Across the desolate wasteland where not a single breath of wind stirred, a colossal obsidian fortress rose at the end of the Path of Ruin. Jagged fragments of pitch-black terrain stretched out like broken scars upon the earth.
By day, the land was shrouded in a smoky haze; by night, lightning tore through the darkness, howling as if the heavens themselves raged. Around the fortress lay the remains of shattered war chariots and rusted weapons, endlessly swept by the ceaseless winds. From the cracks in the walls seeped a crimson mist, like the land itself was still exhaling unbearable agony.
This was no mortal realm. It was the eternal battlefield of the gods—an endless cycle of war beneath the dominion of Bellatus, the God of Destruction.He had always been alone. He never allied with another, never trusted, never bargained. Even the gods themselves spoke his name with dread, knowing full well that any who crossed his path would face annihilation. To avoid him was to survive.
War never ceased. Bellatus' shadow loomed over every battlefield, and once nothing but ashes remained, he would simply turn away. He felt nothing. From the moment of his divine awakening, war and destruction had been his only purpose. He carried them out with tireless indifference, trapped in an eternity of monotonous ruin.
But lately… something had changed. Something unexplainable had stirred within him—not once, but twice.
It began with a small human child. A boy.Before he realized it, before even a thought could take shape, he had found himself standing before the fragile thing—as if drawn by an unseen force.
At first, he dismissed it. A meaningless incident. Even a god could stumble into the unexpected.
Yet there it was again—an inexplicable pull.He had followed it swiftly into the human world, into the forests, where a deer was plummeting to its death. At that very moment, a strange clay-like creature met his gaze and pleaded with him. He had not even asked why. Like an obedient spirit carrying out divine command, he had snatched the deer just before it struck the ground and placed it before the creature.
Bellatus, the god whom all feared to even address, had acted at the request of a… clay doll?Why?
Perhaps he should have thought deeper about it then.
The clay child's eyes held a light—an ethereal glow, almost celestial. But the human child beside it? There was nothing. No divine presence, no energy. Just… a human boy. And yet, those wide, round eyes… for the briefest moment, they almost seemed… endearing.
The child had given him a small stone. A trinket. Worthless. And yet he had slipped it into his pocket, his fingers often brushing against it, feeling the foreign weight of something that was not his, something he had never sought, never desired, but was told it was precious.
It was during the second summons that he realized the truth.The stone was no ordinary stone. From it radiated a power so immense that any other god might have quaked with fear. And because of it, he had been pulled—against his will—into the heart of Eseria's sacred barrier.
There, in the radiance of Eseria's light, he had felt something alien: urgency. For the first time in his existence, his body had moved not from instinct of war, but from the fear of losing… something. Something he did not yet understand.
And when he stood in the way of Eseria's blinding light, the stone burned hot against his skin—glowing as if alive.