Throughout human history, perhaps the most consistent phenomenon across all civilizations has been war. There has never been a true era of peace in this world; if one ever existed, it has long since vanished from human records.
For five thousand years, the two greatest nations on the planet, the Levimus Empire and the Leviathan Empire, have been locked in a relentless conflict. While historical documents provide this staggering number, the precise moment the war began has been lost to time. In all those millennia, there has never been a ceasefire, nor a moment for diplomacy. When the intensity of combat occasionally lessened, it was only because the sheer number of deaths had exhausted the available manpower—never because of peace.
Initially, neither the rest of the human world nor other races could comprehend the hatred fueling the endless war between the two empires. However, as centuries passed, this conflict became a grim fact of life—an almost natural state of being. Generations grew up knowing nothing but enmity toward the other side, inheriting a hatred as familiar as their own names. With these two colossal powers dominating the world, no other nation was strong enough to mediate or intervene. The war, seemingly eternal, became an unavoidable truth.
Since the war's beginning, the strength of the two empires remained in balance—until approximately 400 years ago. At that time, an unprecedented battle erupted, the largest in recorded history. Both empires unleashed their most powerful magical forces, resulting in a bloodbath that stained the annals of history. The conflict ended when the Emperor of Levimus defeated and killed the Emperor of Leviathan. This devastating loss shattered the balance between the two empires, forcing the Leviathan Empire into retreat and leading to the seizure of part of its territories by Levimus. In the centuries that followed, the Levimus Empire exploited the weakened Leviathan relentlessly, fueling even deeper hatred between them.
This battle became known as the "Holy War" within the Levimus Empire—a name that glorified their victory. To the rest of the world, however, it was remembered as the "Calamity War," a conflict that brought devastation on an unimaginable scale.
White—completely white. Perhaps that would be the only description someone could offer when faced with this desolate landscape, assuming they could withstand the brutal conditions long enough to utter a single word or draw a single breath. This place, once teeming with life, blessed with bountiful harvests and a serene, temperate climate, is now frozen solid. Even the wind, it seems, dares not disturb the stillness that reigns here.
Some associate death with darkness—perhaps because of the fear of the unknown, of what cannot be seen. But if there were a better embodiment of death, it would be this sight. For even in darkness, life can linger. Here, however, there is nothing—no movement, no warmth, no hope. The true color of this place isn't white; it is death.
Amid this lifeless expanse stands a lone figure. Draped in black from head to toe, with hair and eyes to match, the figure presents a striking contrast against the endless white. As though untouched by the biting cold, the figure moves with casual ease, as if out for a leisurely walk.
His gaze sweeps across the field that, until not long ago, teemed with millions of soldiers—now all lifeless, buried beneath the snow. With a heavy expression, a mixture of guilt and sorrow, he surveys the death surrounding him—death brought about by his own hands.