Linegias

The Earth had been swallowed. Absorbed by the new world, an infinite ocean dotted with continents stretching as far as the eye could see. Humanity found itself thrust into this place, left to fend for itself in hostile lands teeming with creatures and civilizations from multiple origins, ripped from their own realities.

Where the Earth once stood, another world took its place. Then another. And another. The cycle had begun. Each conquered world was duplicated, absorbed in turn, fueling the inexorable expansion of this endless domain. An unknown force wove this network of universes, engulfing everything in its path.

Ages passed.

What remained of humanity? Feared remnants. Captured by the Tower of Chaos, which had risen without warning. On the continent of Winet, the first earth to have been absorbed, the landscape had transformed. Once dominated by humans, only one thing remained of their reign: the Tower, immense and menacing. It had taken the strongest.

Those who had not fallen under its yoke were now a scattered group, too insignificant to weigh in on history. To the new inhabitants of Winet, they had become rare creatures, objects of desire and fascination. Symbols of wealth and power, they were held captive, weakened, carefully studied to prevent the awakening of their potential.

And it’s in this delightful chaos that I, Mana, find myself working. Enslaved by beings even more terrifying than myself, I’m condemned to watch the world descend into carnage, to dig through past ages for stories worth telling.

Really, what a mess.

___

"Please note that the current coverage is provisional and does not belong to me."

Chronicles of the Engulfment

"So, Pietro... You've finally come out of hiding. What a tragedy that I had to burn your precious manor to lure you here.

Ah, yes. You're tied up. You can't speak. It doesn't matter, really. Your lies have tortured me enough. Tonight, it's your turn to listen.

Don't look at me with that incredulous expression. You know exactly who I am. Claude. A name you dared to erase from your memory. But I'm not surprised: these days, I'm known by other titles. Some call me the Nightmare of the Verdanthia Isles. An unworthy being, they say. The Child of Misfortune. Do any of these names ring a bell?

Still don't remember? Is your age starting to play tricks on you? Allow me to refresh your memory.

It all begins with this scar on my hand. My brother and I were returning from the market, laden with supplies for the manor. A blade, thrown with terrifying precision, nearly killed him. I instinctively reached out my hand to shield him. Why my hand, you ask? Because in your world, Pietro, the appearance of servants had to remain impeccable. A visible scar would have made me an outcast in your household. And you—did you ever wonder why I never removed my gloves?

I'm sure you're wondering what any of this has to do with you. What a stupid question. The guard corps that trained your soldiers—that was your doing, wasn't it?

We accepted work in your residence, blinded by the hope of a better future. No one warned us that this job would cost us our lives. For us, it was an unexpected opportunity. Who would have thought that you, the noble benefactor, would hold the lives under your care in such contempt?

My brother was the first to suffer. A mysterious illness struck him down while he was in the service of Lady Emma. I tried to save him, but your children and staff inflicted punishments so brutal that I passed out from the pain. Imagine, Pietro, pain so sharp it becomes a companion every night. But why imagine? You've never had to endure such a thing, have you?

And yet, despite everything, I stayed. And one day, you, Pietro, came. Not to apologize. Not to set me free. But to make a revelation. I am your son. Your bastard son, born of violence and disdain.

You convinced me, with your clever words. Stay, you said, and help me shape the future. And in return, you would take care of my family. And I believed that lie. Oh, how I believed it!

But when I returned to my hometown, everything was in ruins. Your men, at your wife's request, had poisoned the land and destroyed the souls. Those who remained looked at me with eyes full of hatred and despair.

I told them the truth: that I lived among the monsters who had devoured them. And they abandoned me. Not a glance. Not a word. They were already dead, Pietro.

So I burned. Burned everything I could. Because it was the only thing I could offer them: a pyre to purify their suffering.

And then I returned here, to Vallombre. Not for revenge, but to bring a gift to the cruel world that saw my birth. My blade. It's all I have left, all that I am.

You want to tell me that the people of Vallombre are innocent? Spare me your hypocrisy, Pietro. In this world, innocence is nothing but a fragile illusion.

When your manor collapsed in flames, I was reborn. You wanted to change the world, Pietro? All you left was a pile of ashes. And I am the ashes of your creation.

Look, dawn is here. But for you, Pietro, there will be no new day."

Chapiter 12 : The Ashes of Vallombre