Zairen turned the brittle, yellowed page of the ancient tome, its edges crumbling like ash.
In the beginning, there was only darkness.
From the endless void, a world was born.
A planet adrift among the stars…
Bathed by two suns, shadowed by nineteen moons.
Its name… was Elarion.
Zairen's breath caught.
"Elarion…"
The words painted a world once whole—a vast continent alive with mana. Humans, elves, dwarves, fae, and beasts lived in harmony. Magic was life's pulse. Gods walked the earth, their steps shaping fate.
But peace is fragile.
Greed.
Pride.
Malice.
The sins of mortals birthed a terror—a god forged in cosmic filth.
The Void King.
He came in whispers, not armies. When his black gates tore open, nightmares flooded Elarion—demons, monsters, horrors without names. Skies burned. Oceans boiled. Empires crumbled to dust.
Five guardian gods rose to defend the world. The races united. A thousand-year war raged.
But even gods fall.
The Void King's blade—Nexis—devoured divine light. One by one, the gods perished.
Hope died.
Then came the All-God—the first, the eldest, the flame of all creation.
He sacrificed himself, imprisoning the Void King within his immortal soul and casting both into the abyss.
But Nexis escaped, falling like a comet, striking Elarion's heart.
The continent shattered into six.
The world was broken.
Zairen turned the page, hands trembling.
The Six Continents of Elarion:
• Soltheim – The Holy Continent, ruled by Evelith, Goddess of Light and Mercy. A land of sacred fire and unyielding peace.
• Kaelar – The Human Continent, forged by Malrik, the War God. Blood and steel shape its kingdoms.
• Thyrden – The Elven Continent, evergreen, eternal, blessed by Elwyna, Goddess of Nature and Peace.
• Varnok – The Wild Continent, savage, untamed, ruled by Ragar, the lion-headed beast god.
• Umbrith – The Demon Continent, cursed, isolated. Nothing leaves. Nothing enters.
• ??? – The Lost Continent. Unseen. Ungoverned. Unnamed.
"One god vanished…" Zairen whispered.
The Forgotten God.
No name.
No temple.
No memory.
He walks among mortals… but none remember.
"Why does that feel… familiar?"
He turned the next page.
Kaelar – The Human Continent.
The largest.
The most fractured.
Five kingdoms divide its lands:
• Zanbar – Western deserts, ruled by sultans, rich in obsidian and silver.
• Norei – Eastern lands of mystics, scholars, and forbidden technology.
• Velhara – Lush southern forests, noble bloodlines, proud cities.
• Dravion – Iron north of mountains, blades, and cold-blooded warriors.
• Cenadel – Central capital of humanity, home to High King Alaric Draymoor and the Grand Academy of Arcanum.
Zairen's eyes locked on one word.
Velhara.
His homeland.
He read on.
Velhara holds five cities, each ruled by a Duke. Beneath them—Viscounts. Beneath them—Barons. Above all—Everdusk, the capital, seat of King Tharos Valeheart, Warden of the South.
Zairen closed his eyes.
"Our house… Baron of Kaelridge. Loyal to Viscount Elvaron Dreven. Three villages. Two mines. A forgotten name in a crumbling ledger."
His jaw tightened.
"So many layers… so many chains."
He stared at the ceiling, fists clenching.
"I need to awaken my mana circle."
"I need power."
His thoughts drifted to Cenadel. To the Grand Academy.
To the place where his name died once before.
"That place… wasn't built for people like me."
A cold breeze slipped through a cracked window. Night had fallen, heavy and silent.
"History's a damn time thief," Zairen muttered.
His nose twitched.
Food.
The assistant healer had left a tray—soup, bread, roasted roots.
Pain stabbed his joints as he reached, but he didn't stop.
The food was bland.
To a starving soul, it was divine.
He chewed slowly, each bite fueling something deeper than hunger.
Vengeance.
Truth.
Power.