Aeons past, upon the sprawling expanse of the Blue Azure continent, stood a military kingdom renowned throughout the known world for its formidable might and the dazzling facade of its prosperity. Yet, behind the grand, gilded pretense, a far darker reality festered. The very bedrock of its splendor was laid upon the widespread foundations of poverty, gnawing famine, relentless suffering, misery, and sorrow. Its common folk toiled and withered, while its bloated nobility indulged in unbridled, grotesque luxury.
Driven to the brink by the ceaseless tyranny of the nobles and royals, the people finally rose. They seized arms, their desperation forging a full-scale revolution. Their undisputed leader, the beacon of their defiance, was Tony Novaryon, revered as the Hero of Light and of New Beginnings.
But just as the flames of revolution were poised to ignite, Tony was struck by the most devastating blow of all: betrayal. It came from his closest, most trusted companions—the very individuals known as the Eight Heroes. On the eve of the uprising, Tony and his beloved son sought solace in a place of profound personal significance—a sacred land where his late wife rested. A meadow, an eternal tapestry of Snowdrop, Daffodil, Lotus, Morning Glory, White Lily, Torch Lily, Red Poppy, Gladiolus, Protea, and Chrysanthemum, bloomed perpetually, bathed in the soft, ethereal glow of a starry night sky.
Lost in the meadow's deceptive tranquility, Tony and his son allowed their defenses to drop—unaware of the treachery poised to unfold. Corrupted by the glittering lure of royal gold, the Eight Heroes desecrated that hallowed ground with a sudden, merciless assault. One devastating blow struck both Tony and his son—wounds so ruinous they would have felled any ordinary man. Yet their extraordinary tenacity, their indomitable vitality, refused to yield; they remained upright, defiant against death's embrace.
Without hesitation, Tony and his son drew their swords, their blades hissing from their sheaths, and faced their traitorous companions head-on. Even bleeding from life-ending wounds, they fought with a desperate, unyielding strength, matching the Eight Heroes blow for blow. By the end of that brutal, moonlit clash, three of the heroes lay dead, their treachery repaid in blood. The remaining five, grievously wounded and broken, fled into the night like shadows.
But the victory felt hollow, choked by ashes and the scent of death. Tony's son lay on the blood-soaked ground, a ruinous, gaping void torn through his chest, and Tony himself teetered on the razor's edge between life and death.
As Tony watched his seventeen-year-old son's life slip away, a despair more profound than any battle wound consumed him. Then, without warning, the boy's body lifted into the air, suspended in silent, ethereal stillness. From the raw, gaping wound in his chest, radiant white rays burst forth, enveloping him in a pulsating cocoon of pure light. Moments later, the brilliant glow faded—and his son stood whole, reborn, untouched by death.
But the miracle came at a steep, agonizing price. Tony now stood at death's very threshold, his formidable strength nearly gone, his essence flickering like a dying candle.
With the last, precious remnants of his will, he reached out, his trembling hand cupping his sobbing son's cheek. "My son," he whispered, each word a desperate struggle against the encroaching darkness. "I can no longer walk beside you. But my spirit, my will—they are yours now. Take up our name. Lead our people to a new beginning. That is the Novaryon way."
With those final, gasping words, Tony poured everything he had left into his son—his immense power, his unbreakable spirit, and the very essence of his heroic will.
And on that sacred ground, beneath the ancient, starry sky, a new Hero of Light and New Beginnings was born: the Immortal Hero, James Novaryon.
Strengthened by his father's dying will and a fierce, newfound resolve that burned in his very soul, James led the revolution against the five surviving heroes and the corrupt kingdom they served. The war that followed raged for three long decades—a brutal, unyielding campaign that tested the spirit of every soldier under his banner, forging them in blood and fire.
At last, after thirty relentless years of struggle, the Revolutionary Army triumphed, toppling the decaying Barathor Kingdom. James ascended the throne, and with his coronation, he forged a new era—renaming the land the Novaryon Kingdom in honor of the immense legacy he now carried.
King James Novaryon was known to his enemies as The Crimson Light of Novaryon, a title whispered in fear and awe of his unmatched, terrifying presence on the battlefield. But to the grateful citizens of Novaryon, he was revered as The Guiding Star of Novaryon, the steadfast northern star that had led them from the deepest, most crushing darkness into the illuminating light.
Under the sagacious rulership of King James, the kingdom not only recovered from the ravages of war but truly flourished beyond all imagination. Trade routes blossomed, bringing unprecedented wealth and exotic goods from distant lands. Innovation thrived, leading to groundbreaking advancements in agriculture, medicine, and magic that uplifted every citizen. Schools and academies became vibrant beacons of knowledge, and a fair, equitable justice system replaced the old tyranny. The common people, once starving, now knew abundance, their lives marked by peace and boundless opportunity. The Novaryon Kingdom became a radiant beacon of hope and prosperity, admired and emulated across the entire continent.
But as years bled into decades, and decades stretched into centuries, a chilling, insidious reality began to settle upon King James. He watched, helpless and agonizingly aware, as his beloved partners, his children, his grandchildren, and countless generations of descendants lived full, vibrant lives and then, one after another, succumbed to the inevitable, merciful embrace of death. Yet, he remained unchanged, frozen in time, exactly as he was on the day he turned thirty. For King James Novaryon was a True, Perfect, and Absolute Immortal.