Elytheum.
A world that is 100 times larger than Earth and hosts a plethora of powerful creatures and magic, but few are ancient enough to remember the old age of the goddess Lilith.
For thousands of years, Elytheum has been fighting for its survival ever since its creator, Lilith, was betrayed by her closest friend, Uriel, who imprisoned her deep inside the Unspoken Realm.
Elytheum lost its goddess, and to add more salt to the wound, it lost its foundation—its spine.
Those zealous, xenophobic humans and their unholy pact with an undead dragon burned the one thing that bound Elytheum together.
The World Tree.
A tragedy for all the mortals on Elytheum.
For centuries after the fall of the World Tree, Elytheum bled quietly.
Its skies dimmed, its rivers thinned, and its lands—once teeming with miracles—turned brittle and cold. Magic itself became fractured, leaking through invisible wounds that no mortal hand could mend.
The mortals of Elytheum had not known peace since. Without Lilith, their prayers no longer found an answer.
Without the Tree, the natural order began to rot. Forests grew twisted, birthing beasts that defied reason. Oceans turned violent, swallowing whole continents as if the world sought to reclaim its own sorrow.
And more importantly, unwelcome gods found their way into Elytheum, hoping to claim a piece of the pie for themselves.
Elytheum is a primordial-rank world—a big, tasty, and defenseless fruit ripe for the picking.
But Elytheum was not dead.
Even in its decay, the world remembered. Beneath the ashes of its shattered roots, it planned, waited, bided its time for the perfect moment. And that moment came in the shape of a young mortal.
A mortal that Elytheum protected for thousands of years by burning its life force to keep the protective barrier on—its only hope.
The Breeder Morgana.
Elytheum had chosen her—not as a mere vessel, but as its beating heart. And through one of the natives who could wield nature magic, Elytheum managed to plant its seed inside the Breeder's womb.
Now, for the first time in centuries, Elytheum dared to hope again.
A new World Tree had risen.
From the heart of Morgana's womb, life once more dared to defy extinction.
What was lost in fire was reborn in flesh.
What was stolen by betrayal was reclaimed by desire.
Elytheum—once silent, cracked, and bleeding—now thrummed again with divine rhythm.
Its pulse returned, carried through veins of molten gold that webbed across the land, connecting mountain to sea, forest to sky.
Where once the world wept, now it sighed.
Where once it decayed, now it dreamed.
The air shimmered. Magic, pure and ancient, no longer screamed in pain but danced.
Every leaf, every drop of dew, every grain of soil trembled in reverence to the newborn giant that pierced the heavens. The World Tree's light spread across continents, reaching even the most forsaken corners of the realm. Forgotten ruins awoke, glowing faintly as old glyphs burned anew with life. Sacred beasts stirred from their slumber beneath mountains, feeling the Mother's warmth return for the first time in millennia.
And above it all—
She stood.
Morgana.
The Goddess. The Breeder. The Mother. The Divine Womb that had rewritten destiny and was now blessed by the existence that carries the entire universe in its cosmic roots.
....
Badump!
A single heartbeat echoed through the land—the very rhythm of existence itself. Every creature felt it, yet few understood its meaning.
One of them was an elf.
In a dimly lit royal chamber, a tall, mature, slender, elegant elven woman sat on a luxurious chair, eyes focused on the book in her hand. She had long blonde hair and sharp, pointy ears.
"Hmm?"
She raised her head from her book, gazing at the bright moon through the crystalline glass of her chamber window. The moonlight shimmered faintly across her pale skin, catching the tiny runes that marked her collarbone—ancient sigils of royalty long thought meaningless.
But tonight… they glowed.
Soft, golden light pulsed faintly beneath her skin, like embers awakening after a long slumber. Her eyes—emerald and ancient—widened as the sensation surged through her body.
"...No," she whispered, standing so abruptly her chair fell behind her. "That's impossible…"
"Your Majesty?"
One of the two young elven girls who had been busy worshipping the queen's royal cock asked, fearing that she had done something wrong.
The queen didn't reply; she simply stepped over them, walking slowly toward the balcony. She was totally naked, her body adorned with many jewels in the form of nipple clamps and golden chains.
However, most of the jewelry was focused on her royal cock—golden cock rings, gold chains from head to base, golden piercings, and a golden ball-bra.
Gold was a symbol of nobility, and a golden cock was the symbol of the queen.
After all, the elves chose their queen in the most stupid but horny way possible:
Whoever's got the biggest dick gets the crown and the riches.
"That pulse…" she murmured, her brow furrowing as she pressed a hand to her chest, feeling the echo of that heartbeat ripple through her being. "It cannot be. Not after so long."
The elves in particular were connected to the World Tree. Their very souls were bound by its magic. The connection was so deep and true that it became an ingrained part of their identity.
If something happened to the Tree, the elves would feel it.
That pulse.
It felt like a beating heart. A divine pulse that filled every elf with hope and awe. It wasn't just a heartbeat—it was an echo of a greater power.
And the queen of elves felt it and knew its meaning.
A smile spread across her face.
"At last, after all this time... we can hope again."
However, in the next second, the right half of her face darkened, her skin turned black, and her right eye glowed red, her features contorting into an expression of pure evil—a paradox to the soft beauty of the rest of her face.
"At last, I can fulfill my destiny... and rip this world apart."
....
High above the clouds in the land of light and purity, beyond the reach of sorrow,
A majestic city hung like a crown of polished alabaster and glass. Towers knitted with bridges of light, plazas paved with moonstone, fountains that sang the names of saints—every surface gleamed as though the dawn had been arrested and made into architecture.
The City of Silver.
Built by Uriel inside the stolen heavenly domain of Lilith.
The city served as a reward for those who spent their lives serving the Goddess of Light, preaching the holy virtues, and spreading the message of purity.
An eternal life with no sorrow.
Every citizen was blessed with immortality, granted eternal youth by the goddess. No mortal disease could touch the citizens here. No plague could claim them. Their minds remained sharp; their bodies remained firm and perfect.
The Goddess of Light, Uriel... loved them for it.
A perfect ground for farming faith and breeding angels.
In one of the houses on the lower levels of the City of Silver, a young maiden knelt before a polished altar. She was young, like the rest of the faithful.
Age had no meaning anymore.
The girl had long, smooth golden hair and eyes of the same color—a signature of the heritage of her people.
It had been months since the girl came here as an offering to the goddess, and for months she did everything that was required of her.
"Blessed be the Light that gives all," she whispered, her tone mechanical, practiced, worn smooth from endless repetition. "Blessed be Her purity that cleanses our hearts of desire…"
But her mind was adrift—drawn to something she couldn't name, a rhythm echoing faintly in her chest.
Something strange happened two days ago.
Like every woman that lived here, the girl had been blessed by Uriel—made a vessel of her creations, given the gift of eternal youth, and the grace of immortality.
A perfect life without age, disease, or sorrow.
And she must give life too.
A holy union between a human maiden and an angel.
Every three days, the girl was required to head to the Church of Light and present herself to the angel who chose her.
Her sole job and joy was to carry the seed of the goddess's holy servants and give birth to the immortal angels that fought in the name of Uriel.
The process was... ahem... well, if Morgana were here and saw how the angels bred, she would definitely lose her mind.
No lust, pleasure, passion, or fun were allowed here.
No ART!.
It was all about the purity of the breed.
The maiden would simply lie on the altar, spread wide, and offer herself to the angel.
Hell, even her clothes would stay on.
As for the angel, he would simply approach the girl, take his position, and push his angelic cock into her womb.
For a second or two.
And then he would release his load inside the maiden.
The most boring sex ever.
No feelings or pleasure involved—even if they wanted to, they couldn't. A divine purity law was made to prevent this type of corruption.
The process was simply mechanical.
However...
A soft, barely audible moan escaped the girl's lips two days ago when the angel penetrated her.
No one noticed it; even she brushed it off as a random sigh. But when she returned home, she felt it again.
Badump.
The echo of something within her.
This girl was one of the nine maidens that Morgana corrupted using her blood. And for the first time since the City of Silver was built—
Badump.
Lust found its way into Heaven.