Dawn of Legends

And it came to pass, in the hearts of the mortals, where faith once gave birth to divine beings of great power, that a new kind of creation arose—one born not from purity, but from the dark recesses of corrupted belief. The mortals, in their despair, in their anger and hatred, began to call upon the heavens once more. But this time, their cries were not for light, nor for guidance, but for power, for dominion, for revenge. And from the depths of their corrupted faith, the Demon Kings were born.

They were not like the Gods—righteous and benevolent. These beings, birthed from the wrath and sorrow of mortals, were twisted, their power laced with darkness. They were the embodiment of destruction, born to bring ruin upon the lands. Their forms were vast, their strength immeasurable, and their desires endless. The very essence of their being was to destroy, to conquer, to rule over all. And thus, they became the scourge of the West.

The mortals, who had once given them life, now recoiled in terror as they saw the shape of the Demon Kings, who had once been their gods. They were now enemies, bringing destruction to the lands they had once protected. The Demon Kings ravaged the cities and kingdoms, burning fields, slaying innocents, and tearing apart the lives of those who had once worshiped them.

And it was in the wake of this destruction that the Gods of the West, the very beings born of mortal faith, took up arms against the Demon Kings. They had once been protectors, but now they were warriors, fighting against those who had once shared in their divine heritage. The mortals, those who still held faith in the Gods, gathered with them, and together, they formed an alliance to oppose the rising tide of darkness.

But not all the Gods stood united in this cause. Among them, a few turned away from their fellow deities. These Gods, once noble and pure, had fallen into temptation. They saw the power of the Demon Kings and were seduced by the promise of dominion over all. They betrayed their brothers and sisters and allied themselves with the Demon Kings, drawn to the power that lay in the shadows. These traitors were named the Fallen.

And so, the West was torn asunder, for the Gods and the Fallen waged war against one another, their clash sending ripples across the lands. Cities crumbled beneath their feet, mountains trembled as if alive, and the very earth itself cried out in pain. But the war was not limited to the West alone. For the Demon Kings, with their newfound allies, sought to extend their reign beyond the West, turning their gaze eastward, towards the lands of the Immortals.

The Immortals, who had long stood apart from the conflicts of the Gods, now found themselves drawn into the struggle. From the edge of the East, where the sun first rose, they watched the chaos unfold, their eyes fixed on the creeping corruption that sought to spread like a plague. They knew that their duty was to protect their land, their people, and their way of life. But they also knew that to intervene would draw them into the war, and to do so would mean sacrificing the peace they had long preserved.

And so, the Immortals stood watch, their strength guarding the borders of their lands, ensuring that the corruption of the West would not spread into the East. Yet, even in the safety of their lands, they were not without enemies. For the Fallen Gods, now in the service of the Demon Kings, sent their agents into the East, spreading fear and discord. The Immortals were forced to battle these dark forces, keeping the corruption at bay, while the rest of the world burned.

And thus, the first great war was upon them. The battle between the Gods and the Demon Kings, the struggle between the Immortals and the forces of darkness, stretched on for centuries. The war, fought across the West and the East, ravaged the world. The skies were darkened by the clash of armies, the heavens themselves seemed to tremble as the forces of good and evil collided.

The Architect, watching from the silent distance, did not interfere. He had set the world into motion, and now He watched as His creation followed its own course. He did not seek to change the fate of the Gods, the Demon Kings, or the Immortals. For He knew that the struggle they faced was one of their own making. His role was not to intervene, but to watch, to see how the world He had created would unfold.

Among those who suffered most in the war was Yggdrasil, the great guardian of the world. Born from the roots of the earth, Yggdrasil had long stood as the protector of the lands, its branches reaching far and wide, sheltering the people beneath it. But now, in the midst of the war, Yggdrasil felt the strain of its duty. The pain of the battle, the destruction that ravaged the world, caused it great suffering. But despite this, Yggdrasil endured. It continued to shelter the people, to protect the lands, and to stand as a symbol of hope in the darkest of times.

As the years stretched on, and the war seemed to last for an eternity, the world began to change. The lands of the West were scarred, and the East was on the brink of collapse. The Gods fought valiantly, but the power of the Demon Kings and the Fallen proved overwhelming. The Immortals, though strong, could not stand alone against the tide of darkness.

After nearly one thousand and seven hundred years of war, the Demon Kings were finally sealed away, their reign of terror brought to an end. The Gods, battered and broken, retreated to the shadows, their power greatly diminished. The Fallen Gods, those who had betrayed their kin, vanished into the darkness, waiting for a time when a new Demon King would rise, and their influence would return.

And in the aftermath of the great war, the world was left in ruins. The people of the land, once so full of life and hope, now struggled to rebuild what had been lost. The Gods had been defeated, the Demon Kings sealed, and the Immortals had retreated into the shadows, their role in the world now uncertain.

But even in the darkest of times, hope remained. For in the ashes of the war, a new hero was born. A mortal, untouched by the corruption that had once tainted the world, a being whose heart was pure and whose destiny was yet unknown. This hero would rise to face the darkness once more, to protect the world from the forces that sought to destroy it.

And thus, the cycle would begin again. For the world, though scarred and broken, was not yet lost. There would always be a light, no matter how faint, to guide the way forward. And in the hearts of the mortals, a new hope would be kindled, for they knew that even in the face of destruction, a hero would arise.