"The world is cold and lonely."
These are not the words of any famous philosopher, or words uttered by a politician at an excited rally ready to unify humanity. This is not the preamble for a holy book read by a divine charlatan, or by the crusaders as they muddled through flesh and blood of dense enemies.
It's a consensus that humanity has reached over their short lives after countless trials and errors.
Humans are not the peak of the world. They can't live as long as the Elves. Fight as well as the Orcs. Build as good as the Dwarves.
There are no famous magicians among them like the Vampires. No immortality like the Dead. No enchantments like the Demons.
As a matter of fact, there is no magic at all.
Humans are weak in birth, and insignificant in death.
They might be living numb lives as blood slaves in the basement of a vampire.
They might serve as snacks to the magnificent giants.
They will surely serve as fodder for the forests of the Elves. As embers for the magnificent forge of the Dwarves. As nurseries for the countless demon eggs that spew out of the river styx when lives end.
They are the most insignificant part of this world. The primates bred by the planet, not arriving here on glorious starships, or being birthed by the whims of a god.
But the planet is the most generous and most unfeeling of all. It gives them everything they desire, but the same can be said for all other beings who ever stop foot on it.
It gives them life, gives them wisdom, gives them comfort as they lay dead in its embrace.
But it doesn't discriminate against any creature and gives the same to everyone.
So when you have already lost on the starting line of life, any amount of equality is just another laugh in the face of all efforts.
"Pray to gods," some shouted, "They will surely come to the aid of their lambs."
Which gods?
The bloodthirsty gods of the Orcs? The same beings who only take pleasure in the deep violence and massacre in their pastures?
The elegant gods of the Elves? The beings who took one look at our primitive ancestors and deemed them only worthy of feeding the forests?
The forging gods of the Dwarves? The beings only interested in being presented the most powerful and most sturdy of creations? The ones who sneer at the thought of teaching humans how to hold their tools?
Or would you prefer to pick the Goblins? Or the Giants? Or the Vampires? The Dead? The Hive? The Abyss? The Nine Hells?
"So many choices," mused a man with a desperate smile "All bent on digesting, or worse, enslaving my people."
"Why not worship our own gods?" Asked a child of his mother, "We should also have gods, right?"
"Which god, my dear?" The mother replied gently, holding the child tighter. "Which god?"
The child looked at her confused, never noticing the tears sliding down her mother's face.
Which god, indeed. As a race birthed of the planet, their god should've been the planet itself.
But the Giant Gods claimed that right before humanity ever could.
How about their ancestors, the mighty warriors who opened up their civilization by fighting like beasts as the world laughed at their incompetence?
The Orcs took that right from them too. They made humanity unable to gather their beliefs onto any single being in their history.
How about the all nurturing Nature? "Never." Roared a man. "Nature isn't the same anymore."
The Abyss corrupted the world, and even the great Elven Druids could be corrupted into sludge upon trying to receive any feedback from it.
"We only have ourselves." Sighed a woman, looking down a cliff. "Because we can do nothing but survive together."
We live in groups. Hoping the fear of numbers might drive away the individual beasts roaming the forests.
We live in families, hoping we would have some support when we return from the wilds, bruised and battered.
We try to make more friends and fewer enemies, in the hopes that the knife that comes for our neck isn't from behind.
But that's all we can do. Survive.
"Hmm..." A voice echoed in my mind. "Interesting ants."
What else could I expect. Disappointment is par for the course.
Humanity is nothing but ants trying to survive on a frying pan, hoping no outside force would spill another drop of oil in the little comfort we have created.
But we are desperate. There is no blessing from a god. No help from a stranger. Nothing to rely on. No goal to reach, except survival.
"But interest is what motivates me." Echoed the voice again. "No, what motivates us."
I looked up in excitement at the light coming from the crown of trees.
That deep black would be considered eerie by any other creature, but not to us.
"So puny mortals, we allow you to borrow from us."
That light was the most holy, the most divine, the most beautiful thing we had ever seen.
"But remember, everything comes at a price."
We were entranced by that light. There was no outside influence, just hope. Hope to survive. Hope to save more compatriots from the maws of the world.
"We are the %©¢|•÷~\, surviving since the dawn of creation, cursed to survive the end of all."
I knew something was being said, even if I could not understand it. Something was being branded deep into my soul, but I did not resist.
What more could I do? We had no other paths, as we had walked them all.
This is the only opportunity I could bring to my people. To stand up. To hold our heads with dignity. To not be slaves, not be food, not be 'lesser'
"So mortal... What will you give up... For Hope?"