The human world had long known peace.
Ordinary people lived their days as they always had — some went hunting, others tended to the land, a few sought fortune in the crowded cities.
Five continents shaped the world, each with its own soul: the Continent of Ice, shrouded in eternal frost, where the snow was so pure it seemed one could walk upon the clouds;
the Continent of Earth, with its endless deserts and stone oases scattered by Mother Nature as a reminder that even in the most hostile places, life endures;
the Continent of Nature, where forests stretched beyond sight and creatures of every kind roamed beneath their emerald canopy; the Continent of Sky, veiled in endless rain, where mirrored waters reflected the heavens themselves.
And the White Continent: mild, silent, and mysterious.
Where whispers told of a power unknown to men.
Each land was ruled by its noble family, guardians of law, prosperity, and order.
On the surface, everything was perfect.
But beneath that perfection, darkness was already stirring, silent struggles for power, forbidden studies, hidden pacts forged for unseen conquest.
Even perfection comes at a price.
And every paradise meets its end.
******
Continent of Nature
The sky turned red.
Clouds swirled in shades of violet, and the sun vanished, swallowed by a void as black as ink.
The earth quaked. Cracks opened under trembling feet, spewing fire and dust.
"Help! My son! He's under the rubble!"
"What the hell is happening?!"
"Stay away from the tall build-!"
*Roaaaar!*
A colossal shadow tore through the clouds: a dragon of fire, its scales gleaming like molten stone, its wings slicing through the storm. Behind it, the sky itself broke — a rift like a wound in the heavens, from which countless flying beasts poured forth.
Panic spread.
On the ground, more rifts opened, vomiting goblins, orcs, and pale incorporeal shades with arms like smoke.
In moments, the green world turned crimson.
Some fled, clinging to desperate hope. Others froze. Many simply knelt, whispering:
"Is this the end…?"
It was the beginning of what history would call The First Eclipse: the cataclysm that nearly erased mankind.
But it was also the dawn of magic.
Those who survived began to awaken to superhuman new power, they began to be called magicians, the only users of the mana: the source of every spell, the weapon that could seriously wound and kill the monsters from the rifts.
Days, months, and then years of battle followed.
Sacrifice. Despair.
And at last, victory.
The final battle was fought on the White Continent, where a single man defeated the Fire Dragon.
His name was Arthur Laplace.
You remain known in the history books as the first "Magus," the peak of magic.
Yet, as the world rejoiced, he did not.
For he alone understood the price of peace.
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A/N: Hi, I'm new to this world and I actually don't know how to write down my ideas for a decent story, I hope you appreciate it anyway, happy reading <3.
Any constructive criticism is appreciated ;).
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