History is a vast tapestry, woven with events that shaped the world we live in today. Some are celebrated. Others forgotten. Many barely whispered about in passing.
Yet, among them, one stands out above all others. An occurrence so monumental that, even after seven centuries, its shadow still lingers over modern civilization.
And rightfully so. For this single event altered the very course of humanity, bridging the mortal realm with the supernatural.
It is the reason why, to this day, only soldiers bear powers beyond human comprehension while the rest of mankind remains ordinary.
This cataclysm is remembered as The Purge.
It is forever etched into the year 1287.
At the time, humanity was still young. Civilizations were far less advanced than the world we know now. Their greatest achievements were fleets of wooden ships. The idea of something as simple as a telephone was unimaginable.
Life was primitive. But it was stable.
Until the Purge began. Until the world was drowned in horror.
No preparation military, spiritual, or otherwise could have braced humanity for what came next.
They appeared suddenly. Without warning.
Humanoid abominations materialized across the globe. Not through portals. Not through any visible means of travel. But as though the very air itself had birthed them.
Thousands upon thousands emerged, spreading like a plague.
Their forms were grotesque amalgamations of beasts and nightmares. Yet they all moved with one singular intent.
There was no diplomacy in their arrival. No message. No hesitation.
The malice they radiated was unmistakable. Humanity was not to be greeted, but consumed.
And what made them more terrifying was the precision of their hunger.
These creatures did not ravage at random. They hunted with purpose. They tore open chests with unholy strength, extracting hearts still beating, and devoured them as though they were the only sustenance they craved.
The implication was chilling.
Their hunger for human hearts was not one of discovery, but of familiarity.
They knew exactly what they wanted as if their very existence revolved around this gruesome feast.
Whether they had devoured humans before, somewhere beyond the veil of history, or were created solely for this act, no one could say.
What became clear, however, was that this was no accident. No coincidence.
This was by design.
The Purge was not merely an event.
It was a revelation.
One that shattered the illusion of safety and exposed humanity to truths it could neither explain nor escape.
Humanity is not one to simply accept being preyed upon. They fought back.
Armed with steel axes, spears, and bows the finest weapons of their era they struck at the invaders with everything they had. But their efforts were meaningless. Their blades bent and broke on flesh tougher than stone. It was as though they were striking with foam.
Resistance quickly revealed the truth: humanity had no way to wound these creatures. Even if every man, woman, and child united against a single one, they could do nothing. Their enemy was untouchable.
Survival became instinct.
People abandoned their cities and villages, retreating into the depths of forests, the shadows of caves, and the heights of mountains. But hiding only delayed the inevitable. Sooner or later, they were found.
Desperation turned to prayer and sacrifice.
Livestock were burned on pyres to call upon the gods. Some offered their loved ones their partners, their children believing the gods might accept something dearer. But no answer ever came. Days became months. A full year passed in silence.
Whether gods existed at all became doubtful. If they did, they certainly refused to act.
By the dawn of 1288, humanity had been reduced to a mere five percent of its population. Not because the creatures could not end them in a day but because they chose not to. Like predators, they preserved their prey, savoring the hunt, saving their meals for another day.
Extinction loomed. Humanity had no hope. The monsters demons, devils, abominations, whatever name they were given seemed invincible.
And then, without warning, everything changed.
All at once, every creature across the globe erupted into flames. Not ordinary fire, but flames of impossible color yellow and blue, searing brighter than sunlight. The fire did not burn like natural flame. Wind could not scatter it. Water could not quench it. Nothing on Earth could extinguish it.
When the blaze was done, not even ash remained. The creatures had been erased from existence itself.
Then he appeared.
A man though to call him a man was not quite accurate. He descended from above, his form entirely wreathed in the same yellow-blue fire. No, not wreathed. He was made of it. His body was flame given shape.
It was clear: he was the one who had ended the Purge.
But his words carried no comfort.
"This is not over," he told the survivors. "These creatures will return. And unless you learn to defend yourselves, humanity will surely fall."
From among the survivors, he commanded that chosen individuals accompany him to a realm beyond their comprehension the Noosphere. There, he promised, they would gain the strength to fight back. And so they went with him.
While the chosen trained in this strange new realm, the flaming being defended Earth himself. He named the source of these horrors: Zunan, a cosmic law woven into reality.
Even if humanity grew strong, he realized, peace would remain impossible. For every battle would leave cities in ruins and nations scarred. So he conceived of a solution no mortal could imagine.
He created an entire new universe.
It was identical to this one, but empty, devoid of any sentient life. Then he gave a commandment, a law above laws: the creatures of Zunan would now manifest in that new universe instead of Earth.
Yet there was a catch.
If a creature survived forty-eight hours in that world, it would bleed back into this one. To prevent this, humanity would need to hunt and destroy them in that mirror universe before the time limit expired.
Thus, when the chosen returned from the Noosphere, they were transformed. Their bodies had been reforged with strength, speed, and abilities beyond mortal comprehension. For the first time, humanity stood a fighting chance.
The flaming being explained a little more. He warned that Zunan could not be undone. It had fused with reality itself. To unravel it would unravel existence. As for who or what created Zunan, he left unanswered. Whether he himself did not know, or whether the truth was too dangerous to reveal, no one could say.
And then, as suddenly as he had appeared, he was gone. Never to be seen again.
In his absence, nations forged a pact: only soldiers would be allowed to wield these powers, to maintain order and prevent chaos. Humanity rebuilt, slowly advancing in technology and society. Cities rose again. Life found rhythm.
But the war never ended.
The demons still emerged in the other universe, and soldiers still crossed over to destroy them. The endless struggle became routine, almost forgotten by ordinary people.
Yet questions remained. Who was the flaming being? Where did he go? Was this account truly history or had centuries twisted the truth? And if the creatures of Zunan never stopped appearing, what purpose did they serve?
Most never expected answers.
But answers, as history would prove, were far closer than anyone dared to imagine.