Going back to the era before the descent of Gods and Demons upon the earth, before the great hundred year war, before Dante Ruthwilfer ever existed.
Before all of them, there was a cosmic struggle between two primordial powerhouses, Light and Darkness.
Darkness wished to consume all that existed, while Light chose to shine brighter with each passing day. Their conflict tore through space and time without pause, echoing across the endless void.
The clash continued relentlessly until both were finally destroyed, their collapsing energies scattering across the galaxy and giving birth to new life among the stars.
Yet within that destruction, one essence was formed. The remnants of Light and Darkness mixed together, and from their combined remains, a being conjured herself into existence. She emerged as a female entity known as Kilamahi.
Before she became the Goddess of War, Kilamahi did not know what she wanted, nor did she understand the path set before her.
She existed without direction as more Gods were born from Light itself, each one emerging with purpose already defined.
Even Demons were birthed under Light, despite their connection to Darkness. Still, with every birth, Light and Darkness never truly coexisted.
The essence that formed the beings known as Gods originated from Light, even though some were born beneath the shadow of Darkness.
The Gods viewed themselves as almighty and chose to rule over the cosmos. They declared their authority absolute and shaped the universe according to their will.
Yet from the depths of Darkness, Demons emerged in response, some of them also birthed by Light.
The Gods diminished themselves and proclaimed their existence as supreme within the cosmos.
In turn, the Demons also deemed themselves superior, believing they were the rightful challengers to dominion.
One side blamed the other, accusations piling endlessly upon accusations, until the cycle of conflict began once more.
Gods and Demons fought endlessly for authority, each claiming the right to rule the cosmos.
Neither side realized that even when they believed themselves absolute, there would always be another mountain higher than the one they stood upon.
They were unaware of Kilamahi's existence.
From afar, in another cosmic world untouched by their war, Kilamahi observed silently as the two sides clashed for absolute control. She watched their battles unfold, their victories and losses repeating without end.
Kilamahi studied them, questioning why they desired to rule. Seeking answers, she ventured outward, traveling from galaxies to the wider cosmos, passing through countless worlds one after another.
On one planet, she observed small life forms kneeling in devotion, praying to a god she knew did not exist.
Curious, she moved on to another planet, and then another, witnessing similar acts repeated in countless forms.
She manifested herself before a life form and asked why they prayed, even though she knew their god was not real. The being spoke of hope, protection, and belief, concepts unfamiliar to her.
As she listened to tales and folklore she had never heard before, Kilamahi continued her journey, crossing from planet to planet.
She studied all forms of knowledge, gathering stories, beliefs, and truths, hoping to discover her own purpose in existence.
Years passed and turned into eons. Eventually, she reached what she believed would be the final planet of her journey.
It was there that she noticed a black thickness lingering in plain sight. Kilamahi felt curiosity rise within her, yet she remained patient and chose to finish her pursuit of knowledge before approaching it.
When she was done, she returned and saw that the black landscape had grown immense, stretching endlessly before her. She stepped forward and entered the vast darkness.
Within it, she found no light, no planets, not a single trace of life. There was only a pure void of nothingness. Unknowingly, she felt a foreign power seeping into her being, slowly and steadily.
She withdrew quickly, unsettled by the intensity of the darkness she had encountered.
As she closed her eyes, she felt warmth surround her. When she opened them, she gazed upon a light so brilliant that not even the sun itself could compare.
The contrast lingered within her, unseen yet ever present, as her existence stood between both extremes.
She imagined what would happen if Demons or Gods were to lay their hands upon this power. Knowing full well the consequences, she did not hesitate.
Kilamahi began absorbing both Light and Darkness, drawing them into herself as their opposing forces resisted yet yielded.
Far away, just a few cosmos apart, the Gods felt an unfamiliar presence. It was vast, overwhelming, and suffocating, a power so immense it carried the potential to erase all that stood in its path. Even the eldest among them felt unease stir within their divine cores.
Alarm spread quickly. One by one, the Gods gathered, tracing the source of this anomaly. They moved with urgency, converging toward the location of the growing power.
Kilamahi sensed their approach. She remained calm, fully aware that her task was not yet complete. Until she fully consumed the Light and Darkness, she would not stop.
She raised her hand and cut her finger. Her blood fell freely, scattering across the void like falling embers. Where each drop touched the emptiness, life began to form.
From nothingness, figures emerged, men and women shaped with human features, their bodies solidifying as her essence flowed into them.
They knelt before her without command, bowing their heads in reverence. To them, she was their creator.
Kilamahi spoke and told them to stop the Gods from reaching her. She bestowed upon them infinite blessings, sharing fragments of her power.
Within them flowed both Light and Darkness, intertwined with the force she was still consuming.
The newly born beings lifted their voices and pleaded for a name, seeking identity and purpose. Kilamahi looked upon them and spoke the name she had chosen.
She gave them a clan name, a family name, a house name.
Alderman.
With the Alderman House standing as guardians before their goddess, the God Clan finally arrived and beheld Kilamahi.
It was their first direct confrontation. Without hesitation, the Gods charged forward, intent on stopping Kilamahi from claiming all of the power.
The Alderman answered in kind, surging ahead as war erupted into spiraling chaos across the void.
Gods fell, their divine forms shattered, while countless Alderman lost their lives beneath overwhelming force.
They knew they were no match for the Gods, yet their loyalty to Kilamahi never wavered. Even as they were struck down, they rose again until their bodies could no longer endure.
Minutes passed, though it felt like an eternity. In the aftermath, only five Alderman remained standing, their bodies bloodied and broken.
Bruises marked every inch of them as they struggled to stay upright. The Gods walked past them as though they were nothing more than insects beneath their notice, advancing toward Kilamahi with confidence.
As the Gods moved to seize the power within her, something unexpected occurred.
The four remaining Alderman turned toward the last of their kind. Without hesitation or fear, they took their own lives, offering their blood freely. Their essence flowed into the final Alderman, merging into one.
A colossal pressure erupted outward. The sudden shift in power pressed down upon the Gods, heavy and suffocating, carrying a single message clear enough to feel.
Kill on sight.
In a single blink, all the Gods turned and descended upon the last Alderman standing.
Alone, he placed himself between them and his creator, his body trembling under the weight of what he now carried, yet his resolve unbroken.
Kilamahi watched her creation stand firm.
She looked upon their loyalty and sacrifice, and for the first time, pain took hold of her heart.
She longed to intervene, to shield them from what was coming. Yet she knew why she must not stop.
With Light and Darkness still flowing into her, Kilamahi remained where she was, continuing to absorb their power, even as the cost unfolded before her eyes.
As the last Alderman fought with all his remaining strength, he tore through the divine regime, facing them all as a single individual.
His rage boiled endlessly as limbs were torn from his body, an eye gouged from its socket, muscles shredded, and bones twisted beyond form.
Yet he did not fall.
Through sheer will, he endured, and with one final surge, he struck down the last God before him.
Only two remained.
Those two stepped back, not in fear of him alone, but in realization. They knew what must be done. They raised their voices and called upon their final savior.
One of them blew a horn, its sound echoing across the cosmos. From nothingness, a powerful God emerged. Its arrival warped space itself. Its presence stood equal to that of the last Alderman. It was the first birthed God.
The one that called itself the Almighty.
It named itself the Nothing of Gods.
The last Alderman raised his broken blade, standing his ground, ready to face what stood before him.
But even the most powerful beings are not spared from fate. With a single stomp of its foot, the Almighty crushed the last Alderman beneath it, cursing him as it did so, its bare foot pressing the life from Kilamahi's final creation.
Kilamahi watched in horror as the last of her creations died protecting her.
The Almighty approached her, its expression locked in smug satisfaction. It thanked her for gathering such immense power in one place, intending to claim it for itself. It lifted a finger and tilted her chin upward, studying her expression closely.
What it saw was not submission.
Kilamahi was broken. Tears of blood flowed from her eyes, falling silently into the void. Her heart pounded violently within her chest, beating loud enough for even the Almighty to hear.
As it prepared to take the power of Light and Darkness for itself, Kilamahi screamed.
Her scream carried rage beyond sound. Her face cracked, fractures spreading across her skin, followed by her body itself. Power surged uncontrollably outward.
The resulting burst annihilated multiple planets, shattered stars, and collapsed black holes. The cosmos itself bowed before Kilamahi.
The Almighty was not impressed, but it understood the danger she had become. It offered her a seat among the God Clan, speaking as though extending mercy.
In a single blink, its arm was severed.
Kilamahi's form began to settle. Her skin turned black as the void itself, adorned with jewels of gold and molten cosmic matter.
The jewels covered her form where needed, forged from condensed power rather than modesty.
Her figure was both divine and unholy. Her eyes burned white like the heavens, while her hair flowed long and white, reaching all the way to her feet.
She no longer stood between Light and Darkness.
She stood above them.
As the saying goes, there is nothing stronger than God.
For Kilamahi, she was the true nothing.
The two squared off, and Kilamahi descended upon the Almighty with savage force, barbarically beating it without restraint. Each strike carried the weight of Light and Darkness combined. The Almighty attempted to study her movements, calculating and observing, confident in its superiority.
Yet it was caught off guard.
There was no pattern.
Kilamahi fought as if she had no form, no discipline, no structure. Her movements were neither divine nor martial. She did not rely on technique, stances, or gestures.
Instead, she moved like one who danced through destruction, attacking with everything she possessed, wild and unrestrained, as though instinct itself guided her blows.
Their battle tore through existence itself. They crashed from the multiverse into the xenoverse, shattering realms as they went.
Countless worlds were erased, and eons of life vanished in the wake of their conflict, civilizations ending before they could ever be remembered.
For the first time in its countless eons of ruling the cosmos, the Almighty was pushed back.
Yet its greed for absolute power blinded it. It surged forward again and again, refusing retreat, driven by the belief that nothing could truly surpass it.
That belief ended when Kilamahi struck.
With her trident, she pierced through the Almighty, ending its reign in a single decisive moment.
Even in death, the Almighty laughed. Its voice echoed across the broken systems and fractured timelines.
It mocked Kilamahi, claiming that she had destroyed all order, all structure, and all continuity of existence itself.
With its final words, it promised that it would return.
But the cosmos remained silent, bearing witness to the truth that had been revealed.
There was something stronger than God.
Nothing.
With the last remnants of the Almighty fading from existence, Kilamahi looked around and gazed upon the fallen order and the chaos left behind.
Silence followed, vast and suffocating.
Blame settled upon her. She blamed herself.
She danced.
Kilamahi danced without pause, her movements unending. As she danced, the cosmos responded violently. Space tore apart, black voids and wormholes catapulting into existence with every step, every turn, every uncontrolled motion of her body.
Her dance became annihilation. Entire planetary ecosystems were erased in moments, all life reduced to nothingness. Each movement reset reality itself, collapsing phenomena and rebuilding them only to be destroyed again. The universe twisted, folded, and unraveled in rhythm with her motion.
The dance continued until her strength finally gave way.
Kilamahi crashed forward with a piercing scream that echoed across the empty expanse. In the next instant, she came to a halt, legs crossed, seated in stillness, as though the chaos had never existed.
She remained there, catching her breath.
Slowly, she lifted her gaze and looked upon what had been newly created. Resting in her hand was a small sphere, no larger than a clenched fist. Within it pulsed the foundation of a new system, fragile yet infinite in possibility.
She looked around her surroundings. Everything was white, endless and untouched, like a blank canvas awaiting its first stroke.
A new system rested at her fingertips.
And now, Kilamahi stood as its architect, free to reshape it however she pleased.
As eons passed, Kilamahi built her own system. She named it the Galaverse. Her first priority was to recreate the Alderman as humans once more, and then she shaped a planet for them to inhabit, a place of life and purpose.
The Alderman continued to worship Kilamahi, giving her many names over the ages—The Annihilator, The Goddess of War, The Omniscient One.
Yet, in time, the House agreed upon a single name, one that Kilamahi herself found touching. It eased her heart, lifting a burden she had carried since the beginning of her existence.
They called her Mother.
More life began to spread throughout the Galaverse—planets, black holes, stars, galaxies, multiverses, xenoverses, omniverses, all that could exist and beyond.
Life propagated across every corner of creation, each species forming its own beliefs, worshipping Gods of their own making, and shaping worlds in ways Kilamahi watched with curiosity and quiet detachment.
In one universe, her gaze fell upon an individual capable of obliterating anything with a single strike. This being, silently, a One Punch Man, marveling at its raw, singular power.
In another universe, two small creatures played a game of chess. But the chessboard was no ordinary one—it spanned multiple universes.
Kilamahi found the spectacle trivial, pathetic even, and erased them along with their counterparts across the Galaverse.
She also wiped out a being who sought to dominate a galaxy, ending its ambitions before they could ever take shape.
Her eyes moved to yet another universe, where a being called the Shadow Monarch had painstakingly rebuilt his world to save his loved ones and restore those lost in the Monarch War.
She paused, watching silently, her judgment withheld, her mind drifting to the memory of the Almighty's final words—how it had promised to return, in full prime, to claim what it could not.
Kilamahi then peered further, beyond eons into the future, observing countless "what if" scenarios.
She watched civilizations rise and fall, universes bloom and decay, possibilities branching endlessly.
After countless eons of observation, she found one scenario—a thread in the weave of fate—that led to a good ending.
But the cost was clear.
The Alderman House, her first and most loyal creations, must face extinction.
But in order to achieve this, Kilamahi began writing a script—a proper script, detailing the life of a boy not from this world, one who would be granted a second chance at existence. He would be born with a purpose, molded to carry the weight of what was to come.
He would learn, grow, and prepare for a war—not in his own world, but in a realm where the Alderman name would be his birthright, a legacy he would inherit.
His modern knowledge, drawn from his previous life, would become a beacon of hope in his reborn world.
And Kilamahi herself would be sealed within him, lying dormant, waiting for the precise moment to awaken.
As Kilamahi wrote the script, she created a false prophecy. It foretold the extinction of the Alderman and claimed that a child would be born within the next hundred years after the Great War.
With meticulous care, she sent the prophecy to the Alderman who would heed it.
The Alderman, in their prime—beings capable of outmatching even dragons or Gods—received the prophecy. Without hesitation or question, they began their decisive plans.
The Patriarch of the Alderman dispatched ten thousand women to bear childrens, even his own daughters, regardless of status—beggars, outcasts, or even prostitutes.
The women accepted the task without complaint, understanding the weight of preserving the House's bloodline.
Meanwhile, the men gathered materials, clothing, and libraries of knowledge. Mountains of wealth were collected, carefully stored, and prepared.
Every resource was secured, every precaution made, for the moment their House would need to rise again after the inevitable passing of its elders.
The stage was set. The script had begun. And Kilamahi waited, her presence folded into the unseen, guiding the threads of fate toward the world she had envisioned.
But there was one matter at hand—the Great War. The Alderman had agreed to assist the other races in ending the conflict caused by the God and Demon Houses.
The Demon Clan, however, had no interest in war. They were forced into it by the angels of the God Clan, dragged into a battle they had no desire to fight.
It was a dark time, marked by racism, betrayal, and harsh treatment between races. Countless lives were lost, and societies fractured under the weight of hatred.
In the end, the war concluded only through the ultimate sacrifice: the holiest and highest priests of each race gave their lives to seal away the God Clan and the Demon Clan, locking their power and halting their conflict forever.
Even traitors like Ingrid Von Balmung, former Sovereign of the Dragon Clan and now Leader of the Ten Commandments of the Demon Army, were caught in the aftermath.
Her only regret was never killing the Patriarch of the Alderman House, whom she had considered a worthy opponent.
The Alderman Patriarch, unshaken, smirked at her. He raised a hand in defiance, giving her the middle finger, and spoke with calm finality, it would not be him she will face.
Instead, it would be the promised child of the Alderman foretold in Kilamahi's prophecy.
As the war ended and silence fell across the battlefield, Kilamahi began her execution of the prophecy. She hesitated at first, watching from the void.
Then, her gaze fell upon the Patriarch himself. He looked up at the night sky, seated upon his throne, the weight of centuries on his shoulders.
Raising a trembling hand, he called out to her. His voice was desperate yet reverent, the final wish of a dying leader: to see her face—the Goddess of War, the Omniscient One, their Mother, their Creator.
In a single blink, Kilamahi appeared before him. She allowed him to embrace her as a child would embrace a mother, his body weak but his spirit unbroken.
The Patriarch breathed his last in her arms, a serene smile etched across his face. Kilamahi gently laid him back upon his throne, seated with dignity, and closed her eyes.
Then she began her step, her dance.
But this dance was not of destruction—it was a dance of hope, a dance to turn the tide, to preserve and save her people.
She moved with purpose, her steps igniting the molten substance of Kalikrikthar, the sacred forging material she had blessed and gifted to the Alderman centuries before.
Flames of creation surged with each movement, bending reality to her will.
Her dance completed the cycle of life and death. All the Alderman perished, their legacy ending in sacrifice, save for the infants—those who cried out as their mothers fell either before or after childbirth.
As word of the Alderman's extinction spread, dozens of other races and rival houses rushed to claim their weapons, knowledge, and secrets.
Kilamahi, foreseeing this, erected a shield of unimaginable power. Not even she could enter it unless she willed it.
Only the destined child, the one she had foretold in her script, could pass through. Yet even then, he would need to prove himself—the true inheritor of the Alderman legacy, the one their House had waited for across the eons.
Kilamahi did her own work. She created a clone of herself and entrusted it with a singular task: to be sealed within the destined child, to serve as his guide and teacher.
The clone would instruct him in magic, godly and demonic powers, and forbidden arts throughout his journey.
One day, the child would inherit her full power.
The other Kilamahi transformed into a tiny, radiant light and began her journey to find the destined child, traveling across the Galaverse to watch over him, unseen yet ever-present.
Meanwhile, the original Kilamahi sat in her own realm, entering a secluded meditation.
She did not know how long she would remain in this state, whether it would be centuries or eons, for the time of her awakening would only come when it was truly needed.
For the destined child was their only hope. He alone would bear the burden of confronting what remained—the one that could threaten all existence:
The Almighty.
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