They called it The Fall.Though in truth, nothing fell but man himself.
The world of Arian was once calm. Seas gleamed under twin suns, and the people quarreled about trade and land, not monsters or gods. It was just life. It was simple.
Then one dawn, the light that was meant to rise... cracked.
It began with a sound, a trembling hum that shook through every ship hull, every tree, and into the bones of men. Then the horizon bent.Space folded like silk and shattered like glass.
From those wounds in the sky poured shapes that no eyes could ever truly hold. Shadows that moved like storms, crawling, flying, crawling again—too many to count.
They came like a flood, pouring into Arian, burning through forest and steel. The sea boiled, cities twisted into smoke, and the sky lost its color.
The creatures had no names then. Later, the survivors called them Voidborn.Beasts from a place where life never belonged.
They did not see man as man. They saw motion. They saw warmth. They saw prey.
Towers sank into the earth. The oceans howled and the stars disappeared one by one.And yet, even then, mankind did not give up breathing.
They hid in valleys and caves, in old ships and broken towns. They fought with fire and sticks and anything sharp enough to keep the dark away. Some prayed. Most didn't. All they wanted was to last until the next dawn.
When it was over—if you could call it over—sixty in every hundred souls were gone. The oceans turned black. The air carried the taste of metal. The sun looked pale, like it had grown old overnight.
And yet, amid that ruin, in the coastal lands of the First Empire, a small boy tried to shield his sister from the dark.
The creature that came for them had no eyes, just a mouth that hummed.The boy screamed, but his voice never reached the sky. Instead, the air around him cracked open with light.
Blue and gold symbols whirled across his skin—runes, circles, strange words that no one could read. The storm went silent.Then, a voice echoed from nowhere and everywhere all at once:
[Gaia System initialized.]
And the world awoke.
The monster turned to dust. The boy fell. His heartbeat rolled through the land like thunder trapped under water.By morning, others bore the same mark.They found power, strength, and something new: a whisper that spoke inside their minds, telling them of health, of limits, of names and numbers.
They had discovered Ether, the pulse of life itself.And with it, Elements—fire, water, wind, earth, light, and shadow—each shaping the soul that carried it.
The boy of the First Empire became myth, and the voice that spoke through him became legend. They named it Gaia.
Whether it was a god, a machine, or the world itself—no one ever knew.
Through Gaia, mankind rebuilt.Through strength, they forged Empires.And through those Empires, Arian found a new order.
A world of swords and spells.Of systems and survival.Of men trying once more to be gods.
"Five thousand years have passed since the Fall. And though the names of the first have faded, humankind still persists."
Now, Arian shines again—twelve great Empires rising from old ashes.Among them stands the oldest and brightest:The Light Empire, where mages and knights share the same halls.
And deep within its capital, there lies a house where fire and lightning meet—where sword and spell breathe the same air.
The House Solarin.
There, beneath the fading sun of the Serpent Calendar,a child is born.
A child who does not cry.
— End of Prologue —