The world was known as Axiom Nullara.
It was not a land of justice, nor one of mercy. It was a world where survival itself was proof of worth, and power was the only language spoken fluently by gods and mortals alike. Here, the Rule of the Jungle was not an idea—it was an absolute.
Every race understood it.
Humans. Demons. Elves. Dwarves. Beasts born of myth and horrors without names. All clawed for dominance beneath an unforgiving sky. For a time, humanity stood at the summit. Gifted with intelligence and ambition, they rose faster than the rest—and in doing so, dragged the world out of balance.
They enslaved other races.
They exploited their own.
They called it progress.
As power accumulated, so did corruption. Humanity fractured itself into hierarchies built on blood, fear, and convenience. Those without strength were tools. Those without value were discarded. And still, the heavens remained silent.
Until the scales tipped too far.
The Gods did not intervene out of compassion. They intervened because the system sustaining the world began to fail.
From judgment was born a new divinity.
Sion De Mechalin—the God of Systems.
He did not rule through faith or prophecy. He ruled through structure.
Upon his creation, every living being in Axiom Nullara was marked with a System—a mechanism bound to the soul itself. It observed. It recorded. It evaluated. Growth was no longer arbitrary; power would now be shaped by action, intent, and consequence.
Abilities—later called skills—emerged through repetition, risk, and survival. Those who refined their craft saw their power evolve. Those who stagnated were left behind. The System did not care for morality. It rewarded only alignment and efficiency.
To maintain balance, the System recognized roles formed through labor and necessity. Not as destinies, but as reflections of how one lived. Even the simplest work—crafting, healing, killing—could become a path to strength.
Yet order came at a cost.
The world did not become kinder.
It became clearer.
Those who adapted flourished.
Those who failed were erased.
Levels, ranks, and classifications arose as crude attempts by mortals to measure power—but the System itself acknowledged only one truth:
Everything evolves.
Everything has a price.
And in this world—where gods observed, Systems judged, and weakness was a crime—a soul that did not belong was about to be reborn.
Not as a savior.
But as a variable.