Creation of the Alpha Universe

There was a very ancient prophecy spoken of through the heavens-one that foretold of a being, neither god nor mortal, who would shake the very foundation of life. Most had thought this nothing more than myth, a tale spun by the lesser gods to frighten the Greater Gods. Yet, as the divine order finally fractured and war was looming, with the resurfacing of old rivalries, there came a miracle that had never been seen before: a mortal born under a conjunction of stars that had never been recorded before.

His name was Vince Ikeng.

To understand the weight of his existence, one would need to look into Vortex, where the trickster god of mastery over mind and will, Ikeng, long walked among mortals under the guise of Richard. Centuries he contained his divine powers, concealing his identity lest the agents of chaos were attracted. He had lived a passionate life, threading through time without giving into any of those mortal temptations that might show him for what he truly was. That buckled the day he met Beatrice, a woman of unbending will and acumen and a heart with weight from justice. What came forth was what could never have been-a god in mortal flesh fathering a child, forbidden amongst his type.

Vince's birth was an event no less than a cosmic disturbance. He was from two worlds, the divine spark of his father and the indomitable spirit of his mother. His existence alone could upset the balance of power, be the fulcrum upon which fate itself would tilt. Yet, his destiny remained shrouded. Was he to rise as the savior or as a harbinger of destruction?

That had been the answer, buried beneath the tragedy of 1993 chronicled in Vortex, as Richard Ikeng gave his life to stop the agent of chaos and was swept into the plane of the gods. Vince no longer had a father, but the wheels of prophecy had now been set into motion.

The Return to the Realm of the Gods

Power crackled through the air as Ikeng stepped across into the divine plane. His presence did not go unnoticed: To the Greater Gods, long content in their dominion, he was a figure of contempt and suspicion. His defiance of Celestial fiat-his blending of divine and mortal blood-was a transgression that could not go unanswered.

Within the heart of the divine realm stood unyielding the Pantheon Citadel of celestial stone, wherein only the mightiest of gods convened. Ikeng entered, silent in his steps but thunderous in his presence. Before him sat the High Tribunal beings of immeasurable power, led by Amashan, the All-Father himself, a god so ancient that even time bowed to his will.

"Ikeng," Amashan intoned, his voice a tremor through the heavens. "You have returned, but not as you once were. You have broken the sacred covenant."

Ikeng met his gaze unflinching. "I have broken nothing but the illusions of control you have long held over us. The child is born, and he carries within him a fate none of you can yet comprehend."

The gods murmured among themselves, their celestial voices weaving threads of discord. To some, Vince was an abomination, an anomaly that should be erased before his power awakened. Others, however, recognized that his birth might be the answer to the growing instability within the Pantheon.

Aya stood, the goddess of war. Unlike all the others, she did not fear conflict but embraced it. In the soft, otherworldly glow of the chamber, her crimson armor shone. "If the prophecy speaks true, then this child is more than a mere accident. He is the pivot upon which our war may end or be lost forever."

Another voice, shrill as broken glass, pierced through the argument. "And what do you propose? That we let this half-blood determine the fate of gods?" It was Uzoma, the god of judgment, whose cold gaze hung on Ikeng like an executioner's axe.

Ikeng's expression didn't move. "You have a choice: you may cast your fear upon an innocent or ready yourself for what's to come. The chaos we long feared isn't afar, but it's at our doors, creeping in through the cracks of our broken Pantheon.

The chamber was silent. For the first time, the gods faced the grim reality that their grip on fate, which once had absolute dominion over everything that existed, was loosening. The prophecy they had dismissed was no longer a whisper but a storm on the horizon.

A decision was reached: Vince Ikeng wasn't to be hunted, but neither was he to be coddled. He would forge his own way in life, and the gods wouldn't intervene. Yet, they would be watching-some with hope, while others await the fall.

Yet Ikeng wasn't done. He turned to Amashan, the All-Father, his voice heavy with defiance. "I will not let my son face this alone. If you will not stand against the coming storm, then I will."

Amashan's eyes narrowed. "You overstep, Ikeng. You presume too much."

"Perhaps," Ikeng said, "but I have always been willing to pay the price."

With that, he left the Pantheon Citadel, knowing full well that his defiance would not go unpunished. The Pantheon would never be the same again, and the war that had long been whispered of was finally upon them.

Echoes of the Mortal World

His life was spent far from any sphere of heaven; Vince Ikeng had lived, blind to the upheaval which accompanied his birth. No god, no warrior-just a boy growing up in the world not ready for him.

But fate wasn't so kind to those born for great things. Shadows pulled at the edges of his life: whispers in the dark, the feeling of eyes upon him. His mother, Beatrice, knew the truth, and she couldn't keep him safe from what was coming. All she could do was get him ready for that day when the blindfold of normalcy would be ripped away and he would face the truth about what kind of man he was going to become.

Meanwhile, across the realms, forces stirred. Long-silent agents of chaos now moved. Gods with a wish to see this prophecy fulfilled created their own plans. And deep within the heart of the Pantheon, there sat Amashan upon his throne, aware that in this game of fate, the next move was no longer his to make.

The war had begun, and Vince Ikeng was at its center.