But his will had not.
The World Tree stood alone in the heart of Chaos, its branches stretching toward stars it had not yet dreamed. Its roots had grown through stone and soul alike, drinking deep from the fractured Daos that pulsed beneath the surface.
And around it, the world began to breathe.
From the remains of his body and the buried pulse of the Chaos Stone, the world expanded. Not merely a land or a sky—but a multiversal womb of law and mystery.
His bones became mountains.
His flesh, the soil.
His blood, the rivers and seas.
His marrow, the stars.
And the Chaos Stone, fused with his spine, exploded outward in waves of reality—birthing not just a world, but a cosmic system of realms, each one shaped to house a Dao of its own.
From this eruption came the Three Thousand Great States, each corresponding to one of the 3,000 Primary Daos inscribed in the Creation Disc. Each state was a world unto itself, sculpted by the essence of a single Dao:
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The State of Time, where aeons loop and seconds hold infinite weight.
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The State of Flame, where suns are born in volcanic breath.
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The State of Void, an endless mirror of absence and echo.
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The State of Soul, where spirits walk in fleshless form.
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The State of Dream, which exists only when believed in.
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And thousands more, spinning in harmony and conflict, woven into the great tapestry of Chaos.
To sustain them, the World Tree shattered—not in death, but in divine purpose.
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It split into 3,000 lesser World Trees, one for each Great State.
Each tree was bound to the Dao that governed its realm, its roots diving deep into the law-veins of the world. From its trunk, it pulled power. Through its leaves, it released life. And at its heart, each tree anchored a Subspace Core—a unique realm within the state, like a divine organ, pumping energy through the land.
These Subspaces were bound to their parent Daos, evolving as the Dao evolved. Some were battlefields of elemental storms. Others were pure meditation realms, where time barely moved. Some were sealed vaults of knowledge. Others, twisted labyrinths that tested those who entered.
The Subspaces fed the states.
The trees stabilized the realm.
And all remained connected, in soul if not in form, to the Original World Tree, now hollow at the center of Chaos but alive with memory.
Between the Great States bloomed countless lesser realms—fragmented pockets of reality shaped by the Infinite Sub-Daos. These were the Secret Realms, hidden sanctuaries, chaotic zones, or divine testing grounds.
Some whispered of the Realm of Echoing Steel, where sound is weapon and silence is death.
Others feared the Labyrinth of Emotion, a living maze that bends to your heart’s truth.
Still others sought the Lotus Vault, rumored to hold the Dao of Rebirth, guarded by shadows that remember the first light.
Each realm was a petal of Chaos—wild, distinct, unbound.
And the Daos, now spread across existence, began to awaken.
Some aligned.
Some clashed.
Some waited in silence, growing in power, whispering to the realms they had made their thrones.
And in the midst of this awakening, the world took its first breath.
From a hollow in the base of the Original World Tree, a form began to take shape—not born, but remembered. Flesh woven from scattered Daos, wrapped in light and silence. It had no name. It had no past.
But it opened its eyes.
It was the first.
Not man. Not god. Not beast.
Something in-between. Something becoming.
Let me know if you want the next chapter to follow this first being—maybe their exploration of a Great State, or their first contact with a secret realm, or even their confrontation with a Dao gone rogue.