We strolled through the winding roads, trading stories of school, dreams, and little fragments of our lives. Before long, the labyrinth of alleys gave way to a quaint yellow house. Sunlight streamed across its doorway, illuminating motes of dust that twirled in the air like tiny dancers.
The door swung open before we could knock. A woman appeared — chest-length black hair tied in a low side ponytail, her lavender dress covered by a crisp white apron. A large skimmer spoon in hand, her face glistened with both sweat and simmering worry.
"Saurabh! You're late. What took you so long?" she scolded, her tone sharp but threaded with motherly concern.
"Sorry, Mom! I was just… in the park, working on my manga. I lost track of time. But look—" his eyes lit up as he turned toward us. "I brought friends!"
The anger melted from her face like ice under the sun. A warm smile bloomed in its place.
"Oh my, how lovely! Saurabh, who are these sweet young guests?"
"Mom, this is Andy Tennyson and his sister, Alia. They're my new friends! Andy's even been helping me with my manga. He's got the coolest ideas!"
"Good day, Mrs. Tendulkar." I bowed lightly. Alia mimicked me, her pigtails bouncing.
"Oh, how polite! Hello, children. Please, come in," she said, her smile brightening like a flower in full bloom.
Her modest home welcomed us more warmly than any gilded palace. Every corner gleamed with care, the simple furniture carrying the quiet dignity of her hard work.
"This is our little nest," she said proudly. "It may not be as grand, but I hope you'll feel comfortable here. Why don't you go with Saurabh to his room? I'll bring you something to eat."
"Yes, Mom!" Saurabh replied.
"Just a sec," I interjected smoothly. "I should call my mom and tell her I'll be late. Otherwise she'll be furious. Could I borrow your landline, Mrs. Tendulkar?"
Her smile deepened. "Of course, dear. And no need for formality—just call me Aunt Sangeeta." She hummed softly as she returned to the kitchen.
I lifted the receiver, mimed dialling, and pitched my voice just right, knowing her ears were tuned to every word.
"Hi Mom? Yeah, I'm at Saurabh's house. He's a new friend. We're working on a manga together… Uh-huh, Alia's here too. We'll be back later. Love you too, Mom."
I hung up, smirking inwardly at my performance. Minutes later, I slipped into Saurabh's room. His walls were plastered with anime posters, his shelves brimming with manga volumes — a shrine to his passion. Alia was already marvelling at his collection.
"Wow! Look at all these mangas, big brother!" she squealed.
Before I could respond, Aunt Sangeeta entered carrying a tray of orange juice and steaming samosas. The sweet tang of citrus mingled with the savoury spice of fried pastry, filling the room. She set the tray down and sat on the bed, her eyes resting on me a moment longer than felt comfortable. I shifted uneasily under her gaze, hiding it behind a sip of juice.
"Uh… Auntie? Is everything alright? You keep looking at me like I've got horns growing out of my head."
She blinked, then smiled gently, her voice lowering to a softer register.
"Forgive me, dear. It's just… strange. The moment I saw you, I felt as though I'd known you for years. Almost like… you were meant to be part of this family."
I nearly choked on my juice.
"Huh? That's… weird," Saurabh froze mid-bite, his samosa dangling from his hand.
Alia tilted her head, eyes twinkling with mischief. "See, big brother? Even humans can tell when you're hiding something."
"Haha, maybe we were connected in a past life." Forcing a nervous laugh, I scratched my head.
My heart thudded against my ribs, a warning drum. But to my relief, Aunt Sangeeta joined in my laughter, waving it off.
"Perhaps! Well, I'll leave you kids to it. Call me if you need anything."
She slipped out of the room, but the air she left behind was heavy with unspoken meaning.
That look… sharper than Father's trident. A mother's intuition is dangerous. If I'm not careful, she'll see right through me.
Alia studied me silently, her head tilted, as though she too sensed the hidden current beneath Aunt Sangeeta's words.
**********
The afternoon sun poured through the window, scattering golden light across the carpet where the three of us sat. The aroma of samosas lingered in the air, warm and comforting, but the room itself buzzed with a different kind of hunger—anticipation.
"Alright! Story time!" Saurabh declared, pulling out a fresh notebook and pen, his eyes burning with excitement. He leaned forward, peppering me with questions in a single breath:
"So Andy, what's your story called? Who's the main character? Is it a magical quest, a medieval fantasy, a cyborg action, or a zombie horror? Come on, tell me already!"
Alia clapped her hands, bouncing on the carpet. "Yes, big brother, tell us! Pretty please!"
I raised my hand with a chuckle. "Whoa, whoa, slow down, Saurabh! If I try answering all your questions now, we'll be here till midnight."
He laughed sheepishly, but his eyes never left mine. Alia tugged at my sleeve again, her wide-eyed expression impossible to resist.
"Alright," I said at last, lifting my glass of orange juice for a slow sip before setting it aside. "Settle in, you two. This isn't just any story—it's a tale carried by the winds of destiny."
The room quieted, the air thick with expectation. Dust motes drifted lazily in the shafts of sunlight, like tiny stars waiting for the cosmos to take shape.
"Once upon a time," I began, my voice soft yet carrying weight, "in a land where fate and magic intertwined, there lived a boy. A peasant. Ordinary. Weak. And yet… his dreams reached higher than the heavens. He wished to become a magus—the strongest of them all. But destiny…" My tone darkened, "destiny had carved a path far greater than anything he could imagine."
Saurabh's pen stilled, forgotten in his hand. Alia's small hands clutched the hem of her dress. Both leaned closer, caught in the pull of the words.
"For when shadows gathered and an age of ruin threatened to consume the world, this boy would rise. Through trials, through pain, through fire and thunder—he would carve his name into history. Not just as a magus… but as the saviour of realms." I let the silence stretch before I whispered:
"This… is the tale of Shaun Thunderhawk. The story called Tales of the World's Strongest Magus."
A hush fell over the room, broken a heartbeat later by Saurabh's excited shout. "Whoa! That's incredible, Andy! That title—so cool!" His eyes gleamed with awe.
Alia clapped furiously, beaming. "Big brother's stories are always magical!"
I leaned back with a knowing smile, my eyes glinting with mischief. "Thanks, my friends. But trust me… what you've just heard is only the beginning. So… shall we dive in?"
And with that, the first thread of destiny began to weave itself in their hearts.
**********
Three millennia ago, the heavens trembled with dread. Lucius, the God of Hell—a name forever whispered in fear and loathing—rose in rebellion. His heart was consumed by an insatiable hunger for power, his ambition nothing less than absolute dominion. He yearned to overthrow the gods, seize their thrones, and reign supreme.
From the abyss, he summoned his dark legion—corrupted deities, monstrous beasts, fallen angels, and creatures of the underworld born from shadow. Their march shook the pillars of heaven. Golden streets, once radiant, ran red with blood as the divine realm quivered under his might.
In desperation, the gods turned to their last hope: Lord Eternus, the God of Heaven. Eternus answered. From the highest throne he rose, summoning his divine host—angels with wings of pure light, archangels bearing celestial blades, sacred beasts roaring with heavenly fury. With their radiance gathered, the greatest war of an age began—the first Ragnarok.
The clash was cataclysmic. Seven heavens quaked as Eternus' legions clashed with Lucius' horde. But the war could not be contained above; it ripped the veil of reality and spilled into the mortal realm. Cities crumbled, families were torn apart, and mortals found themselves swept into the crossfire of gods.
And yet, humanity did not yield. With nothing but courage and mortal steel, they rose in defiance. The gods, moved by their bravery, forged an alliance with mankind.
For twenty days and nights the war raged, the skies ablaze with fire and the earth drowned in blood. At last, under Eternus' command, the tide turned. Lucius and his commanders were struck down and bound within a relic of unfathomable power—the Prison Stone, a vessel forged to seal even the mightiest of celestials.
When the dust settled, silence fell. The heavens endured, but at a terrible cost. More than half of existence was lost.
And so, to prevent such devastation from ever rising again, the Prison Stone was hidden in the farthest reaches of the universe, beyond the grasp of gods or mortals.
**********
With Lucius' defeat, a fragile peace descended upon Earth and Heaven alike. The Elemental Gods, moved by humanity's valour—mortals who stared into the abyss without flinching—bestowed upon them a divine gift.
They shared secret knowledge, a shard of their own essence, awakening within humans the power to command the elements themselves: fire and water, earth and wind… and the elusive aether, the breath of creation.
Thus, the world was forever changed. Imagine a realm where mortals danced with flames at their fingertips, conjured storms with a whisper, and sculpted the very earth beneath their feet. For a time, the gods themselves walked among humanity, guiding, teaching, protecting. It was an age draped in light—a golden chapter of prosperity and wonder. But golden ages never last.
As swiftly as they had come, the Elemental Gods vanished, dissolving into mystery. No farewell, no trace. Whispers rose to fill the silence. Some claimed the gods had returned to Heaven; others that they journeyed across the endless void, seeking survivors of worlds long fallen. Yet none could answer, and the silence only deepened the uncertainty in mortal hearts.
Still, from that silence rose guardians. Those who had inherited the divine spark, who had mastered the elemental arts, stepped forth. They became the Magus of Earth, protectors and torchbearers of the legacy left behind. Generation after generation, the flame of knowledge was passed down, ensuring the memory of the gods did not fade.
Civilization rose anew, like a phoenix from ash, stronger and wiser than before. And yet—beneath triumph and rebirth—the unanswered questions lingered like shadows at the edge of the light.
Where had the Elemental Gods gone? Had they forsaken mortals forever? Or… were they simply waiting, biding their return?
**********
Three centuries slipped into shadow… three long centuries since the voices of the Elemental Gods were swallowed by the abyss of silence. Their memory lingered like fading starlight—bright, but ever distant. Mortals clung to the illusion that peace had returned.
But was it truly peace… or merely the calm before another storm? History is a cruel mirror, and it reveals a truth older than time itself: humanity is its own greatest adversary. Without the gaze of the gods, unity fractured. What once bound mankind together unravelled into mistrust, ambition, and the gnawing hunger for dominion.
Empires rose like towers of glass, only to shatter upon themselves. The magi—once saviours clad in glory—became weapons, pawns in the hands of kings. Their spells, forged to protect, were now wielded to annihilate.
And so, the world bled through the Three Great Magus Wars. Wars that scorched the earth, drowned cities in flame, and turned brothers into executioners. The sky itself seemed to weep as blood and fire mingled, blotting out the light of hope.
Yet, humanity endures—even in ruin. From smouldering ashes, new cities rose, their walls higher, their sorceries sharper, as though mankind sought to outlast even its own folly. But suspicion hardened into walls, and walls into boundaries. Thus the world fractured, divided into Ten Great Regions, each clutching its power, each waiting for the spark that would ignite it anew.
And yet… in the darkest hour, even silence whispers. A prophecy untold lingers in the marrow of the world. Hope, fragile yet unyielding, flickers like an ember refusing the wind. For in one such region, a hero would rise. A boy, bound not by the sins of the past, but by a destiny to mend humanity's shattered fragments… to challenge the tides of chaos… and perhaps, to restore true peace.
Who is this brave soul? What trials await him upon his perilous path?
Brace yourselves, for this is where the tale truly begins— a tale etched in flame and shadow, in laughter and tears, in bonds of love unbroken… and in the eternal question: can peace truly be restored?
**********