Chapter 1: A hero was found
Two million years ago, the Demon King Renox Keal, the ruler of wrath and one of the most powerful beings to ever exist, met his demise. With his death, his immense power scattered among his descendants, giving rise to demons who inherited otherworldly magic never seen before. Their newfound abilities made them stronger than ever, posing a threat to the delicate balance of the universe.
To counter the demons' growing strength, the Gods bestowed their divine magic upon select high-ranking beings among their creations. Among them, humans stood out as the most intelligent, ambitious, and—above all—greedy. With the Gods' blessings, humanity flourished, quickly surpassing all other races in magical prowess and strategic dominance. They conquered lands, waged wars, and soon became the most powerful race in existence, disrupting the balance of the universe itself.
Enraged by humanity's arrogance and disregard for harmony, the Gods smote them, delivering a divine punishment to restore equilibrium. As retribution, the Gods forbade humans from leaving their realm ever again. To further limit their power and prevent them from uniting against divine authority, the Gods divided the human world into four major continents:
The Eastern Continent
The Western Continent
The Southern Continent
The Northern Continent
Balance was finally restored—at least for the time being.
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Our story begins deep within a vast forest on the northern edge of the Eastern Continent. The night was dark and stormy, rain pouring relentlessly from the heavens. Amidst the howling wind and rustling leaves, the unmistakable cries of a baby echoed through the trees.
A lone traveler, Author Gidion, trudged through the muddy terrain, eager to return home after a long day of work. As he navigated through the dense woodland, the desperate wails of the infant caught his attention. Frowning, he followed the sound until he stumbled upon a small basket, partially covered with a damp cloth. His brows furrowed in confusion. Who would abandon a baby in the middle of a storm?
Carefully, he knelt down and pulled back the cloth, revealing a tiny, fragile child wrapped in tattered blankets. The baby's skin was cold, his tiny chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. Author scanned his surroundings, but there was no one in sight. Someone had left this child here—alone and defenseless.
With a heavy sigh, he lifted the basket and cradled the infant in his arms before resuming his journey home.
Hours later, Author finally arrived at his humble cottage, nestled within the heart of the forest. He wasted no time rushing inside, setting the basket down by the fireplace to warm the child. As he adjusted the blankets, his eyes fell upon an unfamiliar sight—a folded note and a ruby amulet tucked inside the basket.
Curious, he picked up the note and unfolded it. The handwriting was elegant yet strange, written in a language he had never seen before. His mind raced with questions. Could this be a language from the Northern Continent? Or something even older?
Despite his inability to decipher the message, his eyes landed on the one part he could understand:
NAME: Lucas
That was all. No mention of the child's origin, no clue about his parents—just a name.
Yet, in that moment, Author made a decision. He had always dreamed of having a child, and now, fate had placed one in his arms. The baby had nowhere to go, no family to claim him.
He smiled gently, brushing a stray strand of hair from the child's forehead. "Welcome to the family, little one. You're now Lucas Gidion."
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Far away, in another realm, beyond the reach of ordinary mortals, a grand temple stood shrouded in darkness. Hooded figures gathered in silence, their robes flowing like shadows against the stone floor. The air was thick with an ominous presence, the flickering candlelight barely illuminating their masked faces.
At the front of the temple, a lone figure stood upon a raised platform, addressing the assembly with a voice laced with conviction and power.
"Our time will soon arrive… We will soon reclaim our former glory."
A deafening roar erupted from the crowd. They cheered, they chanted, their voices merging into a single, eerie harmony. The ground trembled beneath them as their collective energy surged, and outside, the heavens wept—rain pouring heavier than before, as if mourning what was yet to come.