"Phase One: The World Beneath the Twin Shadows" :
There are worlds ruled by kings.
Worlds ruled by gods.
And then there is **Avarenth** — a world ruled by reflections.
Above its skies float two fractured moons, orbiting one another like predators trapped in an eternal duel. Beneath them stretch continents carved not by water, but by memory. Mountains whisper forgotten names. Oceans pulse with stolen emotions. And in every living being — in every breath, every thought — there exists another presence.
The **Qareen**.
Not demons. Not spirits. Not mere shadows.
They are the second heartbeat.
In Avarenth, humans are relics. The Qareen reign supreme. Countless species — Ashborn, Riftwalkers, Veilbinders, Bone-Scribes, Soul-Flayers — all born from reflections of something that once existed. Each Qareen is bound to a concept: fear, hunger, ambition, despair, ecstasy.
And above them all stands one name spoken in reverent silence.
**Embalios.**
The First Reflection.
The Absolute Qareen.
The Sovereign of Echoes.
It is said Embalios was not born. He was noticed.
When the universe blinked for the first time, he blinked back.
His palace floats above the capital city of **Nythra Veyl**, suspended upside-down in the sky like a blade poised to fall. Rivers flow upward into it. Lightning bends around it. Time slows in its presence.
The Qareen kneel without being commanded.
Because Embalios does not rule through fear.
He rules through inevitability.
And beneath his dominion lies a prophecy — one etched not in stone, but in absence.
*A Qareen without a reflection will one day fracture the throne.*
No one knows what that means.
No one dares ask.
But somewhere, far from Nythra Veyl's inverted towers, in a forgotten district where the air tastes of rust and burnt incense…
A boy walks with no shadow.
"Phase Two: The Babylonian Black Magic Academy" :
The academy rises from black marble carved from the spine of a dead titan.
**The Babylonian Black Magic Academy.**
A cathedral of forbidden knowledge. A furnace for warriors. A breeding ground for future generals of Embalios.
Inside Classroom 7-C, seventy students sit in a circle etched with a living sigil — a rotating rune that feeds on magical output. The stronger the Qareen, the brighter the sigil glows.
At the center stands Instructor Vael Mordryn, his body half-ethereal, half-bone.
"Today," Vael's voice echoes like glass grinding against steel, "you will manifest your Dominant Reflection."
One by one, students step forward.
A girl summons a crimson inferno shaped like a serpent, scales forged from wrath.
A tall boy manifests a gravity well that crushes the air into a visible sphere.
Another splits into five mirrored copies, each wielding different weapons.
The sigil blazes violently.
Then—
Silence.
"Next," Vael calls.
A boy with dark, unremarkable hair steps forward.
His uniform is plain. His gaze distant.
His name is **Rael Veyrith**.
Whispers ripple.
"That's him."
"The defect."
"The Shadowless."
"He shouldn't even be here."
Rael steps into the circle.
The sigil waits.
Nothing happens.
Seconds stretch.
A faint flicker.
Then… darkness.
The sigil dims.
A murmur erupts.
Vael's hollow eyes narrow. "Manifest."
Rael closes his eyes.
Inside him, something stirs.
Not fire. Not power. Not pressure.
A feeling.
Like standing at the edge of something vast… and being watched back.
But no energy manifests.
The sigil remains dim.
Laughter breaks out.
"Pathetic."
"He's not even a proper Qareen."
"Maybe he's human."
Vael raises a skeletal hand. Silence falls.
"Power," the instructor says coldly, "is measurable. You have none."
Rael opens his eyes.
For a split second—
The entire room feels heavier.
Not physically.
Existentially.
A pressure so subtle that no one consciously notices it.
But every student feels… uneasy.
Vael pauses.
Just for a moment.
Then the feeling disappears.
Rael steps back.
Weakest in the class.
Officially.
But as he returns to his seat, he whispers to himself:
"…Why does it feel like something is waiting?"
No one hears him.
Not yet.
And they won't.
Until Chapter Two.
"Phase Three: The Decree of War" :
The sky fractures at sunset.
Across Avarenth, clouds tear open in synchronized spirals. A colossal projection forms — visible in every city, every wasteland, every battlefield.
A throne appears within the sky.
Seated upon it is a figure clad in armor forged from condensed starlight.
Silver horns curve backward from his helm.
His voice shakes continents.
"I am **Zarephis**, Vice Sovereign of Embalios."
Every Qareen kneels instinctively.
"By decree of the Absolute Reflection… the time of stillness ends."
The air vibrates.
"For centuries, the vermin of **Zalarnkos** have defied us."
The image shifts.
A burning world appears — jagged crimson landscapes filled with towering obsidian spires. Creatures move within the flames — horned, winged, grotesque.
The Ifrit of Zalarnkos.
Ancient enemies of the Qareen.
"Zalarnkos prepares invasion."
Gasps ripple across cities.
"They believe us weakened."
Zarephis rises from the throne.
"They believe Embalios distracted."
The sky darkens.
"They are wrong."
Lightning splits the heavens.
"Thus, by Sovereign Command… the Trial of Ascension begins."
Symbols ignite across the projection.
"The strongest among you will be chosen."
"The chosen will become Vanguard Generals."
"The Generals will lead the annihilation of Zalarnkos."
The world trembles.
"This trial shall take place at a sacred peak."
A mountain appears.
Jagged. Black. Surrounded by spiraling storm clouds.
"Mount Shamhrosh."
The name alone carries weight.
A forbidden summit. A place where reflections behave… incorrectly.
Zarephis' final words echo like a blade sliding from its sheath:
"Only those who survive may call themselves worthy."
The projection shatters.
The sky seals.
Silence grips the world.
And for the first time—
Rael smiles.
"Phase Four: The Mountain and the General" :
Mount Shamhrosh pierces the sky like a broken fang.
The path upward is not stone.
It is memory.
Each step forces challengers to relive their most defining reflection.
Hundreds gather at its base — elite students, battle-hardened Qareen, nobles, assassins.
Energy crackles in the air.
Rael stands among them.
Alone.
"Didn't think you'd show up."
A familiar voice cuts through the wind.
Rael turns.
Standing atop a jagged rock is a towering figure clad in obsidian armor, marked with the crest of Embalios' elite guard.
White hair. Crimson eyes.
**General Kael Veyrith.**
Rael's cousin.
The youngest general in Embalios' army.
And the strongest Qareen of their bloodline.
Kael descends with effortless grace.
"You have no Dominant Reflection," Kael says calmly. "This mountain will devour you."
Rael doesn't flinch.
"Maybe."
Kael steps closer.
The air trembles from his presence alone.
"Why are you here?"
Rael meets his gaze.
"…Because something is wrong."
Kael's expression shifts — almost imperceptibly.
"What do you mean?"
Rael looks up at the mountain.
"It feels like this trial isn't for war."
Wind howls violently.
"It feels like… bait."
Kael's aura explodes outward, shattering nearby stone.
"Careful what you imply."
Rael steps forward.
"For someone."
Silence.
For the first time in years, General Kael Veyrith hesitates.
Behind them—
Mount Shamhrosh pulses.
Deep within its core, something ancient awakens.
A presence older than Embalios.
Older than reflections.
Older than the concept of Qareen.
And it whispers one name.
Rael.
Suddenly, challengers begin screaming as the mountain consumes the first wave.
Reality distorts.
Gravity reverses.
Shadows detach from their owners and attack them.
Kael grips his blade.
"Last chance," he says. "Leave."
Rael's expression hardens.
"I don't have a shadow to lose."
For the first time—
Kael truly looks at him.
And sees it.
Not weakness.
Not absence.
But a void so complete… it cannot be measured.
The mountain roars.
The trial begins.
And somewhere, far above in his inverted palace, Embalios opens his eyes.
Because the bait has been taken.
And the one without a reflection…
Has just stepped onto the board.
The sky bleeds.
The mountain doesn't just roar; it breathes.
And with every breath, the laws of the world vanish.
Kael lunges forward, his obsidian blade glowing with a terrifying light.
"Then survive," Kael growls.
But Rael doesn't move.
He doesn't reach for a weapon.
He doesn't call upon a Qareen.
He simply closes his eyes.
Thump.
A heartbeat.
Not Rael's.
Not Kael's.
It comes from the very air they breathe.
The screaming challengers frozen in mid-air.
The falling rocks stopped in their tracks.
Time itself hasn't paused—it has been strangled.
In the silence, a sound like cracking glass echoes from Rael's chest.
Kael's eyes widen.
For the first time in his life, the General feels something he hasn't felt since childhood.
Terror.
The "Void" in Rael begins to leak.
It's not smoke.
It's not shadow.
It is a fracture in existence itself.
And through that fracture, something reaches out.
A hand? A claw? A thought?
It brushes against Kael's elite armor, and the obsidian turns to dust instantly.
Rael's eyes snap open.
They are no longer human.
They are two hollow pits reflecting a world that hasn't been born yet.
High above, in the inverted palace, the Great Embalios stands up from his throne.
His hand trembles.
"Impossible," the ruler whispers.
"The bait was for a soul..."
"But that... that is a Grave."
Back on the mountain, Rael speaks.
His voice doesn't come from his mouth.
It comes from everywhere.
"Phase Four... is over."
The mountain shatters.
And the screen goes black.