The Law of Intention, also known as the cursed spell, is a powerful magic that transformed the entire world. What was once a decent story spiraled into chaos, destruction, and war. The desire to become the greatest consumed every mortal. It is normal for mortals to have the ambition to ascend and improve, but the Law of Intention twisted these desires into their worst possible forms. To achieve their goals, mortals became capable of anything—they could kill, destroy, and become the worst beings imaginable. As a result, countless wars erupted across the world, and everyone became consumed by their intense drive to dominate and become the strongest. Morality and kindness faded into nothing more than distant dreams.
The Law of Intention—an chaotic spell, a desire-born spell that alters the very fabric of mortal existence. This is no spell of healing nor harmony; it is a crucible of hunger, a sacred curse that guides mortals toward their darkest futures. Through it, they do not reach the divine world, but the abyss—their worst possible selves, adorned selfishness and hate.
Each mortal soul granted choices to follow different paths, yet they run toward the twisted one. They hunger endlessly, devouring without ending, never conclude. But is it truly the Law of Intention that births their cruelty? No, it merely amplifies what was already rooted in their hearts. Desire is the fire, and this law, the wind that fans it. Mortals have ever been selfish & cruel, not out of malice alone, but out of fear, out of longing, out of the illusion of separation.
From the beginning of time, they have warred within themselves. They yearn to build, and just as easily, to destroy. They seek everything—regardless of cost, regardless of the shivering echoes of consequence. Paradox defines them: mighty yet trembling, brilliant yet broken. And so one must ask—what lies behind this fragile paradox?
A sovereign of the upper realms once spoke up something:
"Flesh-bound and hollow, mortals drift like cursed vampires—alive, but never truly living."
Indeed, they are kin to vampires, but not in form—in spirit. They feed not on blood alone, but on each other's light, each other's hope. Destructive and terrifying, yet strangely tender for some moments, for some people that they love. For the ones they cherish, they become soft—adorable and the most gentle person in the world.
The sovereign, a collector of stories, believed every mortal carried a tale. Some carry joy, love, the story of sunrise. Others carry tales heavy with sorrow and unmet desire. Yet all, no matter how rich or tragic, shared one truth: none were ever enough. Mortals always yearn for more—more feeling, more knowing, more mystery that's hidden under the beneath of unknown. They chase the unknown like the way a hungry lion chase after it's food. They long to taste pineapple with apple, not because it's sweet —but because it's holding the unknown. The unknown is their addiction, their religion.
For above all, mortals seek joy. They crave the forgetting of pain, the erasure of ancient wounds carved into the soul. They wish to write a future untouched by the shadows of their past—where sorrow is fiction and regret is nothing more than a myth. But such future of like perfection remains an illusion.
Once, long ago—before time, concepts, laws and even nothingness yet to exist—there was a story written by a certain entity. This being existed alone, surrounded by nothing but silence. Out of its imagination and loneliness, it created a story. The story was incomplete, yet it marked the beginning of something new—an era of stories.
From within that first tale, mortals came into existence. And with them came thoughts, emotions, and desires. These beings were not content with the world as it was. They wanted more—more control, more meaning, more creation. They began to imagine their own stories, shaped by their personal hopes and dreams.
Driven by this desire, they unknowingly set the foundation for endless creation. One by one, each mortal dreamed, and through their imagination, new stories began to form—countless, endless, each shaped by a different heart and mind. And so, the age of infinite stories began.
What is a story?
A story is a fragment of eternity—a shard of the soul that slips through the cracks of time, carrying with it the laughter, the sorrow, the dreams, and the despair of those who dared to live.
Stories are not born from nothing. They are born from everything. From whispered prayers in the silence of the night, from the tremble of hands that have lost too much, from the radiant eyes of a child discovering the world for the first time. They are born when the heart can no longer carry its weight alone, and so it's end up turning into words, into stories. Some stories are soft and full of light, filled with joy that dances inside our heart and provides us endless joy. Others are carved into silence, heavy and cold, and sorrow that's hidden beneath countless peoples past, as a tale. And yet, all stories—whether bright or dark—hold truth. They are not illusions, not lies, not some meaningless dreams that suppose to be forgotten. They are the pulse of the universe, the voice of creation itself speaking in every tongue, every form. There are stories of parents who loved so fiercely that the entire universe remembered their names. Of children who wandered into the unknown, chasing shadows and finding light. Of warriors who fought not for glory, but for peace. Of queens who ruled with mercy, and kings who run toward their pride. There are stories of friendships that are strong enough to keep their strength up till their death. And there are stories of hatred, deep, bitter, and heart breaking. And then, there are the quiet stories. The ones no one sings of. A broken servant whispering his regrets into the dark. A forgotten lover gazing toward the moon, still hoping for someone's return. A stranger giving bread to a beggar with no name with his heart full of kindness. Each story, no matter how small or vast, is a world. A world built from memory, emotion, imagination, and truth of a person. Some are stained with sadness so deep it drowns the soul, while others offer a piece of beauty that feels too pure for this earth. And still, we listen.
Why?
Because in every story, there is a piece of us. We may not be the hero, nor the villain. We may be the meaningless whisper in the background, the useless gap between the lines. But we are there, as a part of the story. Stories remind us that we are not alone in our hunger for meaning. That others have stood where we stand, that others have loved, lost, hoped, and fallen. And when we forget who we are, it is in the stories where we find ourselves again, find the reason of our future movement, our paths that we should follow in. The world is made of stories. They are older than time, older than anything. They float through the air we breathe, hide in the eyes of strangers, inside a tree, in the sky and in every single part of the world. They are in the laughter of children, in the rage of storms, in the silence between worlds. Some say stories shape the world. But perhaps it is the other way around, perhaps the world is the story. A never-ending tale of chaos and hidden happiness of mortals that dancing in front of their fate, waiting for their fate to build or destroy them. Some stories runs in joy, others in sorrow—showing us the stories of countless mortals who're trying to reach their goal and desire with everything they had.
But amidst all this destruction, someone existed who was different.
Who is he? A question, a mystery, and an enigma. A mortal unlike any other—a mortal without a will of his own, a mortal who is essentially a servant, the strangest being in existence. Long ago, he was a warrior, existing only to destroy and devour everything in his path. The concept of protection meant nothing to him. Mortals' purpose is to destroy others to protect themselves, but what is the purpose of this strange mortal? Why does he destroy without reason?
He was a servant, bound to obey his master's commands. He could kill enemies, allies, or even destroy creation itself if ordered to do so. Why did he follow his master's will instead of his own? What made him a mortal without will or emotion? What was the reason behind his existence?
A person's mentality is shaped by both their own will and the influences of society. But in the case of this strange mortal, he had no will of his own. He failed to understand the value of his existence, and he couldn't act according to his desires—perhaps because he never had any desires.
He have witnessed nothing but war and destruction since his birth. These endless wars and chaos had shaped his entire mentality. Instead of developing an independent will, he came to believe that he existed solely to carry out orders and fulfill his master's commands. From that moment on, he became the ultimate weapon of war—a being who destroys whatever he is told to destroy.
Over time, with someone's influence and order, question began to surface in his mind: Why do wars and destruction exist? What is the purpose behind it all? Why is everyone so selfish? Why am I different from them? Why do they desire more and more?
He settled on a singular mission: to discover the reason behind the world's chaos, the endless wars, and the destruction. Since then, this became his ultimate goal and order, an order given by a certain person.
Raizel, the adopted son of Rionel and Rinia, was an extraordinarily intelligent boy. He mastered every type of magic spell in a remarkably short time, and his talents became well-known across the realm.
At seventeen, he enrolled at Zeldia Magic Academy, where he found allies who would aid him in his quest.
Now, his journey begins along with his allies and comrades.
In their journey, they will walk through endless storms—conflicts that scar the soul, suffering that quietly build their new form, shape them for one more time.
They will uncover contradictions buried in their past, truths once ignored, and emotions they failed to value. They will come to know the love of comrades, and the pain of losing them. They lose something that they had, they'll gain something that they never had. Sometimes, they'll be happy and sometimes, their heart will be filled with sadness and sorrow.
And at the end, they will arrive—not at salvation, but at a destination hidden in shadows. A place they once used to be in. What they achieved was never the end— only a reflection of what they had in the hidden past.
Will they become the key to the world's salvation—or its ultimate destruction?