In the dawn of creation, when even time had no name, the vast universe was woven by the hand of the Creator Goddess.
She shaped the heavens above, carved the lands below, and breathed the essence of life into humankind.
From Her divine light emerged the first gods, the Twelve Guardian Divinities.
These twelve were known as the Twelve Guardians, or simply, the Guardians, beings of pure divinity who carried the sacred duty of preserving order throughout all realms of existence.
But the Creator's work did not end there.
From the eternal flame of Her will, she forged the Seven Primordial Dragonlords, creatures born of elemental power and divine light, tasked with protecting the fragile balance of the infinite cosmos.
Between the divine realm and the mortal world in the void that bridged creation and chaos the Twelve Guardians knelt before the Creator.
Upon a throne of platinum light, she sat in solemn majesty, Her gaze deep enough to hold entire constellations.
"You are the ones I have chosen…"
She spoke, Her voice resonating like thunder across the firmament.
"Twelve beacons of light to guide the races of this world. Protect what I have given to all creation."
The heavens trembled with Her words and yet, among the twelve kneeling before Her, one stood apart.
Among the twelve, however, there was one unlike the rest.
His wings were whiter than the clouds of dawn, his eyes so radiant they seemed to pierce the soul.
He was the mightiest of them all, the right hand of the Creator, the very embodiment of divine perfection.
But as the ages passed, a faint darkness began to stir within those eyes.
It was small at first, an unseen shadow, a quiet question but it grew.
No one knew when it began, only that something had taken root inside that pure heart, twisting light into a silent abyss.
The Creator, in Her infinite sight, saw all.
One day, His voice echoed across the heavens, calm yet sorrowful.
"Within your heart, ambition festers. Such desire defies the law I have written. From this moment forth, you are unworthy to stand by My side."
The divine realm fell into silence. The other eleven Guardians bowed their heads in grief, none daring to speak.
The accused lifted his eyes, burning with fury and disbelief.
"My lord.. will You condemn me without giving me the chance to explain?" His voice trembled, filled with anguish that shook the very air.
"When ambition takes root, words become deceit…" the Creator's judgment thundered.
A blinding light erupted from the throne. His once-pure wings were torn apart in agony, feathers of light scattering and fading into ash.
What remained were wings as black as the void, heavy as despair itself.
A holy radiance engulfed him and in that final moment, his divine form was cast down into the abyss.
Flames of darkness swallowed him whole, twisting his screams into silence.
From that day on, the greatest of the Twelve Guardians ceased to exist.
And in his place, the world witnessed the birth of a cursed being , The Fallen Celestial King, the progenitor of all sin.
When he struck the earth, the heavens roared.
Oceans rose, forests trembled, and the souls of humankind wept.
Their despair and guilt converged into a black vortex, shaping a crown of shadow upon his head.
He rose from the ashes, eyes burning with vengeance.
"I will reclaim what was taken from me. You shall see, my Creator and I will become more than You ever intended me to be!"
His laughter echoed through the void, the birth cry of darkness itself and from his wrath, seven primordial demons emerged embodiments of the Seven Deadly Sins.
They knelt before him, worshiping him as their sovereign.
Thus began the First War between Light and Shadow.
Blood, tears, and the screams of humankind drenched the five continents.
The skies burned crimson, and the world cracked apart marking the dawn of the first Age of Chaos.
Five hundred years later.
The war between humans, monsters, and other races still raged on.
For more than half a century, the world had drowned in chaos ever since a High Demon escaped from the Abyss, bringing death to every land it touched.
It began in the Kingdom of Lumerious, once a sacred realm blessed by the Great Guardian, now nothing more than ruins and ashes.
The High Demon led an army of three hundred elite fiends, slaughtering tens of thousands of souls. Its laughter thundered across the sky, crushing the last hope of humankind.
"How pitiful you are, fragile creatures of flesh. The world your gods created shall soon belong to us!"
Yet even in despair, some still rose to fight.
At the heart of Lumerious stood a Royal Hero, commander of the Seven Holy Knights, the strongest warriors of the kingdom.
Clutching the Divine Sword blessed by the Creator Himself, he charged into the inferno.
"Foul demons! You are not worthy to speak His name! Begone from this world, DIE!"
He fought until his final breath, watching his comrades fall one by one, their faith and pain buried together in the flames.
The High Demon laughed, its voice venomous.
"Foolish human... Your pact with my master is over. It was He who sent me to punish your betrayal."
With that revelation, despair consumed him.
All his sacrifices, all the blood spilled in the name of light had been for nothing.
The High Demon sneered: "You sought to stand beside the God you worship, and so you deceived my master to reach the heavens? Humans truly are the most greedy of all beings!"
Then, amid ruin and despair, a golden radiance burst forth piercing the darkened sky.
A gentle yet commanding voice resonated across the battlefield.
"Cease this meaningless slaughter. I am Lucien, the Archguardian sent by the Creator to bring salvation to the suffering. O lost souls, be freed from this endless war."
His divine light spread, purging the darkness that had consumed the land.
The demons shrieked as their forms disintegrated under the holy brilliance.
"Servants of the Seven Sins…" Lucien declared: "… return to your master and warn him this. Should he defy the will of creation again, the wrath of the Creator will bring an end to all your kind."
The wailing of demons filled the air before they vanished, their cries fading into oblivion.
The battle was over.
Then Lucien turned to the fallen hero, the one once chosen by the Creator, now consumed by ambition.
"You who were chosen…" Lucien's voice echoed, solemn and cold: "… have lost your pure heart to foolish desire. Thus, your destruction shall be your final judgment."
"NOOOOO!"
The hero's scream tore through the heavens as holy flames consumed him.
His soul shattered, his divine power stripped away.
Only the Divine Sword remained, a relic of both loyalty and sin, left behind in the mortal world.
From among the Seven Holy Knights, another rose, chosen by Lucien to inherit that sacred blade.
With divine light coursing through him, he struck down the remaining fiends, ending the half-century war.
That battle became legend, the story passed down through every race and kingdom that survived.
In the aftermath of ruin and silence, amid the ashes of a fallen age, a child was born.
Far to the north, deep within the Dark Aura Forest, a land untouched by mortals, where beasts and monsters ruled, a storm raged.
Thunder split the sky, rain lashed against the earth.
There, upon the cold, muddy ground, lay a newborn, wrapped in torn cloth.
The baby's cries echoed faintly through the storm.
Any other infant would have perished that night.
But this child opened his eyes bright, unyielding as if defying fate itself.
In the distance, a pack of Demon Wolves caught the scent of life.
Their crimson eyes glowed in the dark as they circled closer, hunger dripping from every breath.
The child raised a tiny hand and the heavens answered.
A deafening crack split the air as a bolt of lightning struck from above, incinerating the leading wolf into ash.
The rest of the pack howled in terror and fled into the storm.
That night, the storm subsided and the child… still alive, untouched by death lay beneath the clearing sky.
He would grow to be the one who defied destiny. The one whose birth marked the turning of an age.
Sixteen years later...