couldn't move. My heart pounded. I felt like the Earth had shifted under me.
> "She gave birth to you, but the universe punished her for breaking the cycle.
Her body began to fail. Yet she held on—for three years. Long enough to love you. To sing to you. To call herself your mother.
Then she died… and returned to me.
Her memories. Her love. Everything merged back into me."
I looked up at her, eyes brimming with tears. My lips trembled.
> "And now… you've met me. Not through destiny or prophecy. But because someone who gave you powers also helped me regain my complete powers—someone not of this world. I couldn't find him. But his power remains inside you.
A deal was made. I don't know the terms. But as long as you keep your side… you will not be in danger."
Her eyes sparkled as she finished. Silence fell between us.
I had many questions but most important one I asked I opened my mouth slowly. "Are you my real mother? Or was Elira?"
She didn't answer immediately. Instead, she smiled and asked:
> "Are you Max Crown... or Alex Ryven?"
That shattered whatever defense I had left. I wept. Quietly. Hopelessly. Her hands wiped my tears.
"I'm both," I said softly.
She nodded. "And I am both Elira and Gaea. You are my son. Not from duty. But from love."
She placed her palm over my forehead, her energy flowing into me.
> "When you were born, I sealed your powers. I wanted you to be just a normal boy. A child free of responsibility.
When you were shot, you wouldn't have died anyway—not with my essence in you.
But now… you've grown. And I must lift the seal."
Suddenly, I began floating upward. My mind soared. I saw the Earth from above. I traveled through dimensions, witnessed cosmic creatures, timelines, wars, births, and deaths—worlds without names, stars older than time.
Then... I returned. Back to her lap. My heart pounding.
She smiled gently.
> "The seal is lifted. You're stronger now. Your body can handle more powerful transformations. You don't have to fear disrupting your genes.
But be wise. Don't overuse that power before you're ready."
I nodded slowly, still overwhelmed. I had doubt about my existence now. I looked at her and then,
"What now?" I whispered. "Should I become a hero? A protector of Earth? Should I—"
She cut me off, softly.
> "Wrong question. Ask yourself: What do you want to do?
I don't need you to be a savior or conqueror. I just want you to be happy.
To live. To love. To find a new family. Even if you're seen as a villain by the world… I will always love you."
I couldn't hold it anymore. I threw myself into her arms, sobbing like a child. Her embrace was warm, unconditional.
We stayed like that for a long time.
Finally, she whispered, "Your time here is ending."
I pulled back. "Is this... the last time I'll see you?"
She cupped my face.
> "You can come here anytime you wish. This dimension is like yours anyways as it is my realm, isn't it my son."
She kissed my forehead.
A brilliant white light enveloped me. I closed my eyes instinctively.
When I opened them, I was back.
Standing beside my bed. Morning light spilled into the room. Outside, birds chirped. The world had not changed.
But I had.
A happy releved smile—real, content—curved my lips.
Just then, a knock at the door broke my thoughts.
"Young master," said Edgar. "Breakfast is ready."
I turned toward the window.
A new day had begun.