Under the guidance of the Emperor of Humankind, the very foundations of politics, society, and war shifted forever. Paper money became worthless, a relic of a bygone age. In the new world, value was no longer measured in wealth or influence, but in raw strength, sharp intellect, and the ability to wield the force of Wave.
Generals, strategists, and soldiers rose to prominence. Men and women of arms became the backbone of civilization, while politicians found themselves reduced to irrelevance. Charisma and speeches no longer mattered when a single warrior could slaughter an army with a gesture. Power was no longer debated in courts—it was proven on the battlefield.
For nearly a year, the Emperor trained his people, teaching them the rudiments of Wave cultivation and preparing them to face the unimaginable dangers ahead. When humanity was ready, he led them out of their ancestral home, abandoning the poisoned husk of the Old World for a new beginning.
Sheltered by the Emperor's unmatched strength and the growing ranks of soldiers who mastered Wave, humanity carved a foothold in this strange dimension. It was a harsh and perilous struggle, but not an impossible one.
Yet the new world posed challenges far greater than monsters. Its physical laws differed from those of Earth. Technology designed for the Old World faltered here; engines failed, weapons jammed, and energy systems became inert.
Science itself had to be remade.
Despite the setbacks, humanity persevered. Territory expanded, settlements rose, and once-terrifying beasts were hunted down and turned into food or resources. Humanity adapted, as it always had.
Seventy-six years after stepping into this new dimension, two revelations shook civilization.
The first: this world already had a name. It was Aether, and the land upon which humanity had taken root was but one continent—Gaia. Though its true size remained unknown, Gaia alone was one thousand times larger than the Old World.
The second: humanity was not alone. Aether was home to other intelligent races, each as cunning as mankind, yet more advanced in their mastery of Wave.
What began as wary encounters quickly escalated into violence. War erupted between humanity and these alien peoples—creatures who would later be remembered under one title: the Dark Races.
Though humanity had grown powerful, we were still infants compared to these ancient enemies. Their champions, revered as Gods, wielded might that dwarfed our own. Unlike the unseen deities of the Old World, these "Gods" were tangible beings of flesh and blood—supernatural giants who crushed mountain ranges with their fists and boiled seas with their breath. Against such power, humanity bled. Our armies crumbled, our settlements burned. We teetered on extinction.
And when humanity is cornered, it does what it has always done best.
We destroy.
For a century, our brightest minds labored in secret, salvaging fragments of lost Old World technology and adapting them for Aether's alien physics. At last, they succeeded. From the bones of the Old World's deadliest weapon, they forged a nightmare reborn.
H-Bombs.
Nuclear weapons so potent they unleashed heat one hundred times greater than the Old World's sun. These devices were refined, amplified, and reshaped until a single detonation could erase continents. A thousand of them were prepared.
The Emperor and his generals devised their gambit. Through deception and sacrifice, they lured the Dark Races' armies—Gods among them—into the heart of human territory. When the vast host arrived, they found nothing but empty plains.
And then, fire.
A thousand suns erupted as the H-Bombs ignited, tearing the night open with brilliance so fierce it turned darkness into day for fifteen minutes. The shockwave leveled mountains, and the earth quaked for days after.
Millions of Dark warriors perished. Even their vaunted Gods were broken, their bodies scarred and their power diminished. A few survived, but none without grievous wounds.
But the Emperor was no fool. He knew this strike was not victory, only reprieve. Humanity withdrew into hiding, nurturing its strength while the Dark Races licked their wounds.
For five centuries, an uneasy peace held. Humanity grew stronger, evolving with Wave. The Dark Races healed and schemed. And then, at last, war ignited again.
But this time, it was not the Dark Races who struck first. It was humanity.
Our armies surged forth, marching across Gaia with newfound confidence. Humanity's Wave warriors now matched their alien counterparts blow for blow. Against the Dark Races' Gods, however, ordinary soldiers still faltered.
And so, humanity gave birth to its own legends. Not Gods, but something else. Champions forged of flesh and will, capable of standing against divine power.
They were called Titans.
And the first among them, greatest of all, was the Emperor himself.
The conflict became known as the War of Supremacy. It raged for nearly a thousand years. Oceans ran red, skies burned, and cities were ground into dust. Hundreds of millions perished. Yet through blood and sacrifice, humanity endured. And at last, the Dark Races were shattered and driven from Gaia.
When the smoke cleared, humanity stood alone as master of the continent. We were no longer merely survivors. We were conquerors.
The Godslayer Humankind!
Cain's chest tightened with exhilaration as he closed the book. Even after so many readings, the story still ignited fire in his veins. Bloody though it was, that age had been a crucible of legends.
On the back cover, he traced the words etched as humanity's eternal creed. His pulse quickened as he read them aloud in a whisper.
We can comprehend the supernatural.
We can dominate the supernatural.
We can kill the supernatural.
—Adam, Emperor of Humankind, the First Titan.
Cain placed the history book back on the shelf with reverence and reached for the second volume: Introduction to Wave Cultivation.
If history inspired, this book instructed. For the Godslayer Humankind, the path to power was clear, and nearly universal. It began with the Sacred Organ, located in the lower belly—the Evolution Core.
In its natural state, Wave existed as Life Wave, invisible and intangible. Drawn into the Evolution Core, it transformed into Essence Wave, the energy that fueled warriors' strength.
The rate at which one could absorb Life Wave into the Evolution Core determined talent. Prodigies could ascend to Level One in months. Those like Cain, branded with a Low Tier 1 Wave Talent, required years—ten or more—for the same step.
There were methods to augment talent, whispered in rumor and recorded in restricted texts. Yet for commoners like Cain, such opportunities were impossibly distant, locked behind wealth and heritage he did not possess.
Still, he read on.
An hour passed as he traced every page, his body gradually easing as the Soldier Drugs dulled the remnants of pain. The fractures in his ribs still ached, but they no longer threatened to hinder his training.
Cain closed the book at last, placed it carefully on the shelf, and rose. Hunger gnawed at him, so he prepared a modest meal, eating in silence. Before leaving, he paused at the small shrine in his apartment, bowing deeply before the framed picture of his father.
Only then did he step outside.
The streets were quiet, the air sharp with the scent of metal and stone. Cain jogged steadily, his pace quickening as he left the city behind. Within half an hour, he reached a small forest on the outskirts, its shadows stretching like fingers across the ground.
His breathing deepened as he prepared for training, mind already focused. But in his concentration, he failed to notice the faint glint of eyes watching him from the darkness.