Long before kingdoms had names, before swords were forged or crowns were worn, the skies of the Samuel Continent belonged to dragons.
Born from the heart of creation, they were the first sovereigns of the world—immortal, radiant, and merciless. Their wings cast shadows over mountains, their roars shaped storms, and their fire carved rivers of molten stone.
For thousands of years, dragons ruled every land, every race, every breath that dared to rise beneath them. They saw themselves as gods—and perhaps, they were.
Mankind, in those early ages, were nothing more than frail creatures crawling beneath the ashes of dragonkind. Their bones broke easily, their lives ended swiftly, and their prayers vanished beneath the roar of draconic thunder. Yet in that weakness, something awakened—a hunger, a will, an unyielding spark to survive.
While dragons hoarded power, humans learned.
They learned to shape steel from ore, to weave runes from stars, and to turn their short lives into weapons sharper than dragon claws. They studied the enemy that ruled them, watched how they flew, breathed, and bled. Each generation built upon the scars of the last, until knowledge itself became their weapon.
Thus began the Thirty-Year War, when men dared to challenge the heavens.
At first, humanity was slaughtered—cities burned, armies turned to ash. But they adapted. With every defeat, they grew stronger, swifter, more cunning. Dragons ruled with might; humans rose with evolution.
And from the chaos of blood and smoke, a single warrior rose who would change history forever.
He was called Leon Cosmodeous, the Man in Black Armor.
A child of no noble blood, a survivor of dragon fire, he became the Empire's greatest weapon. He learned the ancient arts forbidden to mortals, and within his soul awoke the storm itself.
When Leon entered battle, thunder followed.
The sky screamed with Chidori, the Thousand Birds, lightning that split the heavens and sang like ten thousand cries of vengeance. Dragons who once mocked humanity fell silent when they heard that sound. Even the Dragon Kings, ancient and proud, trembled at its echo.
Under his command, the Dragon Slaying Army carved its path through the age of fire. Temples fell, skies burned, and for the first time in millennia, dragons began to fear the ground they once ruled.
But every legend has its shadow.
When the war reached its final chapter, Leon led his army to the Silver Dragon Temple, home of the last and purest dragon line. His mission: to slay the Silver Queen, Rossweise Melkvey, the radiant ruler who commanded storms of her own.
Yet before he reached the temple's heart, betrayal struck. A blade from the shadows—one of his own—pierced his chest. His army scattered, crushed by dragons who had been forewarned. Leon was captured, bound in enchanted chains deep beneath the temple, while the Silver Queen celebrated her divine victory.