Nevarion is a boundless world of colossal scale, boasting an immense radius of 31,890 kilometers and a vast circumference reaching 200,375 kilometers. Sixty percent of its surface is engulfed by raging, untamed oceans, while the remaining forty percent of land stands as an arena ruled by ancient dynasties, rising kingdoms, and mighty empires. This world is governed on one hand by the traditional bonds of monarchy, and on the other by the possibilities afforded by advanced technology. By the year 2221 of the Imperial Calendar, Nevarion had grown too vast to be contained within its own borders; nations were preparing for a grand race of discovery, constructing their own starships to illuminate the darkness between the stars.
Yet beneath this technological splendor lies a far darker and blood-soaked past. For countless years—especially across the continent of Valthera—wars never truly ceased, and violence became nearly inseparable from daily life. This endless era of chaos, during which civilian and military casualties reached into the billions, was only brought under control through an unexpected union of power. Two colossal forces, the Empires of Azera and Turanya, forged an unbreakable alliance, sealed through a political marriage. This strategic bond became a dam that restrained other nations from acting recklessly. Though rivals devised countless intrigues and conspiracies to fracture this union, the brilliance of the two emperors rendered every scheme futile. Through rational governance and shared ideals, the peoples of the two empires gradually ceased to view one another as enemies and instead came to see each other as brothers.
In the seventieth year of their alliance, the two emperors issued a proclamation that would alter the course of history: from that moment onward, no nation would be permitted to attack another without a legitimate cause. Any violator would face the wrath of both empires. The continent was shaken by this declaration. Some denounced it as arrogance, others as hubris, while many believed it to be nothing more than deception. When no one took the warning seriously, wars continued unabated, and the ambition of smaller nations to devour one another burned as fiercely as ever.
With their patience exhausted, the two emperors launched a campaign that would shake the world in the seventy-second year of the alliance. Their goal was to end this senseless cycle of bloodshed through force and to leave behind a peaceful world for future generations—for their own grandchildren. The Turanyan Empire advanced westward with its colossal armies, while the Azeran Empire marched east. The proclamation they had issued had merely been a pretext; they required a legitimate foundation for war to avoid being branded as invaders.
As the armies advanced, local kingdoms initially perceived them as conquerors and were seized by fear. However, once they realized that the imperial forces attacked only those who threatened peace and left neutral states untouched, they chose cautious observation instead. When hostile elements were eliminated one by one, the inevitable proposal was laid upon the table: the kingdoms would accept becoming vassal states of the empires in exchange for highly favorable terms. Azera and Turanya would finance these realms, elevate them technologically, and train their armies. Yet there was a severe condition—aggression against other lands was strictly forbidden. Any act of betrayal would result in the annexation of the ruling dynasty and the transformation of its lands into direct imperial territory.
To the smaller kingdoms, this agreement appeared from the outside like a magnificent golden cage; yet the benefits within were far too great to refuse. Placing themselves under the protection of two colossal empires promised absolute security and rapid prosperity. The cost of refusal was equally clear: invasion and burial within the dusty pages of history. The emperors pledged not to interfere directly in the internal governance or sovereignty of the kingdoms, with one exception—the oppression of the people. Whenever justice was violated, the imperial claw would intervene without hesitation. Most kingdoms accepted this guardianship, fully aware that they had no real alternative. Naturally, there were those who refused to submit, pursuing dark ambitions through secret alliances; however, they catastrophically underestimated the power that Azera and Turanya had attained. The two empires had pooled all discoveries in medicine, natural sciences, and engineering into a single reservoir, revolutionizing military technology and creating an unbridgeable gulf between themselves and their rivals.
When war finally erupted, the sight was horrifying. Though the battles were fierce, the balance of power was entirely one-sided. Turanya shattered enemy ranks along the western front, while Azera forced its adversaries to their knees in the east. In desperation, other nations clung to the ancient doctrine of "the enemy of my enemy is my friend" and attempted to form vast coalitions. Yet the two emperors had anticipated these moves decades in advance. Through espionage and diplomatic manipulation, they sowed discord among rival states; pitting nations already consumed by centuries of hatred against one another proved effortless. Azera and Turanya, by contrast, formed an unshakable bloc—born of shared origins and bloodlines, refined by a modern vision. The distrust that had plagued previous generations was completely eradicated through a brotherhood painstakingly woven over seventy-two years. Heirs and members of both dynasties grew up together in monthly joint councils, sealing the alliance not only on parchment, but within their hearts.
Unlike other powers, Azera and Turanya did not operate with a colonial mindset. While their rivals plundered conquered lands, enslaved populations, and erased cultures through forced assimilation, the two empires regarded every conquered territory as their homeland and every living soul as their own citizen. They did not interfere with language, faith, or ancient traditions; instead, they ensured peace by meeting fundamental needs. This just form of governance, inherited from their ancestors, allowed the people of conquered lands to embrace the empire with remarkable speed. As the populace bound itself loyally to the order that granted them peace, soldiers fought not merely to defend their homeland, but to uphold this greater justice. As a result, the imperial core territories entered the most stable and tranquil era in recorded history.
This colossal war that challenged the entire continent lasted fourteen long years. From intelligence warfare and sophisticated ambushes to the incitement of internal rebellions and the deployment of extreme biological weapons, every method of destruction was employed—yet the two empires repelled every assault with an iron will. While the emperors commanded their armies on the front lines, their heirs successfully preserved order within the heartlands. Finally, in the spring months of the year 1752 of the Imperial Calendar, the guns fell silent and ceasefire treaties were signed. The unquestionable victor of the war that had raged for seventeen centuries was the unbreakable alliance of Azera and Turanya. Across the continent, twelve empires and thirty-five kingdoms withdrew into deep silence and long periods of reconstruction to heal their grievous wounds.
After this great victory, the Empires of Azera and Turanya did not succumb to history's greatest illusion—complacency. The intoxication of triumph never reached their palaces. Immediately following a month of jubilant celebrations that strengthened unity among the people, the state apparatus shifted its focus to development at an unprecedented pace. Scientific research spread into every field, from laboratories to farmlands, from factories to military barracks. Knowing that a future coalition driven by vengeance would one day return, the emperors revised population policies, encouraged higher birth rates, and enacted the doctrine of "total defense." Through mandatory conscription, both women and men of the civilian population underwent disciplined military training during designated periods each year. From that point onward, every farmer became a sentinel, and every worker a soldier.
These formidable maneuvers did not escape the notice of the defeated powers. Upon the ashes of the hot war, an invisible yet chilling "Cold War" arose. Other nations joined the arms race, spreading their intelligence networks into every corner of Nevarion. Yet the system established by the two emperors was like an impenetrable adamantium wall. Through counterintelligence operations, economic barriers, and overwhelming technological superiority, their enemies were disappointed time and again. In time, the names of the two leaders became immortal; their allies exalted them as "Guardians of the World" and "Just Rulers," while the foes they had brought to their knees spat hatred, calling them "Crimson Tyrants" or "Cruel Dictators."
In the years 1759 and 1760 of the Imperial Calendar, these two legendary figures passed away one year apart, succumbing to the lingering wounds of old battlefields and the weight of age. Mourning was declared across imperial lands, while enemies beyond the borders celebrated their deaths as a festival. Yet the celebrations were short-lived; for the new heirs who ascended the thrones were leaders forged in the fires of war, proving that they would carry their fathers' system even further. No one dared to attack, because the legacy of Azera and Turanya endured—even if their rulers had fallen.
For the following two hundred years, this golden age continued uninterrupted. To preserve the alliance, the dynasties enforced strict rules regarding succession and marriage policies. Inter-dynastic marriages were generally preferred to safeguard the bond between the two families. On rare occasions, marriages with commoners were permitted, but only after months of exhaustive intelligence investigations. Bringing in a bride or groom from another nation was the greatest taboo; heirs who defied this rule were stripped of all titles and claims to the throne and permanently erased from the lineage records. Emotional bonds might remain within the family, but the survival of the state stood above all personal desires.
The early years of the 2000s marked the greatest trial of this long era of peace. This time, it was not a simple border skirmish, but a massive coalition assault formed by five of the nine great empires and numerous kingdoms. The outcome, however, entered world history as "The Four-Year Humiliation." The technological and tactical superiority of Azera and Turanya was so overwhelming that the sole reason the war lasted four years was the immense distances the armies had to traverse. After this victory, no one ever again dared to challenge the twin apex empires.
Under the shadow of this unshakable stability, Nevarion civilization stood on the threshold of the space age. Dreams of reaching the stars flourished, and the construction of the first interstellar vessels was completed. Yet while humanity gazed upward, catastrophe seeped in from the most unexpected place—from the very fabric of reality itself.
The Rift…
In the year 2221 of the Imperial Calendar, while humanity fixed its eyes on distant stars, apocalypse emerged from the depths of Nevarion, from the dark caves of a modest kingdom known as Colrad. It all began with a farmer who stumbled upon a sinister void by pure chance. The most advanced radars of the modern world failed to detect this "Rift," for it emitted no energy signatures known to Nevarion science, hiding within reality like a shadow.
The King of Colrad perceived this unknown not as a threat, but as a potential treasure. Encouraged by scientists who insisted, "We cannot know what it is unless we go inside," he dispatched an expedition force consisting of twelve soldiers and four scientists, equipped with elite gear and accompanied by two heavy tanks. The moment they crossed the threshold, all radio communications fell silent, and contact was lost forever. After three weeks of hopeful waiting, the first team was presumed dead. Driven by ambition, the King ordered second, third, and fourth expeditions; each time increasing the numbers, yet the result never changed—the Rift devoured everything that entered.
In a final gambit, a full-scale army was sent into the Rift. Of this colossal force, only a single person returned—and he had lost his mind. He spoke incessantly of monsters, of an indescribable death, and of endless darkness. Concealing the disappearance of more than four thousand soldiers and massive war machines within a cave was no longer possible. Neighboring nations noticed the inexplicable activity along Colrad's borders and placed their armies on alert. Secrets could no longer remain hidden within Nevarion's technological networks.
A courageous reporter whose brother had vanished, receiving no answers from official authorities, located the cave on his own and infiltrated the restricted zone. The moment he activated his camera, the live broadcast signal flooded screens across all of Nevarion. The world saw that eerie, violet glow for the first time. As Colrad's soldiers attempted to seize the reporter and cut the broadcast, the fabric of reality tore apart. The Rift suddenly expanded, stretched outward, and unleashed arcs of purple lightning. Then, that colossal shadow emerged.
The creature that slithered forth from the Rift was a gigantic serpent, nearly forty meters tall, its black scales gleaming like metal, its back lined with spikes, and its eyes burning blood-red. At that moment, before the eyes of billions, Nevarion experienced its first "Rift Breach." Kingdom soldiers opened fire in panic, but technological marvels—advanced ammunition and plasma weapons—failed to leave even a scratch upon the serpent's ancient scales. This one-sided massacre, broadcast live, inflicted upon the world a terror it had never known.
The horror deepened as countless small and large monsters poured out of the cave behind this colossal vanguard. By the third day of the breach, three major cities had fallen, and half of Colrad's army had been erased from the map. The once-arrogant King, from his palace reduced to ruins, sent desperate pleas for aid to neighboring nations, surrendering significant portions of his sovereignty. The price of existing far from the protection of the Empires of Turanya and Azera was being paid in the blood of his entire people.
With the intervention of neighboring countries, the war continued for six days. While smaller creatures could be stopped by conventional fire, killing the gigantic serpents required the sacrifice of thousands of soldiers. When victory was finally achieved, Colrad and its neighbors were unrecognizable. Yet the true horror revealed itself a week later: across the world, six new Rifts appeared, each glowing with a different color. Within four months, their number reached twenty; by the end of the ninth month, it had risen to three hundred.
Nevarion civilization grasped a bitter truth—this was not a temporary invasion, but the planet's new and merciless reality. All resources, research centers, and intellect once devoted to space exploration were redirected toward a single goal: developing weapons capable of harming these monsters. Humanity stood on the brink of awakening and annihilation, being dragged into a war it could not yet even name.
With the Colrad disaster, Nevarion finally comprehended that painful reality: dreams of reaching the stars had become a luxury; survival against the invasion rising from beneath the ground and through tears in the sky was now the true priority. Vast space shipyards were transformed overnight into colossal munitions factories. Every scientific mind focused not on exploring the galaxy, but on how to pierce the steel-hard scales of Rift creatures. Yet technological evolution, when measured against the speed of supernatural devastation, moved no faster than a crawling tortoise.
The true tragedy erupted on Astra, Nevarion's relatively small yet strategically vital continent. In what would be recorded in history as the first "S-Rank Breach," the fabric of reality tore apart with such a thunderous force that the resulting energy wave paralyzed all electronic systems across the continent. More than fifty thousand monsters surged from the Rift like a living flood, crashing down upon the cities. But what sealed absolute despair was not their numbers—it was the majestic terror rising among them: a Dragon. As if torn straight from ancient legends, this creature was virtually impervious to the heaviest artillery, the most advanced missiles, and thermal weapons. With a single beat of its wings, it reduced an entire battalion to ash; with its roar, it obliterated defensive lines entirely.
Half of the continent of Astra became, within just a few weeks, the dragon's absolute domain and was sealed off from humanity. The domino effect triggered by the monsters fleeing the region turned neighboring nations into seas of blood as well. By the end of that year, the toll was horrific: an estimated 1.2 billion people had lost their lives. Similar devastation unfolded in island nations, yet there the catastrophe remained silent, hidden within the dark depths of the oceans. An "SS-Rank Breach" that occurred along the ocean floor shattered the planet's ecological balance at its core. Colossal aquatic monsters and an entirely new, previously unseen marine population seized control of the underwater world, permanently altering Nevarion's maritime trade routes and ecosystem. Humanity had become a besieged prey within its own world.
At the very point where all hope seemed extinguished, where the end of civilization appeared inevitable—the Awakening began.
Without any scientific foundation, ordinary women and men started displaying extraordinary powers that surpassed their biological limits. Some commanded the elements themselves; others achieved agility that defied the laws of physics, while some radiated energies capable of healing the wounded. These "Awakened" proved to be the only force capable of standing against the monsters that humanity could not otherwise harm.
The Empires of Azera and Turanya, displaying their customary strategic brilliance, swiftly brought order to the chaos. To unite these scattered powers, they established the Hunters' Union. This organization evolved into a professional force that hunted monsters, cleared Rifts, and transported all acquired biological materials and intelligence to the imperial centers. Monster corpses were worth their weight in gold to the medical and weapons industries, and hunters were paid immense fortunes for them. Simultaneously, the Rift Research Union was founded, pursuing a single, haunting mystery: why did these Rifts emit no signals whatsoever until mere seconds before their rupture? Imperial treasuries were opened without restraint to this organization, in the hope of detecting this insidious threat before it emerged.
Other kingdoms attempted to imitate this system, yet what kept Azera and Turanya at the summit was, once again, their human-centered policies. They offered hunters not only wealth, but honor and security. Any hunter who fell in the line of duty was officially declared a martyr; their families were placed under lifelong imperial protection and provided with the highest standards of living. This profound sense of belonging drew the most talented Awakened individuals toward these two empires in great numbers.
Four hundred years have passed since the Awakening. Now, twenty percent of Nevarion's population consists of individuals possessing these special abilities. Humanity has learned—somehow—to survive within this blood-soaked balance, to live under the shadow of the Rifts, and to clash with monsters every single day.
But everything was about to change…
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