The sun hung low over the massive fortress of Vandrel, its rays filtered through the dense clouds above, casting a muted golden hue over the city's towering walls. It was a city built on ancient stones, both literally and metaphorically, with layers of history embedded in every brick. Every man, woman, and child knew their place within the hierarchy, from the lowest civilian to the highest-ranking officer in the Requiem Order.
But for Elian Fyre, the city was nothing but a cage—a prison that kept him bound by rules, expectations, and a past that refused to stay buried. He stared at the towering Runestone Barrier in the distance, the shimmering, impenetrable wall that separated the remnants of humanity from the Ancients—godlike, primal monstrosities that roamed the lands beyond.
"Elian! Come inside!" Sylvie's voice broke through the haze of his thoughts.
Elian turned to see his younger sister, Sylvie Fyre, standing at the doorway of their humble home, her face framed by the soft light of the fading evening. She was small and delicate, her blonde hair braided neatly down her back, but there was a quiet strength in her eyes—a strength Elian admired deeply.
"I'm coming, Sylvie," Elian replied, his voice a mix of exhaustion and resolve. He gave the distant barrier one last look, a grim reminder of the world they lived in. The Ancients were still out there, waiting, but for now, the Runestone Wall held. For now, humanity was safe.
Sylvie smiled, but it was a smile tinged with concern. "You've been staring at that wall for hours again. You need to take a break, Elian. You can't always be thinking about the Ancients. You know they can't reach us, not with the guardians protecting us."
Elian didn't respond. She was right, of course. The Twelve Arcanums, mythical warriors who sacrificed themselves centuries ago, had sealed the Ancients away by creating the Twelve Guardian Ancients—beings who held the key to the barrier that kept humanity safe. But Elian couldn't shake the feeling that the safety was only temporary, like a dam holding back an inevitable flood.
"I'm fine, Sylvie," he said, more to reassure himself than her, before stepping inside.
---
The next morning, the world outside their home seemed unchanged, yet Elian knew better. He had already heard the rumors—the whispers of something terrible stirring beyond the barriers. The Ancients, once thought to be dormant, were stirring in their prisons. It was only a matter of time before they broke free. And when they did, nothing could stop them.
He and Sylvie lived on the outskirts of Vandrel, far from the towering walls and the hustle of the military. Elian had always been a quiet, reserved young man, his focus on his training as a soldier in the Requiem Order, though his heart was never fully in it. He had always been the weakest of his peers, struggling to meet the expectations placed on him by the military. His friends and fellow soldiers were warriors—strong, bold, and unyielding. But Elian... he was different. He had always lacked the innate power needed to truly face the horrors of the Ancients. He trained, but it never felt like enough.
---
The sound of distant roars suddenly shattered the stillness of the morning. Elian's heart sank as he recognized the deep, guttural sound. He grabbed his blade, instinctively reaching for the weapon that had been with him through every battle, every training session. It was a Runeblade, crafted from rare titanium and infused with the power of ancient runes. It was the only weapon capable of even grazing an Ancient's tough hide. But even that was only a slight hope. It wouldn't be enough to kill.
"Elian...!" Sylvie called out from the other room, her voice shaky with fear. "What's happening? What is that sound?"
Before Elian could answer, the house suddenly trembled as if the earth itself had been shaken by an earthquake. A deep, resonant crash echoed through the streets of their village, followed by a cacophony of shouts. Elian's heart pounded as he rushed toward the door, his mind racing.
Then he saw it.