The world of Euphoria had always walked the knife's edge between beauty and ruin.
To the untrained eye, its vast skies, glittering rivers, and silver cities seemed like proof of paradise. Mana-infused spires pierced the clouds, their crystalline tips glowing softly against the twilight. Skystream trains glided silently along rails of light, weaving between towers that scraped the heavens. Children laughed in the gardens of marble courtyards, their voices carrying like music on the wind.
Yet beneath that brilliance lay scars that refused to heal. Entire continents were marred by lifeless wastelands — gray deserts of glass and ash, the legacy of ancient wars. Craters filled with stagnant, poisonous waters dotted the earth where once great cities had stood. Radiation from humanity's reckless weapons still lingered, unseen but felt, leaving one-fifth of the planet uninhabitable.
The people of Euphoria lived knowing this beauty was fragile — a painted mask stretched thin over the memory of fire.
And still, they dreamed.
Dreams had carried them to the stars. Dreams had driven them to break through the invisible boundary that shielded their planet — the Veil woven by the gods a thousand years ago. The great voyage had been hailed as a dawn of a new age: ships of steel and mana sails leaving their atmosphere in search of untouched worlds. They had believed salvation waited beyond the dark.
But salvation never came.
It came instead as silence — a silence that grew heavier with every day the voyagers failed to return. And then, without warning, the silence broke.
The heavens tore open.
---
The Fall of Kaelith
Kaelith, the Jewel of the Western Coast, was the first to see them.
Seated in the watchtower of the city wall, Captain Alaric Deyran squinted against the horizon. The sea had been calm moments ago, but now the waters shifted, restless. His gut twisted as the sun vanished behind a sudden shadow.
Then he saw them.
Black leviathans tearing through the clouds, their hulls gleaming like obsidian stone veined with molten crimson. They were vast — so vast the largest dwarfed Kaelith's tallest spire. Engines roared with a sound not born of wind or flame, but something deeper, like the grinding of the world's bones.
"Gods preserve us," Alaric whispered.
The alarm bells rang, a shrill cry that pierced every street and hall. People spilled from their homes, faces upturned, mouths agape. Mothers clutched children. Merchants abandoned their wares.
The first beam fell.
It was not fire, but a lance of energy that struck Kaelith's barrier wall. The mana-forged shield, said to withstand the fury of a thousand siege engines, shattered like brittle glass. The explosion rippled outward, hurling men and stone alike into the air.
"Shields up! Archers, mages—NOW!" Alaric roared. His command was swallowed by another beam, one that carved through the central district as if slicing parchment. Towers sagged, their stone melting, and the screams of thousands echoed into the sea.
He raised his sword, even as despair clawed at his heart. If this is the end, then I will meet it standing.
---
ThePriestessofEryndor
Far to the east, in the shining capital of Eryndor, High Priestess Selene Veyra knelt before the cold altar of Gaia. The temple had long since fallen to neglect, its marble floor cracked, its statues gathering dust. Few still prayed here.
She had lit the last of the sacred oils when the temple shook. A low hum vibrated through the air, setting the braziers to flickering. Selene gasped as the stone under her hands grew warm — warmer, until it pulsed with life.
Then she heard it.
Not with her ears, but deep inside her chest. A voice older than the sky itself.
"ChildrenofEuphoria."
The priestess staggered, clutching her chest. Tears welled unbidden. She had prayed for decades, enduring mockery from a world that no longer believed. And now, at last, the gods answered.
"Your world bleeds. Your cries reach us, and we awaken."
Golden light erupted from the altar, shattering centuries of dust. Sigils bloomed in the air, spinning and shifting, each bearing the mark of a god. Selene fell prostrate as one, a spiral of stars, hovered before her. Nyx.
"My lady…" she whispered, trembling. "Guide me."
And in her mind, a whisper like velvet:
Rise, child. The night has work for you.
---
TheChildoftheRuins
In the outskirts of Kaelith, where the invasion's first beams had torn through, a boy named Kieran crawled from the rubble of his home. His ears rang. The street where he had played only hours ago was gone, reduced to smoking ash. His parents were nowhere.
Around him, bodies littered the ground. Some still moved. Some never would again.
Kieran stumbled, clutching a broken wooden toy in his hand, the only thing that had survived the blast. He looked up at the black ships blotting out the sun.
His lips trembled. "Why… why won't the gods help us?"
The ground trembled in answer.
Runes of gold and fire erupted across the sky. The air grew heavy, pressing on his chest, filling his lungs with warmth and pain.
"The choice is before you: fall as prey, or rise as gods once did."
The rune burned itself into his arm, searing, but when he screamed it was not only in pain — it was in awakening.
---
TheReckoning
Across Euphoria, it was the same. Warriors felt strength flood their veins. Scholars' minds ignited with new visions. Farmers, beggars, thieves — all saw runes blaze across their skin as the System carved itself into their souls.
In the skies, the Thasaract faltered for the first time. Their crimson eyes flickered as they turned upward, sensing a power that had not stirred in a millennium.
And in the deepest silence of the Veil, the Primordials opened their eyes.
The gods had returned.
The Reckoning had begun.