Time flowed like a river for Ash as he didn't move an inch for a full thirty years (Inner Universe Time).
During this time, many gears began to turn all over the wider world of cultivation, however for Ash his focus remained solely on cultivating this Galaxy Core… that had now reached completion. Something else to note is that unlike the Old Haven, Ash's age and everyone else's increased for time spent inside.
So now he was 57 years old.
Ash opened his eyes slowly, the vast expanse of his inner cosmos stretching below him like an endless canvas waiting for its masterpiece. The Galaxy Core hovered before him—a colossal orb of swirling rose-pink nebula, its surface etched with fractal veins of pure "is-ness" that defied shape, pulsing with inevitability and unique power.
No normal spiral or cluster; this core was the first of its kind, a living paradox where stars would birth not from dust, but from woven desires and infinite cycles—beautiful, terrible, humming with a low resonance that made his wings vibrate faintly.
[Master, it's complete,]
Elysia's voice echoed warmly in his mind.
[Place the structure wherever you will. The moment you do, the first Galaxy will form—unique to your vision, governed by your Laws.]
Ash nodded, gaze shifting to the Haven below—the floating island with its rainbow plains and starlight tree. He would keep it outside the new galaxy for now, letting it evolve on its own terms without external influence.
With a thought, he willed the core downward—into the vast void beyond the Haven.
HUMMMMM!!!!!
It bloomed—empty, a skeletal framework of rose-pink nebulae arms unfurling in silent majesty, no stars or worlds yet, just the pure structure of a galaxy taking shape. It drew in ambient mana like a starving void, the cosmos' essence flooding in waves that made the air shimmer and hum.
The structure expanded—slow at first, then accelerating, growing from planetary scale to stellar, arms weaving in unique, paradoxical loops rather than spirals, defying conventional cosmic forms.
As it reached the size of a full galaxy—spanning light years across, unique and alive—the inner cosmos responded. Space stretched to accommodate, expanding from 59 billion km to vast new horizons.
The core's completion unlocked a new ability in his status—a prompt blooming golden.
[First World Creation: Imagine and birth a world based on your will. Cultivated time will depend on creation.]
Ash imagined it—a world brimming with endless potential, all born from Primavus blood: adaptive, yearning, eternal.
"This will be the first true home world for all Primavus," he muttered as he sealed his creation.
Then, a seed took shape—a tiny, shimmering sphere that streaked toward the heart of the newborn galaxy.
It would take 50,000 years to finish. With personal care, that time could be cut in half—but Ash would let it grow on its own for now, trusting the process.
He exhaled, his wings spreading wide.
"Well, let's move on to the next step."
From the Third to the Ninth Calamity, six new Calamity Laws were needed. He sat cross-legged in the void, mana swirling around him like a brewing storm. The real work was about to begin.
-----
While Ash focused on strengthening himself, the world outside kept moving without pause. His companions edged nearer to their goals, the Nocturne Clan had made it back home, and beyond all that, other power plays were unfolding.
In the void-shattered expanse of the Ebon World—a Ninth Era World floating in the contested border between two Eternal factions—the battle raged like the death throes of a dying cosmos. This ancient world, valued for its core of resources and essence that could forge weapons up to Paragon rank and beyond, had become a graveyard of stars.
Continents cracked under the weight of clashing Laws, oceans of liquid shadow boiled into vapor, and skies bled black ichor from wounds torn by forbidden arts. The Necroshade Empire, masters of Death and Darkness, clashed against the Radiant Eternal Order, guardians of Life and Light, in a war that had consumed fleets and worlds for centuries.
At the heart of the chaos, Vexar Thanor.... whom moved like a shadow given form and fury.
He was part of a unique race with roots tracing back to the Second Cosmic Cycle. They were the Nihilari, the very first of their kind, emerged from the primordial void. This origin granted them natural command over death and darkness.
But Vexar was no ordinary Nihilari—he was a regressor.
A regressor who had been at it since the Third Cosmic Cycle. He wasn't a progenitor, but he could certainly be counted among the Ancient Nihilari in his time. From his very first life, he carried a rare mutation in his bloodline that let him set checkpoints throughout his existence, points he could return to whenever he regressed.
Though at that time he couldn't retain his power but only knowledge.
That was until his final life that was about 450,000 years ago, upon waking in this regression, he had attained the title "Chronarch of Eternal Return," enhancing his ability to keep not just memories, but all his power—making him an undying force that grew with every "end."
Now, he sought his hidden treasures on Ebonheart—artifacts from past cycles that could tip everything....
Vexar floated over the fractured land, a massive silhouette of swirling darkness, his eyes twin voids that devoured all light. His skin, streaked with veins of sickly green against obsidian, shimmered faintly as shadowy tendrils of hair lashed in the cold, empty wind.
A Ninth Calamity warrior from the Necroshade Empire found himself up against a battalion of Radiant Order elites—Seventh and Eighth Calamity paladins clad in gleaming armor of pure light; wielding weapons forged from captured stars.
The paladin leader let out a fierce roar, the Law of Radiance blazing at full power as he unleashed a blinding beam of pure white energy.
"Begone, void-spawn! The light will finish you!"
Vexar let out a laugh, like the sound of graves splitting open, as he lifted a clawed hand. The Law of Death at full power surged forth, the beam decaying mid-air into ashen rot, whipping back in a necrotic blast that stripped the paladin's arm to bare bone.
The battalion surged ahead—hundreds of light-spears tearing through the sky.
Vexar unleashed the Law of Darkness at full power, shadows bursting outward in a shroud that swallowed the spears entirely. His talent kicked in—Umbral Regression Echo—sending each enemy attack spiraling back in reverse, their own light scorching their flesh.
BOOM! CRACK! ZAP!
Paladins screamed as their Laws turned inward, bodies crumbling to dust.
The Eighth Calamity commander charged ahead, his Law of Life at ninety percent keeping his allies steadily regenerating in the thick of battle. Vexar struck back with the Edict of Nihil at full strength—a calamity Law that wiped out existence on touch. The commander's healing faltered, his form unraveling into swirling shadows.
The battle wrapped up in moments—Vexar's claws tearing through the last of them, their essences drawn into his tendrils to keep his power rejuvenated. He drifted above the wreckage as the continent below crumbled into drifting void-dust.
"Another checkpoint set," he muttered, locking a mental anchor in time—just in case.
In an instant, he blinked back to the Necroshade base, a colossal fortress of living shadow drifting around Ebon's fractured moon.
The Nihilari generals, clad in dark armor, bowed low as he touched down.
"Lord Vexar, the Radiant dogs are falling back," one reported. "Did you uncover the hidden realm?"
Vexar's abyssal eyes glinted. "Not yet. But… I will. With those items, the Ebonheart core will be ours—and the war will end."
He allowed himself a faint, inward smirk. In his previous life, he'd stashed the artifacts here before falling to a Celestial ambush. This time, nothing could stand in his way.
The generals bowed their heads, a mix of fear and devotion in their eyes.
Vexar strode deeper into the fortress, shadows curling at his heels like faithful hounds.
The treasures would be his key.
And the galaxy, no, the universe… would become his playground once again.