In the beginning, there was only Mana on Myriad a desolate land, barren of life, with no animals or plants, only a still and lifeless gray wasteland.
But then came the Aura, an energy different from Mana, and everything began to change. While Mana could be found everywhere, Aura started to condense in small areas and from those places, life began to emerge.
Few know what truly happened after that. It is believed that the first civilizations were born then, but we do not know whether those beings survived to this day or vanished long ago.
What we do know is this: from that moment on, the world was never the same.
Aura the life force of living beings brought not only life, but also death, and with it, time itself began to flow for the newly created creatures.
Among them, the most important were the Giants: living beings made of wood and leaves, blessed with near-immortality and immense strength. Once, their kind ruled over all creation until something happened that dethroned them.
Humans, small and insignificant compared to these towering beings of power, began using the energy of Mana and Aura to try to compete. Yet, even with these powers, they stood no chance.
That is, until the first Lord of Fire, Slapir, rose and united all humans, forging an empire in the underground realms to escape the eyes of the Giants.
When the time came, the forces of the Empire rose up against the Giants, igniting the Gigantomachy.
An epic battle, whose deeds still echo through the legends of the world, even millennia later.
In the great clash, Slapir's legions unleashed hundreds of flaming arrows, felling the immortal Giants.
The Fire Lord himself battled the strongest and oldest of them all a Giant said to have lived since the dawn of the world. Their fight left scars upon the earth that time itself could not heal. It is said that, after years of struggle, Slapir emerged from the battlefield holding the Giant's severed head in his hand.
That war shattered part of the continent, driving the few surviving Giants far away and separating them from humankind saving their species from extinction.
After the war, the humans returned to the surface to claim the place that was rightfully theirs, leaving behind their underground homes. Yet, it is said that some chose to remain in the depths, distancing themselves from other humans to continue their lives below. Over time, their bodies changed, adapting to the subterranean world they grew shorter, evolving to live more easily in their narrow, shadowed homes.
The humans on the surface went on to build a vast city called Undar, the capital of the new Fire Empire.
It was there that the Red Church first began to form an organization that worshipped Slapir not just as an emperor, but as a god, elevating him beyond mere mortality.
But just as everything seemed to be going well and the Empire reigned over the entire continent, a plague began to rise its name was Dungeon.
Large concentrations of Mana started to emerge from these strange places, making it impossible to live near them. What's more, immensely powerful beasts began to appear within, creatures overflowing with Mana but possessing very little Aura.
Billions of these monsters poured out from the dungeons, but the worst part was that Slapir and his legions vanished. No one knew where they had gone they simply disappeared.
Without its leader and attacked on all sides, the Empire collapsed. All its cities became known as dead zones, places no one dared to enter due to the overwhelming Mana pressure and the monsters that roamed there.
But life, as always, found a way. The few humans who managed to escape began to build cities far from the dungeons. New kingdoms were born, and humanity once united under a single banner was now fractured and scattered.
Amidst this chaos, a new profession emerged: Adventurers. Heroes who fought against the dungeon beasts and ventured into their mysterious depths. Thanks to them, humanity was able to reclaim some of its lost lands.
And so, as time passed, the memories of those dark days faded. New rulers now rise over those once-fallen lands.
The Western Kingdoms, isolated from the rest of the world very little ever leaves their borders.
The Red Kingdom, devoted followers of the Red Church, who believe their Lord will one day return. For this reason, they strive to reclaim the sacred lands once held by the Empire.
The Monks of Karat, a spiritual order dwelling in the eastern mountains, where they meditate on the universe, on life, and on death. For reasons unknown, they have spread across all kingdoms, becoming one of the greatest powers in existence.
And finally, there is the Kingdom of Astror a realm said to have been founded by a member of the imperial bloodline, exiled just before the cataclysm.
"That, in short, is the history of Myriad," said Ludleth, finishing his speech.
Silence.
Scáthach closed her eyes. When she spoke, her voice was lower calmer, but heavier.
"Cycles of glory and collapse. War and forgetting. Men rising as gods… only to fall back into the darkness they crawled out from."
She opened her eyes. There was no pity in them. Only knowledge. Experience. Weariness.
"Hmph… a tale of war, blood, and oblivion. Worlds change, lands shift… but humanity always stays the same."
Scáthach's face revealed an enigmatic expression perhaps thoughtful, or perhaps simply distant.
"You built your cities on graves. You forgot the bones beneath your feet. And when oblivion came in the form of Dungeons, your civilization shattered like all the ones before it. But I am not interested in your ruin."
"I want to know why you… still want to fight."
Ludleth swallowed the bite he had in his mouth and replied.
"At the moment, the world is stable. The strongest adventurers those ranked S protect the kingdoms. The number of Dungeons continues to shrink."
"But no one truly knows whether the beasts that destroyed the Empire have vanished… or merely sleep beneath the imperial cities, unseen for centuries. Still, most believe they'll awaken someday. So I don't want to be caught unprepared."
"'Stable'… is that what you call the breath before the next massacre?"
"The beasts that brought down an empire do not vanish like smoke. They sleep. And what sleeps… wakes hungry."
"You want to be ready. A noble intention. But the will to survive is not enough. Men train to protect. I train to destroy."
"When the first city falls… when women, men, sons and fathers die… when the walls can no longer hold back what rises from the Dungeons…"
"…who will you be, Ludleth?
Just another name on the list of the fallen?
Or a blade too tempered to break?"
"I will teach you how to kill gods if you can endure it. But know this:
Being unprepared is a mistake.
But being weak… is a choice."
Her gaze shifted to the window.
"It seems we don't have much time left. So next time we meet, summon me somewhere wide built for training."
"And wear something appropriate next time… not a bathrobe."
With that, she vanished dispersing into tiny particles of light.
As the summoning ended, Ludleth let out a breath of relief, grateful that the ritual had gone so well.
Then her final words echoed in his mind and he looked down at himself.
"I can't believe I'm still wearing a bathrobe," he muttered, running a hand through his hair.
His face flushed red with embarrassment as he sighed again.
Thankfully, no one had seen that.
Or he might've died of shame.
"I've spent enough time in this room. Let's go for a walk," he said, trying to compose himself.
"But first… I should probably change."