Three centuries ago, the world teetered on the edge of oblivion.
It was not simply war—it was a reckoning. The gods, those lofty beings who once shaped existence with divine authority, no longer stood as mere spectators. They did not guide. They did not protect. Instead, they wove chaos itself into creation, birthing countless races to weaken humankind. Elves, Vampires, Demons, Devils, Dragons—each a testament to their cold cruelty, each a blade turned against mortals.
Yet, not all obeyed their intended fate.
Some defied their creators. They stood alongside humanity, choosing loyalty over divine decree. And in the heart of the conflict, two gods—beings who should have been indifferent chose to break ranks, to betray their kind. The war did not end in victory, only in temporary salvation. By sheer sacrifice, the rebellious gods sealed their brethren within their divine realm. But even the most impenetrable prison is nothing against the grinding erosion of time.
The war became legend. The legend became history. And history began to stir.
The first sign was the dragon—its corpse a grotesque puzzle scattered across the Forest of Esforia. The wounds upon its body told a story that no living tongue could utter. It had been hunted, pursued with a kind of ruthless precision reserved for vengeance alone.
Then came the flames.
A portion of Esforia Nation was reduced to cinders. No cause. No warning. Fire engulfed the land as if willed into existence by something unseen. No ordinary disaster could leave behind such perfect devastation. The area was sealed, and the world tried to move forward.
It did not.
The westernmost reaches of the Forest of Shadow bore witness to something… unnatural. Beasts vanished. Hunters disappeared. Only vague accounts remained—whispers of an unknown entity, something that stalked the land with patient, insatiable hunger. Fear gripped humanity and the allied races alike. No one entered those cursed grounds without a Slayer at their side. The Slayers Guild sealed the region, ensuring none disturbed its silence.
But fate does not pause.
Deep within the Shadow Nation, an entire village fell.
Not to a beast. Not to an army.
To a girl.
A firm knock echoed through the dimly lit chamber, followed by the hurried entrance of a Slayer. His breathing was uneven, urgency pressing against his every movement.
"Commander Atlas," he said, his voice taut with restrained alarm. "The village near the eastern side of the Shadow Forest has been attacked. The reports indicate... the assailant was a girl."
The man before him did not react immediately. Standing by the window, Atlas—young, yet weighted with experience—tilted his glass slightly, letting the crimson liquid swirl in the candlelight. His grayish hair framed sharp light-brown eyes, unreadable as they lingered on the distant horizon beyond the glass.
A moment passed. Then, without shifting his gaze, he spoke. "Tell Navia, Blazej, and Marco to meet me here."
The Slayer hesitated, waiting for further instruction—but none came. Atlas had turned, his attention now locked onto him with quiet intensity. Understanding the dismissal, the Slayer gave a slight nod. "Yes, Commander. I'll inform them immediately."
He pivoted to leave, but before he could reach the door—
"Gather a team," Atlas added, lowering himself into his chair. "Head to the village. Tend to the wounded. We'll follow behind—you are to ensure this matter does not spiral out of control."
The Slayer bowed slightly, then vanished into the corridor beyond.
It wasn't long before the others arrived.
Navia stepped in first, her blonde hair catching the flickering glow of the lanterns. Her light-purple eyes burned with urgency. Behind her followed Blazej—his green hair tousled in restless energy—and Marco, composed yet watchful.
"Atlas," Navia snapped, barely pausing for breath. "Why are we still here? The villagers are dying while we sit in this room!"
Atlas remained still. Unbothered. The only movement was the parchment he retrieved from the desk, its crisp edges smoothing beneath his fingers.
"We're moving. Blazej, Marco—you will go to the opposite side of the village."
Blazej frowned, his expression darkening. "Why? That area wasn't attacked. It's Esforia territory, not ours. They have their Slayers—why interfere?"
Atlas dipped his quill into ink, scratching out words with practiced precision before stamping the letter shut. His answer was quiet, but absolute.
"You will deliver this to Commander Ella of the Knight Slayers of Esforia."
Blazej hesitated before accepting the parchment, exchanging glances with Marco. "What's in the message?" Marco questioned, studying the sealed letter.
"You'll know when the time is right. Now move."
Atlas pushed back from his desk, slipping his gloves on with methodical ease. "Navia, we're going to the village."
"Finally," she muttered, following him toward the exit.
At the Guild's transportation area, they stood before an intricate mechanism—an iron pole encased in glass, its structure appearing primitive compared to fully developed technological devices. And yet, there was something about it. A lingering energy. A pulse that whispered of speed beyond human capability.
Atlas placed a hand against the pole. Instantly, the upper section scanned him, flickering with light—then, in the space of a breath, his body blurred and vanished.
Navia followed, then Blazej and Marco.
The war had ended centuries ago.
But something within the shadows was stirring once more.
The Village Near the Shadow Forest
Smoke choked the sky, turning the evening into an abyss of black and crimson.
Houses were consumed by fire, their wooden frames collapsing in splintered ruin. Weapons—spears, swords, jagged infernal constructs forged of pure flame—pierced through the bodies of the fallen. The air reeked of scorched flesh, the cries of the dying merging into one collective wail.
And amid the ruin, a boy knelt.
"I'm sorry… Sara." His voice trembled, strangled by grief. "I couldn't protect you. I'm powerless… sob Please forgive me… I failed you and Mother."
Seventeen, yet burdened with despair deeper than any lifetime could bear, Eryx cradled the girl in his arms—her small frame lifeless against his own. Blood soaked into the earth, creeping between his fingers, staining his trembling hands.
The girl stirred, barely. Her breaths were shallow, her voice a fractured whisper.
"I'm sorry… cough Eryx…" A weak smile, brittle as autumn leaves. "I protected you… So you could live… cough, Brother… I won't let you die while I'm still here…"
Her words faded. Her black eyes—once filled with warmth—dimmed, the light vanishing like embers caught in the wind.
Eryx froze.
Then, the world shattered.
A scream tore through his throat, raw, unrestrained. Crimson light erupted from his body, coiling around him like a storm barely contained. His hair darkened, black cascading over his shoulders, edged with streaks of deep blue. His face was swallowed by an unnatural mask, its jagged form pulsing with the same furious aura emanating from him.
A spear materialized in his grip, humming with power.
And his gaze lifted.
The girl responsible—the one who had torn his world apart—hovered above the ruined village. Her white hair glowed with an eerie orange hue, her eyes burning like embers. A sneer curled at her lips.
"You mortals dare to defy us?" Her voice was laced with mockery, dripping in divine arrogance. "I'll ensure you learn your lesson. Filthy humans."
With a flick of her wrist, she raised her sword—flames licking hungrily at its edges.
Then, she rose higher into the sky.
"Sun Rebellion: Rain of Flames. End him."
Fire poured from the heavens.
The inferno descended, consuming the land in a blazing storm. Yet Eryx did not fall—he moved, weaving between the torrents of destruction, his spear carving a path through the flames as he met her attack head-on.
Until—
A pulse of crystalline mana slammed into him.
The impact sent him crashing into the earth.
Iris—the so-called god—turned, shifting her gaze toward the intruder. A slow smile crept onto her lips.
"You mortals never cease to amuse me," she murmured. "Always turning against your kind."
From the opposite side of the battlefield, Navia scoffed.
"That's what makes us human," she shot back. "Not like you gods—who slaughter the innocent for sport."
Atlas stepped forward, his posture unwavering. "Navia, secure the boy. I'll handle this."
Navia wasted no time, conjuring a barrier around Eryx, shielding him from further harm.
Atlas, meanwhile, faced Iris directly. His voice was calm, measured. "Who are you? Why attack this village?"
Iris tilted her head, amused. "You still don't recognize me? I am Iris, Goddess of Flames. And as for why I attacked…" A dark smile slashed across her lips. "Because I will kill every last human with my own hands. It starts here. Then, I will find the key to open the gods' sealed realm. And I will free them."
Atlas exhaled quietly, gaze darkening.
"As I expected," he murmured to himself. "One of them has already escaped. Even if she fails to find the key, others will break free, one by one. It's only a matter of time."
Then, from behind him—
A voice.
A scream.
Eryx stood.
Crimson aura spiraled around him, uncontrolled, seething. His gaze, once mortal, now carried something deeper—something beyond human comprehension.
His words were heavy. A decree.
"Iris—you have no authority to slaughter my mother's creation."
A pause.
"I will end you. And all your gods."
Far beyond the battlefield, beyond the realm of mortals and the divine struggle unfolding below, another presence observed.
A woman with hair as white as frost, her crimson eyes gleaming with unspoken knowledge.
A smile played at her lips.
"So, he wields my power… Heh. I must admit, I'm proud."
She exhaled softly, gaze drifting toward the burning world beneath her.
"Still… I wonder how Malenia will handle this. She was the one who created this planet, after all. And she's here—her presence lingers, somewhere among them."
Her fingers traced the edge of the space before her, and as if answering her command, a portal unraveled before her.
"Either way, this is no longer my concern. I should return to the Central Space Hall."
She stepped forward, vanishing into the void.
The portal sealed shut.
—The first ember had been lit. The flames of fate would follow.—