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Chapter 1 - Chapter One: The Beginning of the End

Chapter One: The Beginning of the End

Long ago, before the Earth was torn apart into warring kingdoms, the four races — Humans, Elves, Dragons, and Dwarves — lived in peace and harmony. They united under one banner at the Mountain of Unity, the holiest and grandest peak on this small planet. At the heart of that mountain stood the Golden Capital, a magnificent city surrounded by towering mountains, gathering the peoples of all races under the rule of their united kings.

But on a fateful day... the first catastrophe struck.

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The First Catastrophe: The Great War

A brutal war, merciless and relentless, waged among the races themselves. Blood was spilled, children were killed, and mothers wept. The Golden Capital fell, collapsing into ruins and turning to forgotten ashes of a golden era that would never return.

When the dust cleared, the kings gathered in shock — they were not united by the cries of the wounded nor the wails of the orphans, but by the sight of their capital crumbling before their eyes without glory.

Each king decided to withdraw with his people, heading to a distant land where he could draw his borders and found his kingdom:

Humans settled along the coasts, founding the kingdom of Seifar.

The Elves retreated into the deep forests, establishing the kingdom of Silfarn.

The Dragons took refuge in the volcanic storm mountains, founding Niravin.

The Dwarves inhabited the towering Iron Mountains, building the kingdom of Durakin.

Thus, the Earth was torn apart, and the peoples scattered. For two hundred years, the memory of unity faded, its kings died, and a new generation grew up knowing only hatred and fear.

Despite peace treaties, skirmishes continued, slavery spread, and kidnapping and scorn became rampant. It was no true peace — only a fragile truce built on mutual dread, not respect.

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The Second Catastrophe: The Disappearance of the Sun

After two hundred and fifty years of hatred and division, a day came that changed everything.

The world was celebrating the anniversary of the founding. Farmers danced, commoners cheered, and nobles rejoiced.

Then, suddenly... everything stopped.

The sun vanished.

And the world was plunged into utter darkness.

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The Third Catastrophe: The Arrival of the Lords of War

As everyone — from kings to peasants — stood staring in disbelief at the sky, the space itself tore open, and massive gates opened from the void.

From these gates poured terrifying monsters, unlike anything this world had ever seen. Bloodthirsty creatures, destroying everything in their path.

But the worst was not the monsters...

It was those who came after.

The Lords of War.

Zilnar the Vile swept through the kingdom of Seifar with his army of undead beasts.

Sirius, the Lord of Stars, destroyed the kingdom of Niravin, extinguishing its eternal flames.

Erbius, the Lord of Spirits, besieged Silfarn, turning its forests into a lifeless mirage.

Eliar, the Lord of Knowledge, crushed Durakin with his iron flames and shadows.

No one survived, and no one knew where they came from.

But for the first time in centuries, everyone realized... the end had begun.

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The Alliance Army and the Great Liberation War

After years of suffering and fleeing from fallen kingdoms, the kings gathered once more, dragging the tails of defeat and shame.

They decided to open the Mountain of Unity, closed for 250 years, to reunite and face their shared fate.

Inside the great mountain stood a massive table surrounded by ancient chairs, and on the table's surface lay old swords — silent witnesses to the alliance and unity of the kings of old.

From the depths of the mountain, the Alliance Army was formed — a great army gathering the finest warriors from all races. Their first destination: war against the Lord of War, Zilnar.

Alliance Army: 350,000 warriors.

Zilnar's Army: 150,000 monsters.

But numbers were not everything.

The Alliance Army suffered a crushing defeat and scattered, returning to the Mountain of Unity, broken and desperate, seeking one last refuge... and once again, a fragile peace.

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The Birth

Ten years after the great defeat, in a small village outside the ruins of the old Golden Capital... a child was born.

A child no one knew whether he would carry the hope of this world...

Or become its darkest nightmare.

Worse than the Lords themselves.

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