I, Altherion Solis, write this with an aged hand, but with a memory that remains as sharp as when I first raised a sword. You know me as the First King of Light, the unifier of worlds, but you do not know the truth behind that light.
In my youth, the world was still simple. War was waged with swords, bows, slow, crude cannons, and fragile sailing ships.
Knowledge is scattered, hindered by language and national borders. The priests rejected the new ideas, and the scholars were suspicious of each other.
But that night, when the monastery where I lived was consumed by fire, everything changed. The fire blocked all exits, but I didn't scream. I just stared at him—until the pattern emerged. A cracked circle with intersecting spirals and falling embers forming small stars around its edges. I reached out my hand, and the fire obeyed. I came out unscathed. The monks called it a miracle, but I knew it was something older than prayer.
I kept it to myself until I joined the military as an adult. In the first battlefield, when our forces were pushed back, I once again called upon the symbol. Fire held back the rain of arrows, and the wall of light protected my soldiers. That victory made my name known.
A great general heard him and then gave me my own troops. With that, my steps grew larger: I won battle after battle, not just with magic, but with tactics. My soldiers believe our enemies are starting to tremble.
But I see decay above. The king and nobles only cared about gold, leaving the people to starve. I'm fed up. So I defected. My troops followed me, and the people of the country welcomed me. I am not considered a traitor but a savior.
From one country, I subdued another. Some I conquered with the sword; others surrendered because their people had already called my name. Year after year passed, until the continent knew only one ruler: me.
But my ambition didn't stop. I sought out rumors of foreign lands across the ocean and found them to be true. I set sail with the best sailing ships, guided by compasses refined by scientists. The ocean that was once considered endless, I finally crossed. Continent after continent, I subdued them with war, diplomacy, and terror from the light that only I command.
No country stands alone anymore. This world, entirely, bows down under the name of Solis.
But I know true victory isn't just won with a sword. History is a sharper weapon. So I commanded that every old record be burned and every language other than Lingua Solis be erased. From deserts to forests, from mountains to islands, everyone is forced to say the same words, write the same letters, and think with the same foundation.
I destroy the past so that there is only one present. I extinguish thousands of stories so that there is only one truth. My truth.
History begins anew with me, and only with me.
And now, at the end of my life, I know: the world will forget who they truly are. But they will never be able to forget me.
I am the first light. And I am also the first shadow that engulfs the entire world.
_
Altherion Solis lived to be one hundred and twenty-four years old. At the age of one hundred, he managed to conquer the entire world; twenty-four years later, he was still ruling without anyone daring to oppose him. His face remained that of a forty-year-old man, his voice was strong, and his eyes were bright, as if time itself was reluctant to touch him. The people called him a prophet, and some even believed he was a messenger of God.However, in the end, he died not on the battlefield but in his bed, consumed by a disease that could not be subdued by light.
157 years after his death, the Solis Empire still endures—led by his chosen people. But loyalty is fragile; betrayal and ambition destroy unity. The empire collapsed from within, leaving the world without a master.
60 years after the collapse, humanity lives scattered in small kingdoms. They all spoke in Lingua Solis, as if it had been humanity's native language from the beginning, even though no one knew its origins. The old history remains buried; all that's left is mist, rumors, and myths.
And in that world, a child was born—not a nobleman, not a descendant of kings, just a village boy atop the ruins of an old imperial tower. No one expected that, behind his simplicity, he would find something that could disturb the legacy of the First Light.