On a massive continent whose exact location remains unknown, there's a cool, tranquil village surrounded by towering trees. This village, named Cryverra by the ancestors, has been home to two races who've lived there for thousands of years—peacefully.
Their daily lives are calm and harmonious—no fights, no arguments, and definitely no baseless accusations. In fact, for millennia, there hasn't been a single case of murder—neither within the same race nor between the two.
Each race carries a unique set of abilities inherited from their ancestors. The first are the Veylarin, a magical race born with innate powers. Their abilities vary—some can transform living beings, some can create objects out of thin air, and others can even teleport in an instant.
Then there's the Caldavarns, a race of scientists known for their advanced thinking and tech-savvy minds. Unlike the Veylarin, they rely on intellect and logic. Give them the right materials, and they can build insanely advanced stuff with ease. One of their earlier inventions was a machine that boosts plant growth by 40%—and that's just scratching the surface. If you think that sounds average, trust me, you haven't seen anything yet.
It all began in the year 1061, in an unknown region hidden deep within a dense, chilly forest. There, in an isolated village, life moved peacefully as usual.
On a quiet morning, children of the Veylarin clan were practicing their magical skills, while children of the Caldavarn clan sharpened their minds through training and study.
Suddenly, a blood-curdling scream echoed from the village market. People dropped what they were doing and rushed to the source. When they arrived, they were struck with horror—a woman's lifeless body lay behind one of the stalls, soaked in blood.
Shock filled the air. Some villagers gasped. Others collapsed in disbelief. After all, for 3100 years, since the era of their very first ancestors, there had never been a single case of murder in Cryverra—until now.
And for the first time in history, the Veylarin and Caldavarns turned against one another. Each side began blaming the other. Defending their own kind. No one believed their own race could've committed such a gruesome act.
As voices clashed and fingers pointed, a small boy stood in the distance—his gaze locked on the body. His hands trembled. Tears streamed down his face. His heart was breaking, torn between sorrow, rage, and emptiness.
Because the woman lying in that pool of blood…
Was his mother.
Her name was never spoken in that moment. But his was—Remi Veylarin.
Remi slowly approached his mother's corpse, the chaos of accusations around him sounding like distant echoes. Standing over her body, he whispered only one thing, in a soft, trembling voice:
"Please… someone help me bury my mom."
From that day forward, Remi tried to continue life as usual—living with his father, spending time with his friends.
But one truth could never be denied:
This was the first murder in Cryverra's entire history.
And it was only the beginning.