In Blizzard Online, there were five main races.
The Human race, known as the Sapin.
The Elf race, known as the Elfhie.
The Dwarf race, known as the Dwagon.
The Demi-human race, known as the Sempin.
And lastly, the Demon race, known as the Talcad.
Worlds apart, each race stayed rooted in its own lands, shaped by custom and unseen forces. Nowhere stood still - cities bloomed then vanished, empires stretched only to shrink again - yet equilibrium held firm through ages. Contact happened: deals struck, disputes flared, talks unfolded.
More than a millennia ago, everything had tilted apart.
Suddenly, the Talcads struck without notice.
Falling from shadowed skies, the demons struck the Sapins without warning. Silence marked their arrival - no speeches, no treaties, nothing left behind but ash and silence. Without pause they moved through villages, torch in one hand, blade in another. Skin like midnight, eyes alight with raw power, they shattered walls with roaring energy. Homes crumbled under claw and flame. Crops turned black beneath scorched earth. Life ended wherever they stepped.
Men.
Women.
Children.
Even infants. Right away, the Talcads moved without mercy. They gave no quarter. Whoever met their gaze fell dead.
Earth turned red beneath them while villages disappeared overnight. Near wiped out, the Sapins saw their people fade fast.
When destruction loomed, survival drove the Sapins to act. Their choice was not made lightly but by necessity.
A shout went out into the quiet air.
Out of nowhere, the Dwagons struck early, boots thudding against earth as iron-clad fighters advanced without hesitation. Following close behind appeared the Copy Mage - a figure so uncommon that people still whisper his name like a secret.
Ash Vulkun.
Fueled by his presence, the Sapins found their strength. What the Copy Mage could do made no sense to anyone - copying spells aimed at him and hurling them back. Fighting alongside Dwagons and Sempins, the Sapins met the Talcads head-on, battle after brutal battle tearing deep wounds across the earth.
Blood soaked the ground as fights tore through the land. Whole peaks crumbled into broken stone under constant strikes. Waterways darkened, choked by soot and gore from endless clashes. Still, inch by grim inch, the Talcads gave way.
One moment they were there. Then, like smoke, gone.
Long after whispers faded, folks assumed demons had vanished forever.
These days, Talcads have vanished from Blizzard. Not even broken walls remain. Parents told stories about them to scare disobedient children.
Behave, or the Talcad will come for you.
The dark-skinned demon will tear your limbs apart and eat them.
Now just whispers in old tales. Stories meant to scare restless kids quiet. Faded into something barely remembered.
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Above the cold stones, Ethan balanced on splintered wood, eyes locked beneath him. There it lay - the shape drawn in dust and care, its edges unbroken. Light clung to the grooves, soft but steady, like breath after a scream fades.
At first Ethan stood still, unsure of his next move.
Just some minutes ago, Ethan stood in his own world. The walls familiar. Everything as it always was. Yet suddenly, none of that remained. A small house made of logs surrounded him. This place carried shapes too close to something else. Something like Blizzard Online.
Except he wasn't human.
He wasn't a powerful beast.
He was a rabbit.
A weak little rabbit.
Cute and Fluffy.
A weight pressed down inside him. It wasn't sudden - more like something settling after a long fall.
Back there, where Ethan's fingers knew every key, every shortcut. His chair waited, molded to him like it always had. The world inside the machine made sense in ways the real one didn't. Strength came easy when life became pixels and rules. Respect followed rank, not questions. Fear meant power, nothing more.
But the person who had summoned him was gone.
The cabin was empty.
"I have to go out," Ethan thought. "I have to find a way back. Or find someone who can send me back."
A soft thud followed as he stepped onto the floor. The drop felt heavier than expected; his limbs didn't quite match. Balance wobbled and ears flicking as he adjusted to his new stance.
He moved toward the door.
It was just at that moment the issue became clear to him.
Up high, past his reach, hung the handle.
Up he rose, back legs holding steady while those small arms reached high - still fell short.
…Fuck.
The word came out as a squeak, but the frustration behind it was real.
Fumbling through the tight room, Ethan poked at cracks behind loose boards and a gap near the wall caught his eye - thin, covered in dust, but opening outward.
It was open.
A glow moved inside, bringing with it a chill and a strange smell - like trees, frost, soil. The air shifted around these things without warning.
Ethan stared at it, inspecting it carefully.
"If I hop through the window, I can get outside," he thought.
His eyes moved up next.
"…But how the hell do I get up there?"
A height he couldn't reach. Glancing sideways now, searching for any object that might help. A chair made of old wood stood nearby. Then his eyes passed over the table - solid, but too wide. Up above, a lantern dangled, still and out of reach.
That was it.
"There's no other way…"
A deep breath pushed out from his lungs, shoulders dropping. The air left him slow, ribs sinking back down.
This time, it was the chair that had to move. Slow work, one pull after another across the floor.
As big as the chair looked next to him, his paws shook even just brushing against it.
He shoved with his shoulder, leaning into the wooden leg of the chair. The movement started slow, then picked up just a bit. Weight shifted unevenly as he kept at it. One small push after another moved it forward.
With a groan, the chair began to move. Painful inches marked its path.
Slow going. Each step counted. Fire ran through his arms and legs as gasped, pulling air in chunks. The ground gave way beneath him, sending him down hard against his ribs.
Yet he kept going.
Minutes passed.
Breath came fast, fogging the air. Shaking ran through his legs without pause. Still, at last, the wooden seat rested below the window.
Breathing hard, Ethan dropped to the ground.
"…Perfect."
Up again, after just a short pause. Weight dragged at him, though small in size. Yet into a squat he sank, then sprang - landing on the seat.
Foot caught mid-air, balance wobbling. Still, he held firm before tipping too far.
Nearby, the window sat within reach. Just a step away it remained.
Breathing hard, Ethan took his place with care. Just a single leap left.
One chance.
Bent at the knees, he lowered himself slowly - and leapt.