Before crowns gleamed beneath banners and blades carved borders into the earth—Before heroes rose and Demon Kings fell—The world existed in delicate silence.
Not peace.
Not joy.
Balance.
A quiet, fragile harmony hummed through creation, held together not by laws, but by the whispered rhythm of wind and shadow.
In that beginning, the world was not one.It was three.
The Three Realms
The Spirit World — an eternal sky veined with glowing rivers of mana, where crystal trees sang in lightless forests and the dead drifted like embers on starlit tides. A place of stillness and memory, untouched by time.
The Human Realm — ever-burning with life, chaos, and ambition. Where empires rose from mud, mortals tamed flame and metal, and dreams clawed over each other toward the sun.
The Demon Realm — wild, raw, and untamed. A storm of living mana and impossible creatures. Logic died here. Hunger thrived. Laws were optional.
Connecting them were unseen rivers of power—ley-lines—threading all of existence like veins in a divine body. And where those threads converged, five ancient structures stood:
The Gates of Passage.
Each was a monument, a seal, and a bridge. And each was bound to a being not born, but made—guardians crafted from magic itself.
The Five Elemental Guardians
North — Miku, the Ice Dragon of Polar Seals. Her breath could freeze even thought.
East — Kaelis, the Flame Phoenix of Dawn. His wings lit the morning sky ablaze.
West — Thalor, the Stone Serpent of Shadows. He whispered lost truths beneath obsidian mountains.
South — Sylvaine, the Verdant Stag of Renewal. His hooves stirred forests into life.
Center — Varethos, the Void Guardian of Judgment. Neither beast nor spirit, but an eternal watcher, bound to the center where all mana met.
They were not chosen.They were the Gates themselves, shaped by the world's will to guard its harmony.
But even they bowed before three greater beings.
Not gods.Not rulers.
Primordials.
The Three Primordials
Lysandra Vael, the Spirit Queen — cloaked in starlight, her voice could calm death itself. She wove souls and guided fate with grace older than the moon.
Varethos, Judge Eternal — also guardian of the Central Gate. Cold, unshifting, absolute. When Lysandra wove the world's melody, he kept it in tune.
And Jae.
The youngest.
The wildest.
The spark that made it all move.
The First Demon King
Jae was brilliance in motion. He laughed like lightning and thought like storms.
Where Lysandra preserved and Varethos corrected…Jae created.
He gave shape to chaos. He turned raw magic into structure, theory, and language. He created spells, circles, casting techniques, and the schools of mana mortals still use today.
He shared it all.
With humans, elves, beastfolk, even the howling shadows of the Demon Realm.
He taught them how to dream.
And for a time, the world bloomed.
Until It Burned
Magic, once shared, became fuel for conquest.
Humans turned spells into artillery.
Elves bound spirits to power cities.
Mana was mined, harvested, enslaved.
Wars spread like wildfire. Ley-lines bled.
Even time trembled.
And Jae—who had once gifted the world light—watched it consume itself in flame.
So he stood before the Silent Council, where the three Primordials gathered.
"If I stay," he said, eyes heavy, "the world won't heal."
Lysandra, sorrow in her voice, asked:
"And if you go?"
"Then maybe… it can start again."
They agreed.
Lysandra would create the Rebirth Lattice, to anchor Jae's soul until the time was right.
Varethos would forge the Time Cocoon, a sealed vessel beyond reach, hidden deep in the folds of the Spirit World.
And Jae…
…would fall.
Not to time.
Not to disease.
But to mortals.
By design.
By his own will.
"Let them believe they won," he said. "Let them think peace was earned."
"When the world forgets what it once feared… I'll return."
But one condition remained:
"Miku must never know."
"She'll try to stop me… or worse, follow."
And So, It Began
A final masquerade.
A death that was not death.
A sacrifice that was not surrender.
A seed buried in the heart of time.
And somewhere beyond the stars, in the frozen hush of fate's breath—
The world held still.
Waiting.