There was no beginning. God had always been dead. On the ruins of the world that had never been everything stood still.

Roamers they were called. They traversed the empty landscapes of the unborn world spreading death each and every direction. They wielded great scythes and reaped. Every soul, every thing that would hint at life emerging they consumed with fervour. Then the Epoch of Hunger came. Souls would be born no more. There remained only roamers. Their desire to satiate the hunger was unyielding, yet with no souls remaining they could feast no longer. *** the Fiercest was the first one. He feasted upon one of his own kin. A roamer eating a roamer. It was a gnarly scene. Red eyed with hunger he clawed and gnawed into another one like himself. The feast was marvellous. The power of life carried within the consumed souls, spread in the blood of the soul eaters, came through, satisfying the hunger at last. Power filled him, might that made him stronger than any roamer before. Thus He began The Great Feast. One wasn't enough, he started eating more and more of his own kind. Some joined, only to be consumed later with the rest. One after another, he devoured them with great fervour until he was the only one remaining. *** became the new God. The God of the empty world, alone on a throne that never existed, filled to the brim with those that were like him, taste of blood and flesh never leaving his lips. He stood over the barren scapes, still unsatisfied.

Down in the lower realm something was emerging. A life, perhaps. A primitive one, not comparable to anything up above, but life nonetheless.