Chapter 1....
The world was called Astraeon.
A vast realm where land did not end at the horizon and the sky was not the final limit. Beneath towering mountains lived hidden kingdoms. Above the clouds drifted floating cities. And in the deep shadows of the world, forgotten species waited—patient, watching.
In one insignificant corner of this world lived a boy.
His name was Nox.
He was not a hero.
Not chosen.
Not blessed.
He had no noble blood, no divine talent, and no remarkable strength. To most people, Nox was nothing more than a burden—someone who survived by following others.
A loser.
Quiet. Frail. Always a step behind.
And yet, he had something he believed in.
His friends.
The First Life
Nox was an adventurer trainee, barely worthy of the title. His grip on a sword was weak, and his magic failed more often than it succeeded. Still, he followed his party without complaint.
Three companions.
Three people he trusted more than himself.
That day, they were sent into the Ancient Ruins of Var'Kael, a place abandoned even by time. The mission was simple: retrieve a rare core rumored to grant immense power to a single individual.
The ruins were cold and silent. Broken pillars lay scattered like bones, and at the center of the chamber floated a crystal glowing with unnatural light.
Nox stood at the back.
That was when he heard it.
"Sorry, Nox."
A sudden shove struck his back.
His body lifted off the ground.
And then—
Darkness.
He fell into the abyss below, his scream swallowed by the void. Bones shattered on impact. Blood soaked the stone. His vision blurred, but before consciousness faded, he saw their faces above the ledge.
No fear.
No regret.
Only greed.
Lying there, broken and dying, one thought echoed through his mind.
I trusted the wrong people.
And just like that, Nox's first life ended.
The Second Awakening
Cold.
Then warmth.
Light pierced through his eyelids.
Nox gasped and sat up, his body trembling. Beneath him was solid stone, not the endless abyss he remembered. Wind brushed against his face, carrying the scent of earth and iron.
He was alive.
But this was not the same place.
His memories were intact—every betrayal, every scream, every second of pain.
A voice echoed within his mind, calm and emotionless.
"Soul verified."
"Memory retention confirmed."
"Welcome to your second life, Nox."
His body was new. Not strong, not weak—unfinished.
But his resolve was absolute.
"This time," he whispered, clenching his fists,
"I won't be weak for anyone."
The Land of Stone and Shadow
Years later.
A land surrounded by three colossal mountain ranges stood isolated from the rest of Astraeon. The world called it the Gravemarch Basin—a place unreachable, unclaimed, and unwanted.
That was where Nox arrived.
This land would become his foundation.
The first to answer his call were the Dwarves—exiled craftsmen who lived beneath the mountains, forging weapons no kingdom deserved to wield. Their swords were not tools of war alone, but works of art.
Then came the Magicians—those banished for wielding forbidden magic deemed too dangerous by the world.
And after them, others followed.
Beast-folk.
Shadow Elves.
Stone-blooded Giants.
Nox did not command them.
He offered them a choice.
"This is not a place where you'll be used," he said.
"This is a place you can call home."
The Birth of a Dynasty
Over time, Gravemarch Basin transformed.
Walls rose. Forges burned day and night. Magic was woven into stone and steel. What began as a refuge became a nation.
And the world slowly learned its name.
Noxara.
A realm ruled not by bloodlines, but by loyalty.
A land where Dwarves forged the finest weapons, Magicians shaped the laws of magic, and countless races stood united.
At its center stood one man.
Once abandoned.
Once betrayed.
Once powerless.
Nox stood between the mountains, staring into the endless night sky.
"They threw me away," he said softly.
"This time… the world will remember my name."
And thus—
The story of Nox truly began.