Prologue: Before the First Star
Before stars learned to burn hot enough to melt reality.
Before time decided which way was forward.
Before existence even realized it was there—
The dark was absolute. Unbroken. A void so complete it swallowed the very idea of a beginning.
Then… two eyes opened.
One blazed like the first light ever conceived. Kairos Celestius, the Sky God—his wings of argent stardust unfurling, every breath drawing reality into being. Space snapped into shape, matter found form, and the first whispers of a universe trembled in his wake.
The other smoldered with shadowfire that devoured creation itself. Xandros Chthonios, the Underworld God—his power was not mere destruction, but an older truth: what is made must one day unmake itself. Every world Kairos shaped, Xandros reduced to cinder.
They didn't hate each other. Not yet.
It was inevitable. Light and darkness could not exist in the same space without warping everything between them.
"Kairos."
His voice rumbled across the void—calm, yet absolute. Another infant star had collapsed at his feet. "If you destroy one more of my works… I will seal your power inside the world I forge."
For a heartbeat, Xandros' flames flickered, almost as if he had listened. Then his lips curved into a smile colder than the void itself.
"…Very well. I'll stop."
A lie thinner than stardust.
BOOM.
A column of shadowfire pierced the void, aimed straight at Kairos' heart.
What followed was not a battle—it was the unmaking of a cosmos.
Three hundred years—meaningless to gods, but endless to the worlds that died and were reborn—of cataclysm. Planets shattered mid-formation. Nebulae crumbled to dust. Light and shadow bled together, rewriting existence with every strike.
Once, Xandros unleashed a tidal wave of black flame, enough to drown unborn constellations. Kairos spread his wings and split the inferno with a single sweep, leaving a corridor of untouched space amid the chaos.
Still, no victor emerged. Only scars. Only silence where galaxies should have been.
Kairos faltered first. Fractures etched across his divine form, glowing with the last embers of creation. He cupped his hands, summoning a sphere of sealing light—tiny, fragile, yet bright enough to make the void recoil.
He threw it.
CRACK.
The sphere struck Xandros—shuddering under his power, which fought against imprisonment like a wild beast.
Kairos understood then. One could not contain the other. Only both could end this.
"No fear," he whispered, eyes closing. Only love for all he had made. "Xandros… our power ends as one."
Light and darkness spiraled inward, twisting and collapsing until all divinity condensed into a single, silent crystal.
Two gods vanished. Their war ended. The void exhaled.
From Kairos' final spark, everything emerged: stars, galaxies, worlds… life. Across the cosmos, beings opened their eyes to fragments of his memories—whispers of creation etched into their souls, a blueprint of reality shared like a half-remembered dream.
His scattered essence crystallized into fifteen primordial elements: the first language of existence.
Water, Ice, Lightning, Wind, Earth, Nature, Rubber, Resonance, Neutrality, Time, Copy, Connection, Fire, Dark, Light.
Civilizations rose and fell over mastery of these forces. But three—Fire, Dark, Light—remained locked away, their purpose dormant, waiting for a day even mortals could not foresee.
In a forgotten corner of the new universe, the crystal drifted, silent and cold. Holding mercy and malice in perfect balance.
Inside, two gods slept without dreams.
Waiting for the seal to fracture.
Waiting for the day the universe would answer for the sin of their creation.
When that day comes… elements will tremble. Worlds will twist. Destinies will entwine. And the tale of gods and mortals will finally awaken.
—And on a distant world, beneath an unremarkable sky…
A new life stirred.
A spark slipped into the cycle of existence—quiet, unseen, carrying a remnant neither god ever meant to leave behind.
A soul destined to shake the heavens that once tore themselves apart.
The spark drifted silently, a shard of divinity cradled by the newborn world. Rivers trembled with unseen currents.
Trees—tiny and fragile—bent toward it as if bowing to a king unseen. Even the wind seemed to pause, whispering secrets older than memory. Somewhere, deep in the soil, a pulse of life stirred, sensing a presence it could not yet name.
The spark pulsed in response—curious, restless, alive. A faint, golden glow kissed the horizon. Somewhere, beneath an unremarkable sky, a heartbeat waited to awaken.
Chapter 1: Before The Storm
Far across the lands, life stirred in quiet anticipation. Even the moonlight seemed to sharpen, brushing the seas with a brighter gleam. Tides shifted almost imperceptibly, as though sensing something new in the world. Magic whispered through the grass, stirring the leaves in gentle waves.
In Moonlit Harbor, the faint hum of mana tickled the edges of perception, unnoticed by most—except for those born with fire coursing in their veins. Somewhere in a small emberwood home, a boy's heartbeat matched the rhythm of a universe just beginning to awaken.
Moonlit Harbor lay beneath a sky of liquid silver. The full moon hung heavy like a celestial pearl, casting its glow across the gentle waves, turning them into rippling strands of starlight. Lanterns floated above the boardwalk, tethered to faint mana threads woven by wind-adepts, their soft hums blending with the night air. From afar, it looked like a thousand fallen stars had decided to rest among the fishermen's boats.
Children chased emberflies along the pier, laughter tinkling like wind chimes. Couples strolled hand-in-hand, their whispered words swallowed by the rhythm of the tide. The harbor breathed serenity, a fragile peace that seemed almost… too perfect.
Inside a small emberwood home near the shore, warmth radiated from every plank. Emberwood didn't just hold heat—it lived it. Soft reds and oranges glowed beneath Valtherion Corvane's bare feet as he ran across the floor, driftwood wand clutched like a talisman.
"Faster, Val!"
The boy skidded to a halt, spun theatrically, and thrust his wand forward with all the confidence of a legendary mage.
"FIREBALL!"
Nothing happened. Not a flicker, not a spark.
Val puffed his cheeks and furrowed his brow. "It's supposed to work this time!"
His parents clapped anyway, their pride heavier than any magic.
Ardan Corvane—broad-shouldered, jawline sharp enough to cut glass—chuckled and knelt to ruffle his son's hair. His ember-red eyes, usually fierce as molten metal, softened with warmth. "Don't worry, Val. You've got the spark in your veins. It'll come."
Lira Corvane poured cinnabark tea into cracked emberstone cups, mana dancing faintly along her fingers. "Just promise me you won't burn the house down. Your father's a terrible carpenter."
Val giggled, swinging his legs from the sofa. The wand wobbled in his hand, but his grin outshone every flicker of light. Outside, the harbor thrummed with life, and everything seemed normal.
Too normal.
A Shift in the Air
The first sign was almost invisible: a whisper of wind, a tremor in the lanterns, a ripple across the water.
Lira felt it instantly. Her hand froze above her cup. Her heartbeat skipped.
"Ardan…"
He stiffened, senses sharpening like a blade. The air thickened. Sounds from the harbor dimmed, muffled by an unseen weight. The emberwood walls pulsed, their glow uneven, lantern flames bowing like subjects before a king.
Val peeked from the stairs. "What's wrong?"
Ardan's face hardened. "Go to your room."
"But—"
"Now."
Val obeyed, crouching behind the railing, eyes wide. He didn't understand the danger, but he could feel it—the suffocating pressure that pressed against the bones and the soul alike.
Ardan approached the window, pulling the curtain aside.
And froze.
Twelve figures stood at the far end of the street.
Then—something flickered before Ardan and Lira's eyes.
PING!
⟢ SYSTEM NOTIFICATION
⟢ [UNIDENTIFIED FIGURES: ×12]
Level: 57 - 59
Element (High): Water - Ice - Lightning - Wind - Earth - Nature - Rubber - Resonance - Neutrality - Time - Copy - Connection
Danger Level: EXTREME
Fear.
Not panic. Not confusion.
Fear—the kind that sank into the bones and told the soul to run.
Twelve of them. All unknown. All silent. All impossibly strong.
A drop of sweat slid down Ardan's temple.
"They've come," Lira whispered beside him, golden flames blooming faintly along her arms.
Ardan didn't answer. The twelve moved as one, steps synchronized, smooth as a blade gliding through water. The entire house shuddered. Emberwood creaked. Bones shook. Mana recoiled.
Val covered his mouth. He didn't know about High Elements, auras, or power rankings. But he understood fear. And he understood killing intent. Thick. Unforgiving. Alive.
The Knock That Ended Peace
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Soft. Polite. Mocking civility against the tide of annihilation.
Ardan flared crimson fire along his arm, molten magic writhing like a living serpent. Lira's golden flames rose, protective, luminous wings of fury.
"Don't answer it," she whispered.
"I have to."
Tap. Tap. Tap.
The door swung open. Moonlight struck the figures—three steps away, yet heavy enough to crush the room beneath its weight. Their presence pressed against Ardan like a mountain. Emberwood groaned in protest.
"Who are you people?" Ardan said, voice firm though strained. "What business do you have in us?"
Silence. Not a whisper. Not a shift.
"You're not getting past us," Lira said, flames flaring.
Still nothing.
Then one figure stepped forward, taller than the rest. Aura cold as midnight, pulsing with the unyielding weight of Time. It raised a finger, slow and deliberate—the movement stretching seconds into an eternity of dread.
It pointed at the house. At the stairs. At Val.
And then... the world shattered.