In the beginning, there was the Word. And the Word became Light. And from the Light, the Worlds were born.
The Creator, known by countless names — God, the One Who Is, the Source — brought forth the universes, endowing each with its own laws, time, and life. From His will arose the races: mighty angels, proud demons, fire-breathing dragons, graceful elves, playful fae, and others — ancient, beautiful, eternal. They inhabited the worlds in harmony, each fulfilling its purpose. All worshipped the Creator, offered tributes, sang hymns, and believed themselves His reflection.
But one day, everything changed.
God created humans.
Fragile. Mortal. Undeveloped. No magic, no wings, no strength. In the eyes of the elder races, they were a mistake. Trash. And yet, the Creator granted them a sacred gift — free will. They were not made "perfect" — they had the power to become. To grow. To err. To forgive.
The other races watched with unease, but none dared oppose God's will. Slowly, they began to draw closer to humans, seeing in them a mirror of their own forgotten hopes. Centuries passed. Then millennia. Wars turned into alliances. And so it seemed — a Golden Age was coming.
But in the hearts of some, discontent began to fester.
One of them was Mercury, the first among the Seraphim — God's beloved warrior, commander of the legions of Light.
He could not accept the new order.
> "Humans are a mistake. They have done nothing to deserve this mercy."
"They are weak in body, but strong in soul," said God.
"A soul? That is an illusion. You have betrayed us, Father."
Mercury began to gather followers in secret. Hidden meetings, whispered sermons, forbidden oaths. He was not alone. Entire legions came to believe in his cause. Their symbol became a crossed-out sun — the mark of unforgiving justice.
And one day — War ignited.
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Mercury led the crusade against humanity.
The boundaries between worlds were shattered. Cities burned, mountains crumbled, the sky tore apart from the fury of the Celestials. Even demons joined forces with humans, realizing that Mercury would stop at nothing.
The Battle of the Silent Plain became the turning point. Mercury alone slew seven Elder Dragons. He didn't just destroy flesh — he incinerated souls. People prayed, but no salvation came.
And then — God descended from His Throne.
He came not in wrath. But in sorrow.
> "My son… what have you done?"
A final dialogue passed between them. But there was no saving what had begun. In a burst of rage, Mercury pierced his Creator's heart. The world fell still. The Light went out.
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God was dead.
All that remained was glowing ash, shimmering in crimson light. In that moment, Mercury wept — for the first time. His tears fell upon scorched earth, turning into red crystals. From that day forward, they were called Tears of the Creator — the only remaining source of pure energy in all the worlds.
But no one rejoiced in victory. Even Mercury's followers abandoned him. He became a symbol of betrayal, ruin, and sorrow.
He could have taken the throne — but refused. Instead, he renounced his divinity, cut off his wings, and exiled himself to the world of humans.
Years passed.
Millennia turned into ages.