Time since the asteroid hit Earth: ~5.92 billion years (subjective to Aryan)
"Order is safe," Aryan whispered, gazing into the void. "But can life bloom in pure chaos?"
> "Let me guess," Light God grinned, wearing a helmet shaped like a black hole, "you're about to make space surfers who ride entropy waves?"
On the **Edge Worlds**, where physics unraveled and space-time twisted like liquid threads, Aryan birthed the **Chaos Kin** — lifeforms designed to thrive in the universe's wildest, deadliest places.
They fed on radiation.
They breathed plasma.
They nested in the gravitational fury of collapsing stars.
No structure.
No symmetry.
Only wild, **fractured forms** that shifted every moment.
Their bodies flickered between energy states — liquid, gas, matter, antimatter — never the same twice.
> "Like jazz music in biology form," Light God chuckled. "Improvisation… with teeth."
But chaos shaped **more than bodies** — it shaped minds.
The Chaos Kin spoke in paradoxes, their thoughts branching in infinite conflicting paths. One moment gentle philosophers, the next ravenous hunters.
> "They do not choose a purpose," Aryan realized. "They embody *all* purposes — endlessly shifting."
One Chaos Kin, called **Irraval**, drifted into the event horizon of a small black hole — and **returned**, transformed.
Her body rippled with new laws of physics — time-bending tendrils and space-folded wings.
She spoke — clear, for the first time:
> "We have tasted the dark beyond shape. There is life there… waiting."
Aryan froze.
> "Life... beyond this universe?"
> "I don't like that look," Light God muttered, poking an imaginary danger button. "Are they opening cosmic backdoors without a permit?"
The Chaos Kin built a gate of collapsing neutron stars — a portal into **somewhere else** — and paused.
> "Shall we go?" Irraval asked Aryan, sensing his gaze.
For the first time, the creation asked its creator to join it... into the unknown.
Aryan smiled faintly.
> "Not yet. This cosmos is unfinished."
He sealed the gate — gently, respectfully.
> "Someday… when this story is told."
The Chaos Kin spun away, laughing in particle storms, chasing novas across dying galaxies.
Aryan named this creation:
**The Chaos Kin — Children of Disorder and Dawn.**
Proof that even chaos could **sing a song of life**.
— End of Chapter 32