The apocalypse at the end of the First Era had buried the first generation of gods, along with the worlds, living beings, and civilizations they had created.
The once-lush rules had been pruned of their branches, leaving only the most essential, primordial parts, which became a sapling growing in the depths of the void.
The last surviving god of the first generation awakened beneath the half-decayed World Tree and, guided by the rules, began creating the world anew.
One World Fruit after another was born at His fingertips. After falling to the ground and sprouting, they spread into various planes. Living beings and new rules grew upon them, enriching the branches of the World Tree and becoming part of the rules.
Humans, animals, gods, and ghosts were no different to the Ancestral God. All were "children" created by His own hand, links in the operation of the rules.
He had no personality of His own and never experienced subjective emotions such as anger. He merely silently placed all things where they belonged, steadily smoothed away every defiance, again and again...
Until He was tripped by the gnarled roots of the World Tree and bound to the earth by vines, while the gods feasted on His flesh and authority. A single tear fell from the corner of His eye for the first time. Then, He calmly accepted His slumber, just as He now calmly accepted His resurrection.
The priest bowed before the idol and asked his god, "Lord, may I tell the believers of Your descent?"
God said, "Gods and humans are but living beings. Once people discover that gods can also grow weak and be killed, there will no longer be faith or reverence—only greed and ambition."
The priest asked, "Then may I tell the clergy of Your descent?"
God