Filed Under: Aegis Multiversal Archive
Clearance: Ω-Restricted
Addendum: Public mythologies contradict the following record.
Across the Lowki Multiverse, mortals speak of gods.
They pray to them.
They fear them.
They build empires and wars upon their names.
They are wrong.
What mortals call gods — the Proven — are not divine in the original sense. They are not creators of reality, nor architects of existence. They are superhuman ascendants, beings who crossed thresholds no ordinary mind or body can endure, and survived long enough to matter.
They are proven, not born divine.
True gods once existed.
They are gone.
Before Proven, before empires, before even time was properly measured, there existed the Primordial Pantheon — beings not shaped by belief or bloodline, but by conceptual necessity.
Among them was the first and greatest:
End.
Not death.
Not destruction.
But Endings.
End was the beginning and the ending of all cycles — the point at which existence curled back upon itself. The first god. The last god. The serpent that devoured futures so new ones could exist.
Its true name is impossible to speak. Not forbidden — impossible. To pronounce it in full would take longer than a human lifetime, and by the time the name was spoken, the speaker would already be dead.
So mortals call it simply:
End.
The Primordial Gods eventually turned on End.
Not because End was evil — but because curiosity became cruelty, and cycles became games. End began to linger in endings. To savor pain. To stretch suffering longer than it needed to be.
The gods did not kill End.
They could not.
Instead, they sacrificed themselves to shatter it.
Each god burned their essence — not as weapons, but as anchors, tearing End apart across realities. This act saved existence… but at catastrophic cost.
The gods died.
Reality survived.
And End, wounded but laughing, scattered fragments of itself across the multiverse — the most infamous of which became known as:
The Ring of End.
Where the gods fell, nothing replaced them.
This void became known as The Godless Expanse — a dead multiversal region where divine law no longer applies.
A vast cosmic void littered with fractured celestial bodies, dead stars, and the remains of impossible architectures. Physics holds, but meaning does not. Time drifts. Reality scars linger.
This is where the Limitless Virus was born — a byproduct of divine energy detonated without guidance.
The Virus does not grant godhood.
It strips away limits.
Within the Godless Expanse lies Xylos, a ruined planet that once housed a civilization beyond current universal understanding.
Their mistake was simple:
They studied divine residue.
They learned how to touch it.
They did not learn how to survive it.
Xylos became the birthplace of the Limitless Virus — a contagion of ascension without balance. Their cities, such as Los Kravados, now stand as hunting grounds for demons and demonspawn.
The planet is dead.
Its consequences are not.
Demons originate from the Godless Expanse.
They are not gods.
They are not creations.
They are loyalists.
All demons serve End — not always knowingly, but instinctively. They cross realities seeking sensation, amusement, dominance, or worship.
They cannot exist long in the mortal plane without a shell — a willing host or pact-bound vessel.
Fiendish humanoids born of infernal heritage. Crimson skin, horns, glowing eyes, innate dark magic. Most are chaotic, cruel, or predatory.
Exception:
Luciandros, King of Demons of Xylos — a lawful evil anomaly who rules through absolute order, strategy, and calculated cruelty.
His heir, Xandros, is Chaotic Good — and despised for it.
The Proven dwell in the Heav Galaxy, within the Diamond Heart.
They are not gods.
They are ascended superhumans, elevated by one of three paths:
A mortal achieves such transcendence — intellectual, spiritual, or willful — that their existence gains cosmic weight.
Example:
The Death God — once a human monk whose obsession with suffering and silence elevated him into the Proven of Death.
When belief itself crystallizes into a mantle, sometimes long after the mortal is gone.
Example:
Saint Estes — whose faith became stronger than the man ever was.
Inherited resonance from ancient beings: dragons, giants, titans.
Most Broodspawn Ancients would ascend this way if not corrupted.
To mortals, the distinction is meaningless.
The Proven:
Command reality-adjacent forces
Shape fate on a planetary scale
Outlive civilizations
Demand reverence — willingly or not
But they did not create existence.
They inherited power from a broken system.
They are not eternal by nature.
They can fall.
They can fear.
And some of them are terrified of a man.
End still exists.
Bound.
Fragmented.
Contained — barely.
It manifests as a playful, childlike shadow — a serpent-eyed avatar that giggles at destruction and treats suffering as curiosity.
End is Chaotic Neutral — not because it lacks morality, but because it exists beyond judgment.
To End:
All things must end.
So all things should be enjoyed.
Especially when they scream.
Lazarus Kane is not Proven.
He is worse.
He is a mortal who beat death repeatedly — not through immortality, but refusal. Each failed execution fractured the Death God’s certainty.
Kane is not a god.
He is a cosmic error — a soul the Diamond Heart cannot claim.
To mortals, he is a gang king.
To gods, he is proof that divinity can fail.
The Death God fears him.
And fear, among the Proven, is the closest thing to blasphemy.
The multiverse is not ruled by gods.
It is haunted by their absence.
The Proven stand where gods once stood — powerful, flawed, and terrified of what still watches from the Godless Expanse.
And End?
End is patient.
End always is.