Don't forget to add this to your library!
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The war did not end with a sigh of relief, but with the planet's shuddering gasp. Michelangelo's final act wasn't just a sealing; it was a detonation of life force. An astronomical amount of raw mana, the very stuff of creation, was now unleashed from his sacrifice. It flooded the world, not as a gentle tide, but as a tidal wave, crashing over the scarred landscapes and sinking into the wounded bedrock of Titus.
The world, already broken, began to change.
This new energy was wild and untamed. It saturated the air, the water, the soil. The planet's ecosystem, starved and brutalized by a century of demonic corruption and divine warfare, drank it in greedily. In some places, the mana pooled, forming vast, invisible reservoirs of power. These areas, later known as Grand Magic Zones, became places of wonder and terror. Mountains there floated in the sky, rivers flowed backward, and the trees grew crystalline leaves that chimed in the wind.
The creatures of Titus changed, too. Animals, exposed to the raw mana, began to mutate. Great, six-legged wolves with hides like stone hunted in the new forests. Eagles with wingspans wider than houses soared through the altered skies. But the most significant change happened to the survivors of humanity.
Their bodies absorbed the energy. For most, it was a subtle shift, an awakening of a sixth sense for the power that now flowed through everything. For others, the transformation was dramatic. In the deep forests, some grew tall and slender, their ears tapering to elegant points and their connection to the natural mana becoming as easy as breathing. They became the Elves. In the stony hearts of the mountains, others became stout and strong, their bodies hardy and their affinity for the earth and its treasures unmatched. They became the Dwarfs. And in the most volatile of the magic zones, a few were reshaped entirely, their forms becoming scaled and immense, their breath a torrent of elemental power. The first Dragons were born, not as beasts, but as beings of immense wisdom and magical might.
Even the souls of the dead were not spared. The countless spirits lost in the war, like the Angel, Devil, and Human, were drawn together by the swirling currents of mana. They merged into four immense, sentient beings of pure energy: a Sylph of the wind, a Salamander of the flame, an Undine of the water, and a Gnome of the earth. These Great Elemental Spirits, ancient and powerful from the moment of their birth, hid themselves away, waiting for mortals worthy of their power.
Time passed. The raw, chaotic energy began to settle, integrating itself into the planet's natural cycles. The world was now fundamentally different. The old maps were useless. Of the dozen continents that had once dotted the globe, only two remained.
The larger of the two was a sprawling landmass, its center a chaotic wasteland of magical radiation left over from the final battles. The human survivors, their memories of the past wiped clean, huddled together on the continent's four distinct edges. In the cold, jagged mountains of the north, in the lush, green forests of the west, in the arid, windswept badlands of the east, and in the temperate, resource-rich lands of the south, four great tribes began their slow climb back from oblivion. On the smaller continent, a single, unified tribe formed, isolated by the vast ocean. They did not even have a name for their world anymore. They were simply… the people. Progress was reset. They were starting from scratch.
Ten years after the war's end, the world finally found its new equilibrium. The mana was no longer a flood, but a steady, flowing river. And with this stability came a discovery. The children born in this new world were different. They could touch the river of mana. They could influence it. They could mold it.
It started with little things. A child, crying in frustration, would cause pebbles to float around him. Another, laughing with joy, would make flowers bloom out of season. They all had it, this ability to use magic, and each one's was unique.
Then came the grimoires.
On a child's fifteenth birthday, a book would appear. It wasn't summoned or created; a random, mundane book from a nearby shelf would suddenly flare with light, syncing with the child's soul and mana. Its blank pages would fill with spells only they could read, its cover embossing itself with a unique symbol. It became a part of them. Once they understood this process, the tribes built great libraries, halls filled with countless blank books, waiting for the day of awakening.
Generations passed. The tribes grew into towns, the towns into cities, the cities into kingdoms. The four tribes on the main continent eventually became four distinct nations.
In the north, the people of the mountains founded the Spade Kingdom. It was a harsh, cold land that bred hard, pragmatic people. Theirs became the largest and most powerful of the kingdoms, their magic often reflecting the ice and shadow of their homeland.
To the west, in the lush lands fed by a powerful, nation-spanning Mana Zone, the Heart Kingdom rose. It was a place of vibrant green and flowing water, ruled by a line of princesses who communed with the Water Spirit, Undine. Their mages practiced the Mana Method, a unique art of drawing on the immense natural power around them to fuel their spells, making them the second strongest nation, and by far the most peaceful.
To the east, the Diamond Kingdom was forged in the wastelands. It was a land of mountains and mines, with scarce fertile land for crops. This lack of resources made them aggressive and militaristic, constantly looking at their neighbors' lands with envy. They were considered the weakest of the four.
And in the south, the Clover Kingdom was established. It was a land of varied geography. Rolling hills, deep forests, and a central mountainous region. It was rich in resources, and its people were diverse and determined. Their military strength was slightly above that of the Diamond Kingdom, but they were often on the defensive.
As the new world aged, its people began to dig. They built mines, excavated foundations for new cities, and explored ancient ruins. And in the deep places of the earth, they found things. Artifacts of impossible technology, stone tablets covered in a forgotten language, and books that spoke of a time when beings called Devils were worshipped as gods.
The Pandora's Box of their forgotten history had been cracked open.
Most kingdoms dismissed the findings as mythology, fairy tales of a barbaric past. But some saw opportunity. In the Spade Kingdom, a secret faction of mages began to study these dark arts, learning the forbidden grammar of devil summoning. They saw it as a path to absolute power, a way to ensure their kingdom's dominance forever.
The Clover Kingdom was not so fortunate. Their brush with this ancient evil was not one of study, but of tragedy. A high-ranking devil, Zagred, was summoned. The event led to a terrible conflict that ended with the brutal slaughter of the Elven race and the death of the kingdom's first and most beloved Wizard King, Lemiel Silvamillion. It was a wound from which the Clover Kingdom never truly recovered.
Seeing their rival weakened, the resource-starved Diamond Kingdom launched a full-scale invasion. The war that followed was a brutal, grinding affair. The Clover Kingdom, still reeling from the loss of its Wizard King and its strongest mages, could not land a decisive blow. The Diamond Kingdom, desperate for fertile land, refused to back down. For years, the war has been a bloody stalemate, a constant drain on the Clover Kingdom's resources and morale, preventing them from ever fully healing.
This brings us to the present.
The Clover Kingdom was being poured by the sky. For a week, a storm that felt more like a hurricane had raged, turning roads to mud and flooding entire towns. The mood in the kingdom was as dark as the clouds overhead.
In the Noble Realm, the storm's roar was a constant backdrop to the screams coming from the Kira estate. Inside, Lady Seraphiel Kira, wife of the King's own brother, was in the throes of labor. Her husband, Roderic Kira, paced outside the door, his face a mask of anxiety. He was a man used to the orderly world of politics and royal duty; this raw, uncontrollable event was fraying his nerves.
Hours passed. The screams continued, each one sharper than the last. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, a new sound cut through the storm: the sharp, clear cry of a newborn.
Roderic burst into the room. Seraphiel lay back on the bed, exhausted but beaming, holding a small bundle. He was a boy with hair the color of the golden Sun, even his eyes, when they blinked open, shone with the same radiant shade.
And in that exact moment, something impossible happened.
Outside, the suffocating black clouds directly above the Kira estate tore open. A perfect, circular beam of sunlight broke through the raging storm, shining down and bathing the entire estate in a warm, golden light. It was as if the heavens themselves had paused their fury to bless the child who had just entered the world.
And thus, it began. The story of a man who would one day take this broken, warring world and guide it toward a future it had long since forgotten.
The story of Michael Kira.
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SO! How is the start? Did not see that coming right? Let me know how you liked it in the comments. And BUT THE POWERSTONES IN THE BAG RIGHT NOW!!
Hope you would like it.
Plus I got +3 early access chapters for it up on my P@treon. If you dont want to pay you can be a free member and get a sneak at the upcoming chapters.
This link is below
https://[email protected]/cw/Joe_Mama24
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