Year 1920.
The world of Kurlas did not burn in a single night.
But when the flames finally rose, every so-called civilized soul stood near the oil drums—and pretended not to smell the gasoline.
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I
In the north, crystal mines collapsed under the roar of magitek artillery from the Vildemar Empire.
In the south, fishing villages were scorched by experimental magical weapons from the Kingdom of Aurel.
In the west, the voices of children disappeared into underground factories silenced by memory-erasing spells.
> The World War of Kurlas was never declared.
It simply began—like a sickness unnoticed, yet already spreading through the entire body.
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II
Meanwhile, a young man stepped down from the mountains.
He bore no royal banner, no guild insignia, and no magic core.
His name was Jainal.
And as the world burned itself over borders and technology,
Jainal saved a child from a scorched village.
Within the ruins of a hidden laboratory, he found a second child—
one without even a name, only a designation: Unit5.
> While kings drafted strategies, he soothed wounds.
While generals moved battalions, he walked alone into the dark.
Jainal did not yet know that his small steps were forming a crack—
a crack that, if widened, could collapse the entire stage of the world's performance.
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III
For an entire year, the land of Kurlas was carved by blood and magic.
The Empire of Vildemar unleashed their Elemental Titans—steel golems with magical hearts.
The Kingdom of Arvent sacrificed orphans to create voiceless soldiers through soul-binding runes.
TheBlack Market of Grivanna sold experimental prototypes as if they were mere collectibles.
Behind all of this, voices began to fracture.
Whispers spread of hidden research facilities,
of projects that fed on suffering to fuel spells,
and of a shadow group known as TheScarredMark—
those who risked death to spread the truth.
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IV
The unseen began to move:
The Golden-CloakedWolves hunted witnesses and traitors.
The BirdsfromtheSouth, independent bounty killers, emerged along borderlands as brutal balance.
The Great Adventurer Guilds chose silence—
but their silence masked fear and unreadiness.
> The world watched... but not all wished to see.
For to see meant to choose.
And to choose meant to stand against something greater than bullets or spells:
A lie accepted as truth.
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V
At the year's end, two children slept within the White Monastery—
the last place yet untouched by ideology.
Outside, Jainal walked alone into a world without direction.
But this time, he walked with one purpose:
To find who lit the fire.
And why everyone seemed content to let it burn.
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VI – Epilogue
The year 1920 ended not in victory.
Nor in defeat.
But with a quiet realization—
That all we see is only the surface.
And behind the curtain...
move the shadows that shape it all.