I didn't write this for me.
I wrote it because people die when they don't know what they're walking into. Not strangers—people I loved. I'm tired of digging graves for the unprepared.
Everyone still acts like mana is our ally. But I've seen what it does to people. I've heard the tales of glory. I've also watched it melt the veins out of a man's body while he screamed for a mercy that never came.
That's not power… That's a sick roulette.
If you're compatible, you evolve. If you're not, you die in agony.
So we humans push harder. Where I come from, they bred power and fed it with bodies until someone survived. We carve ourselves into new shapes just to keep up. Every time we fail, we lose something that doesn't grow back.
But the beasts? They're not losing anything. They're only gaining. Some grew stronger. Some grew smarter. None stayed the same.
And humans? We're not the apex anymore.
Most of us are hiding in what's left of the old world, pretending our walls will hold. Pretending compassion still has a place.
Nérou is one of those places. But we chose compassion. We chose to fight without becoming what we fear.
This Codex isn't a story. It's a weapon made of information.
The world ended. It's time we come to terms with that.
This is how we survive the apocalypse.
Don't read this for hope. Read it because you want to live.
— Dimiour of Nérou
Codex Author. Still alive. Still evolving.