Before time learned to keep its own rhythm, before the first kingdom rose or the first prayer was ever spoken, there was Tera—a young, breathing world wrapped in oceans of mist and fire.From that haze came the gods.
They were not born.They awakened.
Stars bent into shapes of thought. Winds twisted into consciousness. Light and shadow took form, molding themselves into beings of immense power. Each god took a fragment of creation and shaped it into life: forests, rivers, mountains, storms. But their final work—their masterpiece—was humanity.
Humans were fragile, short-lived, and hopelessly curious. Yet the gods admired them. Admired their hunger to grow, to understand, to survive. And so, each god reached into their own essence and offered gifts.
To the God of Flame, his believers received burning strength that could melt iron.To the God of Storms, followers could call thunder.To the God of Earth, believers could turn stone to shield themselves.The God of Beasts granted speed, instinct, and forms closer to nature.The God of Light gave healing and radiance.The God of Shadows gave silent footsteps and invisible blades.
Every faith birthed a nation. Every nation built temples.And power flowed through prayers like rivers.
The world of Tera bloomed—and trembled.
Because not every god made the same choice.
In the quiet corner of the heavens, there existed a deity known only by title: The Silent One.Neither male nor female, neither light nor shadow. A god who watched but never acted, who listened but never spoke.
Humans who felt drawn to this quiet presence formed a small faith. They built shrines without statues, prayed without asking for blessings, believing that silence was a form of truth.
But when every other god granted power…The Silent One granted nothing.
No strength.No flames.No storms.No healing.No shadow.Nothing.
Their believers were mocked.Called the Powerless Faith.Shoved to the lowest caste.Forced to work the harshest fields and fight the wars of others.They were slaves in a world overflowing with divine gifts—and they alone were abandoned.
But what humans never understood was this:
The Silent God had refused for a reason.
While other gods gave power freely, the Silent One had seen what humans had not—that power blinds, corrupts, turns faith into arrogance, and nations into weapons.
The Silent One knew how this story would end.
And as centuries passed, the god's fear became truth.
The powerful kingdoms began to clash.A war of belief became a war of divine destruction.Cities fell in flames of holy fire.Armies marched with thunder in their veins.Rivers boiled.Skies cracked.Humanity worshipped their gods by slaughtering each other.
The Silent One watched.
And finally… acted.
But that story lies ahead.For now, the world stands on the edge of catastrophe—its people enslaved to the very blessings they prayed for, its future held hostage by divine pride.
And among the persecuted, among those born powerless, among those who whispered prayers into a god that never answered—a child stood quietly beneath the shade of a broken shrine.
A boy with steady eyes.A boy who bore no power—yet felt something stir inside him whenever he closed his eyes.A boy who belonged to the lowest caste… yet held the potential to defy heaven itself.
His name was Kihor.And though the world did not know it yet…its fate would soon hinge on him.