The threads of fate, spun by unseen hands across realities, are rarely neat. They tangle, they break, and sometimes, in their unraveling, they ensnare the most unlikely souls. For centuries, the fragile peace of Aethelgard had been maintained by ancient pacts and the grim, ever-present threat of Demon Lord Valerius. Kings and queens, arch-mages and forge-lords, all knew the delicate balance. They ruled over kingdoms built on trade, agriculture, craftsmanship, and the wild hunt, their magic a fundamental force in their lives. Prophecies spoke of heroes, summoned from beyond the veil, destined to aid in the darkest hour. But prophecies, like magic, are often imprecise.
In the Human Kingdom of Veridian, nestled amidst the bustling markets of the capital city of Veridia, the Grand Royal Summoning Circle pulsed with an energy that spoke of desperate hope. King Theron had authorized the ritual, a costly and dangerous gamble, to call forth three champions. His daughter, Princess Seraphina, a prodigy of three magics, lent her formidable power to the arcane weave, her emerald eyes fixed on the shimmering portal. The air crackled, the stone groaned, and a blinding light erupted, signaling success.
Three figures materialized, radiating distinct auras of power: the sturdy dwarf, Borin Stonefist, the graceful elf, Elara Whisperwind, and the steadfast human knight, Sir Gareth Ironclad. They were the chosen, the prophesied saviors.
But as the light dimmed, a faint, almost unheard ripple spread through the very fabric of the ritual. A tiny tremor, a misplaced thread, a consequence of the Princess's immense but perhaps overzealous power. And then, he appeared. A fourth. Uncalled. Unforeseen.
Eighteen-year-old Elias, pulled from a quiet attic room in Kyoto, Japan, found himself not amidst cheering throngs, but in a cold, stone chamber, an unwanted anomaly in a world already teetering on the edge of chaos. He was a mere boy in a realm of legends, seemingly devoid of the radiant power of the others. His magic, vast and unique, lay dormant, a hidden ocean beneath a calm surface. Unknowing of the cosmic mistake, and driven by a chilling blend of fear, political expediency, and perhaps a touch of petty malice, the princess and her court saw not a potential ally, but a dangerous disruption.
The whispers of fate had twisted, casting a long, dark shadow. The true war was not just against the Demon Lord, but against the machinations of power, the injustice of circumstance, and the brutal journey of self-discovery that awaited the boy condemned. Elias had stepped from one reality into another, only to find himself instantly cast into the deepest abyss. The echoes of his old life faded, replaced by the chilling, unforgiving whispers of Aethelgard. His destiny, to rise from the depths, would be crowned by the very darkness he endured.