Chapter 0: Prologue - "SEEDS OF ETERNITY"
Before meaning, before light, before existence understood separation, there was only the Void — endless, silent, without intention. From its fathomless womb stirred two inevitabilities. They were not born, nor crafted, nor summoned; they simply awakened, as natural as gravity, as ancient as longing.
The first was Trugoat, the axis of virtue. His presence bent chaos into harmony, carving the scaffolding of existence so that stars could breathe with meaning. He was the spine of creation, the architect of justice, the unseen hand that ensured every spark of life carried purpose.
The second was Demifetan, the sovereign of dominion. His essence was order sharpened into command, a will that bent the void into ladders of power. From his breath rose hierarchy, from hierarchy rose distance, and from distance rose domination. He was ambition incarnate, the architect of supremacy, the force that sought not coexistence but remembrance — remembrance only of himself.
Together they stood as twin reflections of the void's yearning: Trugoat, who gave creation its moral spine, and Demifetan, who gave it the hunger to ascend. Harmony and dominion, coexistence and erasure — the paradox of beginnings. And when their eyes opened, the universe exhaled for the very first time.
When the gods turned their gaze upon creation, choice became destiny. Trugoat chose humanity — fragile yet filled with hope — and gifted them harmony, peace, and the promise of unity. Demifetan chose demons — fierce and unyielding — and granted them unrestrained power. Thus the balance fractured, and the seeds of war were sown.
Demifetan crowned a Demon King, a tyrant who ruled through terror. His voice was iron, his gaze a blade. He showed no mercy, and his armies swept across worlds, scattering planets like shards of glass across the void. Mortals perished in storms of fire and silence.
Trugoat endured, patient as eternity, until patience itself became a wound. At last, he entrusted fragments of his divine authority to two children — Azhar and Gabriel — mortal vessels chosen to bear the weight of gods.
Azhar was young, calm, and cunning — a strategist whose mind was sharper than steel. He led humanity against the demon legions, his command holding back tides of destruction with precision and restraint. Gabriel was young too, but a force of passion — short-tempered, tragic, and unyielding. He stood against the Demon King, his fury clashing against terror, each strike shaking dimensions. Once, Gabriel knelt, blood darkening the fractured stone beneath him, yet rose again, his defiance burning brighter than despair. Azhar abandoned command to join him, and together they fought as creation itself trembled.
Demons seized the chaos, overwhelming human armies, planting seeds of corruption within mortals — heirs to a throne yet unborn. At the brink of annihilation, the Demon King fell, his crown shattered by sacrifice. Azhar and Gabriel, broken and near death, gave their remaining power to humanity, forging warrior clans that would endure through ages. Their bodies dissolved into dust, their names carried only in whispers.
In the final moment, Trugoat descended. God faced god. Virtue faced dominion. With his own soul as the seal, he bound Demifetan. In that sacrifice, Trugoat vanished from existence, leaving silence where his presence had once been.
Leaderless, the demons faltered. Humanity, bearing the gifts of fallen heroes, rose in defiance. Through great rituals and sacrifices, they tore the demon world from their own, separating dimensions so that peace might breathe again. And thus began the age of mortals — powered and unpowered alike — living without gods, without saviors, guided only by the memory of sacrifice and the fragile hope of unity.