[h1][b][u][center]Legio[/center][/u][/b][/h1]
The dream of mourning ending, and Legio awoke once more, bare of all metal and cloth, for now. Yet again, he'd failed during the previous cycle; yet again, humanity was rent asunder and scattered to nothingness by the Roil, their glory dashed and cut short upon the rocks of existence. But he could not fret over the matter. Every second wasted was a second less for the human race to try and secure their existence once more.

And to start, they had to exist. Indeed, through him did they exist; each cycle he survived was another cycle for humanity to try, and try again, for persistence, nay resilience was their boon, resilience enough to let them progress, and to seek new paths toward true immortality. A mere moment was spent to acknowledge his own golden, glowing core once again, the eagle-headed Globus Aquila returned to him, before the orb sank into his heart - only for the point of impact to burst forth with more of that glowing golden substance, encasing the master of mankind and spilling forth into reality about him, shortly before reality itself folded about him as if he'd never been there to begin with.

And within the pocket of existence that encompassed Legio's domain, the Divine City of Emanule rose once more. Each paving stone, each individual brick in every building that came forth from Legio's soul, shone with the same power as his core, the God-Emperor's will made manifest within the city. And with each of the thousands of buildings that came about, so too did a pair of intelligent apes - coated in hair but sparsely across most of their bodies, with features distinguishing male from female. The first humans of this cycle were birthed, and all within the realm knew inherently of Legio's divine providence, for he had made them aware of this and all else they needed to make their first steps toward immortality once again.

The only shame was that these progenitor individuals would perish eventually. Such was the curse of human biology, that their cells aged and died like all other mortal beings eventually did. At least their souls would be kept safe within Anacahe's realm... for a time. A very long time, and yet an imperceptibly short time, too.

At last, as his palace and the final building in his realm was completed, Legio emerged from his domain into the presence of his fellow deities, now clad in immense, shining golden armour from the neck down. The pinnacle of the human form, ready to present himself to the world, and further the might of the human race once again.

...hrm. Something was different. Missing, perhaps. Who had presented themselves so far, then? Perillian, the Forgemistress, always a pleasure to see, and he'd need to address her regarding the reforging of his Colossus at some point; Anacahe, the Don of Death, who he hoped he wouldn't lose too many to this cycle; Zetsibo, that skeletal bastard, who Legio wished with all his might would just fade spontaneously, even though he never did, and wouldn't now until this cycle's end; Ualla, one of the eldest deities alongside Sandrimor, the progenitor of mortal life without whom Legio himself may never have come to be; and Nyrae, the goddess of love, clad as ever in her fabrics to cloak a beauty that anyone could admit to, whether or not they could appreciate it.

And... a newcomer. A mass of flesh, with tendrils snaking away from its frame like so many crude arms. What, pray tell, did this newcomer offer to this new reality? He wasn't sure, though he arrived back into the fold in time to witness Ualla forging himself a new set of arms, more limbs to craft life with. Ualla never did appreciate it when Legio simply formed humans immediately, but he also didn't seem to understand how crucial it was that they be given the greatest possible chance to make themselves eternal as the gods were. For now, Ualla merely addressed the new deity: "Now, seeing as you're new, I think I know what's going on. You magic, time, or both?"

Magic? Time? But those were Sandrimor's domains... unless... no, surely not.

'Sandrimor has faded, then?' Legio asked, not quite sure how to feel. The lord of magic and time had been a steadfast aspect of reality, of the divine hierarchy, since the very first cycle, as long as Ualla had existed too. Yet Ualla persisted still, whilst Sandrimor was... gone. And frankly, he had been the de facto leader for so long for good reason - everybody had had stock in his continuing leadership. Legio himself offered his core to Sandrimor each time, in part because he was a stable ruler, and in part because his leadership meant humanity was not prey to an entity like Zetsibo on the throne. And now who would prevent that?

'...it is a shame for such a long-standing figure to pass,' Legio eventually uttered, clasping his hands together in subtle mourning. 'Whoever takes his place has a long legacy to live up to.' There were only so many gods Legio could see being well-suited for the throne, only so many who might offer humanity the same chance or better than Sandrimor himself had - and far too many who would tear humanity down and make their ascension impossible this cycle. This, suffice to say, was not an issue Legio could afford to be wishy-washy about.