Year 2198.
One hundred and fifty years had passed since the end of the Third World War—a war so catastrophic that historians, philosophers, and survivors alike still struggled to find the words that could truly capture its magnitude. It was not simply a conflict of armies; it was the collapse of civilizations, ideologies, and the very trust that had once connected the nations of Earth.
The Third World War burned for seven years and three months. At first, it had been a desperate clash of economic supremacy, a struggle for dwindling resources, and a race to weaponize technology faster than rivals could react. But as alliances broke and treaties turned to ash, it escalated beyond comprehension.
Nuclear arsenals, biological weapons, and autonomous war machines flooded the Earth. Cities that had stood for millennia crumbled in weeks. Oceans boiled where bombs fell. Skies darkened with smoke and radiation.
By the end, the Earth was silent.
Billions were dead. Borders no longer mattered, for most of them had been erased in the firestorms. The survivors—those unlucky and lucky enough to outlast the nightmare—looked out upon a world unrecognizable. It was a fractured sphere scarred by radiation, poisoned rivers, collapsed nations, and skies that wept ash.
And yet… humanity endured.
The Spark of Unity
In the aftermath of ruin, there was no longer space for prideful nationalism. Those who had once called themselves presidents, prime ministers, kings, or generals found themselves stripped of their empires. Survival became the only common language.
From the rubble, fifty-three of the last remaining leaders gathered. They met not in palaces or government halls, but in a bunker deep beneath the Alps, carved from stone that had resisted centuries of erosion and, miraculously, the firestorms of war. There, under flickering lights and the weight of history, they spoke not of conquest, but of necessity.
The first three weeks of their summit were filled with mistrust. Old enemies stared across the table at each other, their eyes still burning with suspicion. Generals who had once commanded weapons that killed millions now sat in silence, haunted by ghosts. But as days passed and rations dwindled, the realization spread like a slow dawn—there was no Earth left to fight over.
At the end of the seventh week, the decision was made. Borders were to be dissolved. Nations would no longer exist. Humanity would become one, not by choice, but by survival.
From this pact was born the Mystic Alliance.
The Forging of the Continent
The Alliance faced a monumental task: to carve out a single sanctuary on a ruined Earth. Centuries of warfare had rendered most regions uninhabitable—vast wastelands of nuclear radiation, chemical storms, and toxic winds. But there were pockets, regions spared just enough to sustain life if fortified.
Using advanced geological surveys and satellite remnants, they mapped the last viable zones. Over decades, the survivors migrated, relocating populations into a single vast landmass formed by connected and reclaimed territories. Enormous engineering projects filled oceans, drained irradiated lakes, and reconstructed mountains to create a singular body of habitable land.
Thus was born the Mystic Continent—a land forged not by conquest, but by survival and invention.
At its heart lay the Mainland, later called the Core Alliance, where the seat of governance and the greatest concentration of technology resided. Around it stretched four great regions—the Eastern, Western, Northern, and Southern Continents—together called the Inner Alliance.
Each region was divided into four great cities, each rebuilt from ruins or raised from barren ground:
• Eastern Cities: Klaus, Fed, Centini, Cuttack.
• Western Cities: Mumba, Puna, Damar, Juipar.
• Northern Cities: Himachar, Punjar, Uttary, Rajat.
• Southern Cities: Andra, Tamos, Karnos, Kerag.
Every city bore scars of the past but rose like phoenixes from ash, their towers blending nanotechnology with architecture designed to withstand even the harshest of elements.
The Wastelands
Beyond the fortified regions stretched the great reminder of war: the Wastelands. These were zones where no unprotected life could survive—lands drowned in radiation, cursed by chemical storms, and haunted by silence.
The Alliance knew humanity's survival depended on containment. And so, they built.
Colossal perimeter walls, some reaching hundreds of meters high and stretching across thousands of kilometers, were erected. These were not mere stone and steel. They were fused from tungsten, uranium, and advanced nanotechnology, interlaced with air purification systems capable of neutralizing toxins that seeped in.
To a child born within the Mystic Continent, these walls were as ancient as mountains and as sacred as temples. They symbolized both protection and warning: This is as far as you may go. Beyond lies death.
A Century of Rebuilding
The first hundred years after the war were an age of reconstruction. With old currencies meaningless and governments dismantled, a new system of order emerged.
Education was standardized globally. Technology—salvaged, reinvented, and innovated—became the backbone of society. Energy crises vanished as humanity learned to harness solar satellites, geothermal cores, and even limited radiation conversion. Poverty, once the great shadow of civilization, became a memory.
To preserve harmony, the Alliance implemented a sect-based societal system, inspired by ancient clan structures but reimagined for a global age. Each family belonged to a sect—industrial, medical, agricultural, technological, or military—ensuring every citizen contributed to the whole.
Conflict diminished, not because humanity had forgotten violence, but because it had remembered its cost.
The Legendary Families
In time, some families rose above others—not by conquest, but by their unparalleled contributions to survival and progress.
Among these were four legendary families, each becoming cornerstones of the Core Alliance:
• The Jagger Family, masters of armory, steel, medicine, and automotive technology.
• The Spark Family, pioneers of energy systems and nanotechnology.
• TheVeltonFamily, innovators in architecture and defensive engineering.
• TheCrestFamily, leaders in education, governance, and cultural preservation.
These families did not rule but were revered, their innovations ensuring humanity not only survived but thrived.
The Shadow that Remains
And yet… not all was peace.
Though poverty and hunger had vanished, though education reached every child, and though technology made life flourish, whispers lingered.
The Wastelands never shrank; they seemed to grow in silence. Radiation sometimes behaved like a living thing, spreading into patterns scientists could not predict. Strange readings were recorded at the borders—energies not nuclear, not chemical, but… other.
Historians often said: We have conquered war, but we have not conquered what war has left behind.
The Year of Awakening
By the year 2198, a new generation came of age—children who had never known hunger, who had never heard bombs falling, who had never seen a border or passport. To them, the walls were not scars but monuments. To them, the Mystic Continent was not a sanctuary—it was the whole world.
It was within this generation that Neel Jagger was born.
The son of Subrao and LakshaJagger, heirs to one of the legendary families, Neel's life symbolized the dreams of the Alliance itself: brilliance, privilege, and responsibility. At the age of twelve, he would design algorithms capable of transforming radiation into usable energy, reviving the deadliest wastelands into sources of power. His innovations would shape the future.
But before his story could begin, the story of the Mystic Continent had to be remembered—for every new dawn was only possible because of the ashes of yesterday.
And though peace had lasted for one hundred and fifty years, fate was already moving in silence, weaving storms beyond the walls, waiting for the moment when humanity would be tested again.
The Mystic Continent had been born from survival. But survival was only the beginning.