Creation of the Alpha Universe

The Awakening of Vince Ikeng(Vortex)

Vince Ikeng had always felt like an outsider. His mother, Beatrice, had instructed him to trust his instincts, but he could not have been prepared for the day his world came crashing down.

It began as rumors—voice in the darkness, speaking a language he did not understand yet felt oddly, incomprehensibly familiar. They began as bad dreams. But they could not be ignored: dim lights with each movement made, objects leaping back from him as he reached out to grasp them, and dreaming of a war never fought—monsters and gods forever at war.

There was the night when the heavens tore open.

Vince was walking home along Onitch's peaceful streets when the sky grew dark to a deep, unnatural red. The stars in the sky twisted and reformed, making shapes unexplainable. A blinding crack split the air, and the storm began to rain down.

Lightning crackled out of the heavens, but not lightning of this world—it carried the divine ember of Twasa, God of Thunder. The ground trembled, and hooded figures emerged from the shadows, their eyes shining with an otherworldly golden glow.

Their leader stepped forward, his voice empty and cold. "Vince Ikeng. The gods have spoken. It is time."

Just as Vince was able to move, the air rippled and a knife flashed toward him. An assassin, cloaked in darkness, jumped off of rooftops, planning on ending his life before his power was even unlocked. Vince barely dodged the strike, the knife slicing his arm.

A shaft of gold fire exploded out of the sky, striking the assassin in flight and reducing him to ashes. From the shadows emerged a woman, her hair silver falling like moonlight, her robes aglow with colors of dawn. Nsi-Osa, the Goddess of Healing, had arrived.

"Run," she commanded, her tone imperative. "You are not yet prepared. But someday, you will be forced to make a decision."

Vince did not argue. He spun and sprinted, his heart pounding as the streets of Onitch blazed past him. The red sky colored the city in an otherworldly glow, and the air electric with energy. He could sense the weight of the gods' gaze upon him, their presence thick as a storm on the verge of releasing itself.

The Council of the Lesser Gods

Deep in the hidden temple of the lesser deities, the chamber trembled with fervent argument. Twasa, the Thunder God, raged back and forth, his spear sizzling with divine energy. "We cannot allow the Greater Gods to decide this. The child must be protected."

Ekwueme, Goddess of Prosperity, leaned back on her hand, her golden eyes sweeping the others. "Guarded? Or guided? If he's going to decide the destiny of gods and men, he can't remain in the dark forever."

Ikeng, the Trickster God and God of Wisdom, sat silently, his fingers crossed before him. He had always known that his mortal son would inevitably be swept into the cosmic game, but now that the moment had come, even he could not predict the outcome.

"He has to be instructed in the truth," Ikeng finally said. "And he has to be instructed in it by us before Amashan and the Greater Gods warp his mind to their ends."

They nodded. Even Ajiju, God of Destruction, nodded his approval. "There is no stopping him from this war. But there is preparing him."

It was decided. Vince Ikeng would be brought before them.

The Greater Gods' Judgment

Amashan, All-Father, stood at the lofty throne of the Pantheon Citadel, lost in thought behind the shifting constellations which girded the celestial dome of the world of the gods. Aya, goddess of war, who stood at his side, her arms crossed over her breasts, her features unfathomable.

"You permitted Ikeng to stroll freely," said Uhamshu, lord of the seven seas, his spittle frothing with his hard-gouged control over anger. "The half-blood lives. Why?"

"Because," Amashan answered, his voice distant, "his life is not ours to control."

Osu-wa, the goddess of the moon, frowned. "Then we do nothing? The boy possesses a power that can destroy us all."

Aya eventually broke the silence. "And if he may be employed as a weapon against the coming chaos? What then?"

Silence fell on the chamber. They all knew the storm on the horizon was no longer a danger at a distance but a fact at hand. Forces of destruction were awakened, and the instruments of chaos were hidden.

Amashan's gaze turned toward the mortal plane. "Let us see what he becomes."

The Trial of Power

Vince awoke somewhere he didn't know. The air hummed with a golden glow, and before him stood the assembled lesser gods. His father, Ikeng, stood among them, yet different—more radiant, more venerable.

"What is this?" Vince demanded. "What do you want from me?"

"To ready you," Ikeng said, his voice unreadable. "For what comes next."

Wind raged about him, and the shape of Vince lifted from the earth. Voltages coursed through his blood, voltages of power impossible for any man to imagine in his veins. His thoughts were assaulted by imagery: the struggle of gods, civilizations in destruction, his own hands stained red.

"You must choose," said Twasa. "You are not man or god. You are storm between worlds."

Vince strained, his body quivering with raw, uncontrolled strength. "I don't want this!"

Ekwueme put a hand on his shoulder. "And yet, destiny does not ask for permission."

The ground around him groaned. A shadow darker than the void itself entered the space between them. Ajiju, the God of Destruction, looked up. "They have found us."

A portal ripped apart, and out of it stepped figures hidden in darkness. The agents of chaos had come.

The First Battle

The sanctuary was disrupted. Vince barely had time to process what was occurring before one of the shadowed figures launched an attack against him. He reacted on instinct, dodging the attack with supernatural speed.

Ikeng unleashed a flood of golden energy, sending two of the intruders crashing to the ground. Twasa's thunder rolled across the battlefield, and Ekwueme spun sigils of protection around Vince. But the enemy would not be swayed.

Vince felt something awakening within him. His hands crackled with energy, and he instinctively unleashed a blast of energy that sent his attacker stumbling back. And for the first time, he knew.

He was not just human. He was something more.

As he continued to fight, a voice echoed in his mind, one that was greater than time itself.

"Awaken, Vince Ikeng. Your destiny awaits."

A Reckoning

When the final foe was eliminated, the sanctuary was in ruins. The gods stood around Vince, their expressions emotionless.

"You are powerful," Ikeng said. "But power alone will not save you."

Vince stood eyeball to eyeball with his father. "Then tell me. What am I?"

The answer was one that would upend everything.

The Streets of Onitch

Vince reeled back out onto the streets of Onitch, his body still humming with the residual power of the battle. The red sky had receded, but the city itself was changed—electric, as if it too had felt the power of the gods' presence.

He realized his world would never be the same. The whispers in the night, the visions, the electricity running through his body—it was all connected. And as he walked along the streets that were so familiar to him, he couldn't help but wonder if the storm had just begun.

Somewhere in the shadows, unseen eyes watched him. The agents of chaos were still around, and they would not sleep until he was dead—or until he took the power that could change the fate of gods and mortals both.

Vince clenched his fists, the power inside him burning once more. He had no idea what he was becoming, but one thing was certain: he would not run from it.

The storm was gathering, and at its center was Vince Ikeng.