The Children are ancient energy vampires who feed not on blood, but on the very life force of others, making them both feared and revered. Led by the enigmatic Lord Asagawa, their society is defined by ritual, control, and a strict hierarchy that balances their immense power with disciplined restraint. Through practices like the Breathing True Life ritual, they absorb energy in ways that go beyond survival, enhancing their psychic abilities, physical prowess, and mental clarity. On the battlefield, however, their feeding turns primal, tapping into raw energy to fuel their powers amidst chaos. Yet, this life force comes with a price: psychic echoes from their prey linger in their minds, reinforcing the need for emotional discipline. Periods of hibernation also reveal the paradox of their strength and vulnerability, as even the most powerful of The Children occasionally rely on their kin for protection. Balancing between the celestial and the monstrous, The Children embody a complex duality, wielding a power that shapes them into both apex predators and guardians of ancient energy.
In the vast and enigmatic Epic Universe, few beings inspire the same blend of fear and reverence as The Children. These ageless energy vampires are not driven by the hunger for blood, as traditional vampires are; instead, they feed on the very life force of their prey. Existing at the crossroads of the divine and the monstrous, The Children are apex predators with the ability to manipulate energy with unparalleled skill. This mastery extends beyond survival; it shapes every facet of their complex culture, which combines ritual, hierarchy, and an unyielding need for control.
Led by the powerful and enigmatic Lord Asagawa, The Children are bound by strict codes and practices that dictate not only how they feed but how they exist within their own society and the broader universe. Their culture is marked by rituals that blend beauty with brutality, and their power is held in check by a deep-seated understanding of the need for restraint. The Children live by a precarious balance, walking the thin line between transcendent energy wielders and primal forces of devastation.
One of the most sacred and defining practices of The Children is the Breathing True Life ritual, a process that goes far beyond a mere feeding. This ceremonial act allows them to consume life energy in a way that resonates on an emotional, metaphysical, and even scientific level. It is a deeply personal exchange, intended to do more than sustain; it strengthens, aligns, and elevates both the predator and the prey.
The ritual begins with the careful selection of a recipient, chosen based on their value—whether it be beauty, talent, or compatibility of energy. A seven-day preparation ensues, during which the recipient undergoes purification to optimize the energy transfer. Mystical runes are etched into their skin, creating a conduit for the life force to flow into The Child. The ritual itself is conducted on consecrated ground, with invocations and chants designed to channel the power of the Mother of The Original Seven. For The Children, Breathing True Life is not merely sustenance but a pathway to greater power and unity with the energies that bind the universe together.
Feeding for The Children is a complex experience that varies from refined ceremonies to visceral, survival-driven acts on the battlefield. Each form of feeding is not only a source of power but a reflection of their status as energy vampires at the pinnacle of their predatory hierarchy.
Through their feeding practices, The Children gain significant enhancements to their physical, mental, and psychic abilities. Yet, these gains come with risks, reinforcing the importance of discipline and control within their society.
Despite these advantages, feeding has its side effects. The Children often experience psychic echoes—residual emotions or memories from their prey, which linger in their minds. These echoes can provide insights but can also haunt or influence them, a consequence that reinforces their need for emotional discipline.
Among The Children, control is more than just a cultural value—it is an absolute necessity. Power dynamics are everything, with each Child acutely aware of the need to regulate their abilities and actions. This need for restraint is underscored by the strict codes imposed by Lord Asagawa, who leads with an iron resolve. Their society is structured around hierarchy and ritual, with each member’s status intricately tied to their abilities, control, and adherence to the cultural expectations of The Children.
This emphasis on control also extends to how they engage with the outside world. The Children face ongoing tension with other factions, especially the Style Assassins, who pose a constant threat. Internally, their society is rife with tension, as each member must balance loyalty to the group with the primal desire for power and independence. This delicate balance makes The Children’s society one of cautious alliances and controlled rivalry, as every Child understands the precariousness of their position.
To sustain their strength and manage the powerful energies they consume, some members of The Children periodically enter states of hibernation. This temporary withdrawal is a necessary practice, allowing their bodies and minds to recalibrate and assimilate the immense energies they wield. However, hibernation leaves them vulnerable, requiring protective measures from their kin. These hibernations deepen the sense of duty and interdependence among The Children, as even the most powerful among them will, at times, rely on others for survival.
Hibernation underscores the cultural tension between power and vulnerability, a paradox that shapes their society and the bonds they form within it. In a world that demands constant strength, these periods of vulnerability are both a risk and a reminder of the fragility of even the strongest beings.
The Children are a study in contrasts: celestial yet monstrous, ritualistic yet primal, controlled yet haunted by echoes of their prey. Their power is immense, but it is bound by the very culture that wields it, creating a society that must constantly temper its strength with discipline. The rituals, rules, and hierarchies they uphold are not mere tradition; they are the necessary architecture that allows these energy vampires to exist in a universe that both fears and reveres them.
To outsiders, The Children may appear cold, detached, or incomprehensible, but beneath the surface, theirs is a life of constant tension—a delicate dance between predator and guardian, ceremony and chaos. They are not just beings of energy and shadow; they are custodians of an ancient power that demands both reverence and restraint, shaping every aspect of who they are and how they survive.
Breathing True Life is a rare ritual where The Children grant a chosen being the power to draw life force, awakening them to a heightened existence. Conducted only on Sacred Grounds, this ritual aligns the recipient’s energy with The Child’s, culminating in a profound transfer of power. Yet, this gift comes with risks, requiring the recipient to manage psychic echoes and energy surges. For The Children, Breathing True Life is not just a bestowal of power but an act of reverence and restraint, embodying their balance between cosmic grace and primal hunger.
In the shadowed culture of The Children, Breathing True Life stands as a sacred, transformative ritual that is entirely distinct from their usual feeding. This isn’t about consuming life energy; rather, it’s a rare and revered act that allows The Children to grant another being the profound ability to “Breathe True Life”—an awakening of unparalleled depth. Those chosen for this ritual become capable of drawing life force from others, embodying the powerful essence of The Children themselves. To be bestowed this gift is to cross a threshold between ordinary existence and the heightened, almost celestial awareness that defines The Children.
Unlike standard feeding, which can and does take place in any setting, Breathing True Life unfolds only in the hallowed spaces of Sacred Grounds. These locations, steeped in ancient energies, are revered by The Children and hold the kind of cosmic power necessary for such a monumental transformation. Here, in the depths of these sanctuaries, the ritual takes place, binding predator and chosen in a moment of shared energy that resonates far beyond the physical.
The ritual to awaken another’s ability to Breathe True Life follows three meticulously orchestrated stages: Selection, Preparation, and The Ceremony. Every step reflects The Children’s profound understanding of energy, precision, and control, marking the initiation of the chosen being into a world of unparalleled power.
Breathing True Life is not merely a bestowal of power; it is a rite of profound cultural significance, a mark of The Children’s complex philosophy and values. To grant another being the ability to Breathe True Life is to forge a rare connection between the cosmic and the mortal, a reflection of The Children’s belief that power must be granted with respect, ritual, and restraint. This isn’t a gift they bestow lightly. The decision to share their most sacred ability embodies their balance of strength and discipline, a reminder that even the mightiest powers are bound by codes of reverence.
The ritual is an affirmation of their control—each step measured, every motion intentional. For The Children, power without restraint is a dangerous force, and only those who truly understand the weight of Breathing True Life are granted the right to share it. The ritual is both a testament to their mastery of energy and a way to uphold the ancient principles that guide them.
The ability to Breathe True Life is as dangerous as it is potent. Those who receive this gift must navigate a delicate balance of power, as any misstep can lead to destructive consequences. The Children teach that with such energy comes responsibility, and they instill the knowledge necessary to handle this gift without succumbing to its dangers.
Breathing True Life, then, is not merely a gift but a profound responsibility. It demands control, respect, and a continual dedication to balance. The recipient’s journey does not end with the ritual—it begins there, as they learn to wield their power under the watchful guidance of The Children.
For The Children, the ritual of Breathing True Life embodies their most sacred values, representing beauty and danger, discipline and transcendence. It is a powerful reminder that they are more than hunters; they are custodians of cosmic forces, bound by a philosophy that elevates control and reverence as virtues above all else. The ritual allows them to pass on their legacy selectively, ensuring that those who receive it are worthy of the heightened awareness and power it bestows.
To outsiders, Breathing True Life might seem chilling or enigmatic, but to The Children, it is a rite of honor, a means of sharing their heritage in a way that transcends mere feeding. It captures the essence of who they are: powerful beings who balance on the edge of cosmic grace and primal hunger, masters of energy who protect and revere their powers even as they wield them. In the end, Breathing True Life is the ultimate act of creation within a society where energy is everything, a passage into a world where life itself is the most precious and potent force of all.
For The Children, feeding is an artful ritual blending power and restraint, as they draw life-force—not blood—from their prey. Known as energy vampires, they begin with a “Tasting,” a subtle pull that samples the essence of potential victims, creating a psychic link that allows The Child to influence and revisit them. Each response—fear, curiosity, attraction, or resistance—adds depth, yet only prey open to the pull are selected, as forcing the connection is strictly forbidden.
The act of feeding is euphoric but requires strict self-discipline. Lord Asagawa enforces a code that mandates restraint; indulging excessively in the ecstasy of feeding leads to disgrace and eventual exile. For The Children, feeding is more than survival—it is a measure of self-mastery, a test of their ability to wield power elegantly and responsibly. This ritual reflects their essence: beings who walk the fine line between predator and guardian, honing their strength through balance and elevated control.
In the shadowed hierarchy of The Children, feeding is a ritual that binds power, control, and ecstasy into one experience. These energy vampires, known for drawing the life-force of their prey, do not require the bite or blood of traditional vampires. Instead, they siphon the raw vibrational energy—the core essence—of each victim, leaving them drained in spirit rather than body. This process is an intoxicating one, a sensory rush that overwhelms even The Children with its intensity. But their society is built on mastery of self and strength of restraint. To indulge in the pleasure of feeding without control is to lose one’s honor, dignity, and standing within their ranks.
For The Children, feeding is as much a test of discipline as it is a ritual of survival. Those who revel too deeply in the ecstasy of their power are seen as having failed, betraying the elegance and refinement that define their kind. Lord Asagawa, their formidable leader, enforces this code with unwavering intensity. The act of feeding, while deeply satisfying, is to be approached with a measured hand and a focused mind—each experience a balancing act between primal pleasure and elevated self-control.
For The Children, feeding begins with an act called Tasting—a subtle, precise sampling of energy that lets them assess a potential victim without consuming them. With just a gaze, a Child can engage this “pull,” a barely perceptible tug at the core of the person’s being, creating a sensation so unique that it’s felt nowhere else in existence. Tasting is not a physical pull but an energetic one, a whisper of the power to come, and it serves two main purposes:
For The Children, feeding brings an unmatched sense of euphoria, a surge of vitality that courses through them, heightening their senses and sharpening their perception. It is a moment of pure power, where predator and prey are bound in a silent exchange of energy that leaves both changed. But this ecstasy is as dangerous as it is intoxicating. Without strict discipline, a Child can become addicted to the act, reveling too deeply in the pleasure of feeding and losing themselves to it.
Lord Asagawa’s code demands restraint. Feeding is to sustain, not to indulge. Those who overstep, becoming addicted to the rush of power, are marked as weak and lacking in self-mastery. They are watched closely, pitied, and eventually cast out if they cannot regain control. To give in to the thrill of feeding without regard for the consequences is to abandon the very principles that make The Children who they are—beings of refined power, elegance, and discipline. For those who are addicted to the ecstasy of feeding, life within the society becomes one of disgrace, their status reduced to that of a mindless consumer, no better than the vampires who feed on blood.
Among those who adhere to the code, feeding becomes an art. They select prey with care, reveling in the nuances of each reaction and balancing the thrill of energy with the responsibility of control. Each act of feeding is approached with purpose, savoring the experience without losing themselves in it. They see feeding as a test of their own strength, a demonstration of their ability to wield immense power without becoming enslaved to it.
The Children’s society reveres this balance, holding it as the highest standard of strength and grace. To feed without losing oneself is to affirm one’s place within the ranks of The Children, beings of cosmic awareness and elevated self-mastery. Feeding is not merely an act of consumption, but a reminder of their unique nature—a delicate balance between predator and guardian of their own energy, a union of hunger and restraint.
Ultimately, feeding for The Children is both a ritual and a reflection of their duality. They are powerful, yet bound by codes of conduct; they are predators, yet they walk the line of self-control with an unwavering focus. In the ecstasy of feeding, they find both their power and their purpose, and in mastering it, they set themselves apart as true beings of energy, life-force, and indomitable will.
The Children and the Magisterium maintain a tense, fragile peace, each with vastly different goals and methods. While The Children manipulate the Normal world quietly from the shadows, valuing secrecy and control, the Magisterium claims authority over all supernatural beings, focused on enforcing order and maintaining stability. This division has allowed a wary tolerance to persist, with neither side willing to provoke a costly conflict—yet.
However, tensions simmer at the lower ranks, where operatives frequently clash, fueling distrust and resentment. Both factions understand that this truce will hold only as long as their ambitions remain separate. If either achieves its ultimate goal, a clash of powers will be inevitable, setting the stage for a battle that could reshape the entire Epic Universe.
In the shadowed hierarchy of The Children, feeding is a ritual that binds power, control, and ecstasy into one experience. These energy vampires, known for drawing the life-force of their prey, do not require the bite or blood of traditional vampires. Instead, they siphon the raw vibrational energy—the core essence—of each victim, leaving them drained in spirit rather than body. This process is an intoxicating one, a sensory rush that overwhelms even The Children with its intensity. But their society is built on mastery of self and strength of restraint. To indulge in the pleasure of feeding without control is to lose one’s honor, dignity, and standing within their ranks.
For The Children, feeding is as much a test of discipline as it is a ritual of survival. Those who revel too deeply in the ecstasy of their power are seen as having failed, betraying the elegance and refinement that define their kind. Lord Asagawa, their formidable leader, enforces this code with unwavering intensity. The act of feeding, while deeply satisfying, is to be approached with a measured hand and a focused mind—each experience a balancing act between primal pleasure and elevated self-control.
For The Children, feeding begins with an act called Tasting—a subtle, precise sampling of energy that lets them assess a potential victim without consuming them. With just a gaze, a Child can engage this “pull,” a barely perceptible tug at the core of the person’s being, creating a sensation so unique that it’s felt nowhere else in existence. Tasting is not a physical pull but an energetic one, a whisper of the power to come, and it serves two main purposes:
For The Children, feeding brings an unmatched sense of euphoria, a surge of vitality that courses through them, heightening their senses and sharpening their perception. It is a moment of pure power, where predator and prey are bound in a silent exchange of energy that leaves both changed. But this ecstasy is as dangerous as it is intoxicating. Without strict discipline, a Child can become addicted to the act, reveling too deeply in the pleasure of feeding and losing themselves to it.
Lord Asagawa’s code demands restraint. Feeding is to sustain, not to indulge. Those who overstep, becoming addicted to the rush of power, are marked as weak and lacking in self-mastery. They are watched closely, pitied, and eventually cast out if they cannot regain control. To give in to the thrill of feeding without regard for the consequences is to abandon the very principles that make The Children who they are—beings of refined power, elegance, and discipline. For those who are addicted to the ecstasy of feeding, life within the society becomes one of disgrace, their status reduced to that of a mindless consumer, no better than the vampires who feed on blood.
Among those who adhere to the code, feeding becomes an art. They select prey with care, reveling in the nuances of each reaction and balancing the thrill of energy with the responsibility of control. Each act of feeding is approached with purpose, savoring the experience without losing themselves in it. They see feeding as a test of their own strength, a demonstration of their ability to wield immense power without becoming enslaved to it.
The Children’s society reveres this balance, holding it as the highest standard of strength and grace. To feed without losing oneself is to affirm one’s place within the ranks of The Children, beings of cosmic awareness and elevated self-mastery. Feeding is not merely an act of consumption, but a reminder of their unique nature—a delicate balance between predator and guardian of their own energy, a union of hunger and restraint.
Ultimately, feeding for The Children is both a ritual and a reflection of their duality. They are powerful, yet bound by codes of conduct; they are predators, yet they walk the line of self-control with an unwavering focus. In the ecstasy of feeding, they find both their power and their purpose, and in mastering it, they set themselves apart as true beings of energy, life-force, and indomitable will.
On the battlefield, The Children abandon their usual elegance and restraint, unleashing a brutal, primal side of their nature. Known for feeding on life-force with discipline and artistry, they transform in combat, ripping the very essence from their enemies with raw ferocity. In this setting, feeding becomes a survival tool and a weapon, fueling their strength and weakening foes in a ruthless, unrestrained act.
Battlefield feeding is a stark contrast to their refined rituals, exposing the dark, chaotic side of The Children. Normally beings of beauty and control, they reveal a savage hunger that turns them into relentless predators, mirroring the “Taste of No Taste” ferocity they usually condemn. Here, grace and brutality coexist, as The Children embrace the duality of their nature: graceful in peace, and merciless in war.
The relationship between The Children and The Magisterium is one of tentative tolerance, where mutual restraint defines a world divided by two powerful forces with divergent ambitions. Though these two factions might seem natural rivals—each wielding unique forms of power and influence—they currently uphold an unspoken agreement to stay out of each other’s way. The Children, focused on quietly influencing and controlling the world of “Normals” from behind a shroud of secrecy, have little interest in governing the supernatural community at large. By contrast, The Magisterium sees itself as the rightful authority over all supernatural and superpowered beings, enforcing order and pursuing goals that extend well beyond the reach of The Children.
For now, both factions pursue separate objectives, and each respects the other’s capabilities enough to avoid direct conflict. But those within each group know that this fragile balance can only hold for so long. At higher levels, neither side openly threatens the other. Their focus is on entirely different prizes, and they direct their attentions elsewhere. However, beneath the surface, tensions simmer among lower-ranking members, whose paths frequently cross in the pursuit of their goals, leading to skirmishes, conflicts, and sporadic bloodshed.
The Children have a sophisticated, well-organized society, governed by their own code and led by Lord Asagawa. Their attention is squarely on controlling the mortal, “Normal” world from the shadows. This focus keeps them outside of The Magisterium’s interest, as The Children’s actions rarely disrupt the supernatural order that The Magisterium seeks to maintain. They avoid unnecessary attention, preferring to remain obscure even as they shape world events and human behavior according to their own design.
The Magisterium, by contrast, regards itself as the ruling body of all superpowered and supernatural beings, tasked with enforcing laws, preventing chaos, and maintaining a semblance of order across a turbulent world. Their mission centers around keeping the supernatural realm discreet and under control. Though they acknowledge The Children’s influence, the Magi do not see them as a direct threat—at least, not yet. The Children’s pursuits are considered peripheral, if somewhat mysterious, in the grand scheme of The Magisterium’s rule.
This division of interests has allowed a tenuous peace to persist between the two groups. Each side respects the fact that a major clash would require resources, energy, and risks that neither is ready to expend for now. Both factions remain focused on their own goals, choosing a live-and-let-live approach that has kept the peace, even if only superficially.
While the leaders of The Children and The Magisterium avert their gaze from one another, this uneasy peace doesn’t extend to the lower ranks. Operatives, soldiers, and scouts from both sides frequently clash in the field, and these encounters are often anything but civil.
At the ground level, resentment and suspicion simmer. The Children’s operatives view the Magi as a restrictive force, a group intent on controlling all who are different, unwilling to let power exist outside their own dominion. Meanwhile, The Magisterium’s enforcers view The Children with distrust, wary of their clandestine methods and their profound influence over the Normal world, a domain that the Magi often find themselves needing to protect or obscure.
Skirmishes between The Children and the Magi rarely escalate into major conflicts, as higher-ranking leaders are quick to quash anything that might lead to all-out war. Yet, these encounters are intense, often ending in bloodshed, with each side testing the other’s limits. Though these battles are neither strategic nor orchestrated by the upper ranks, they stoke animosity and bolster the brewing hostilities simmering just beneath the surface.
Both The Children and The Magisterium understand that this current truce can only last as long as neither side achieves its ultimate goal. If The Children were to gain complete influence over the world of Normals, their reach would inevitably encroach upon the Magi’s authority, posing a threat to The Magisterium’s vision of controlled order. Conversely, if The Magisterium were to solidify its rule over the supernatural and superpowered beings, The Children would likely be forced to submit or face suppression.
Each side recognizes that achieving its objective would require eliminating the threat posed by the other, meaning that this calm is merely a prelude to an unavoidable conflict. The higher ranks are acutely aware of this truth, even if they keep it close to the chest. This awareness creates an atmosphere of restrained preparation, with each side quietly fortifying its power and resources in anticipation of the day when neutrality will no longer be an option.
In the meantime, both factions maintain their careful separation, each watching the other with wary respect. They understand that this peace is fragile, held together by the understanding that neither can afford to make the first move without undermining its own goals. For now, their ambitions remain separate. But should one side make a decisive stride toward their vision, the other will be forced to respond, and the full force of both groups will finally collide.
In the complex web of alliances, rivalries, and power struggles within the Epic Universe, the relationship between The Children and The Magisterium is unique. Both sides respect the other’s strengths, and both recognize the dangers of premature conflict. But beneath this tenuous peace lies a brewing tension, a knowledge that their current paths can only run parallel for so long.
As of now, The Children and The Magisterium embody two halves of a divided world: one seeks to shape the Normal realm from the shadows, while the other seeks to dominate the supernatural through governance. The calm between them is a delicate balance, built on pragmatism rather than trust, with the understanding that one day, the world will no longer be big enough for both powers to coexist.
In this waiting game, each side moves forward with an awareness that their goals bring them closer to an inevitable crossroads. When that day arrives, the long-standing respect and restraint between The Children and The Magisterium will shatter, and the Epic Universe will witness a clash of cosmic proportions—a war that will redefine the balance of power and reshape the destiny of all beings within it.