Millions of years have passed since the events of the Primordial Gods
Now, a new story begins—
in the world of humans.
In a dark and silent forest, an ominous aura clung to every tree.
Thin mist crept along ancient roots, while the night's silence pressed heavily on the air.
At the heart of the forest, a baby lay on the cold ground.
Strange—
he was not crying.
Not moving.
As if a great destiny slept within his small body.
His hair was pure white, softly shimmering beneath the faint moonlight.
His bright blue eyes were open, gazing at the dark sky without fear.
Alone.
Unprotected.
Silent.
Yet from that tiny body flowed something unnatural—
a fate so heavy that even the dark forest itself dared not approach.
---
Not long after, two figures emerged through the mist.
A man and a woman, a married couple, both around twenty-five years old.
The man's name was Ragnar Nightfall,with her brown hair and green eyes and the woman beside him was Marinda Westwood. with her jet-black hair and his shiny yellow eyes
They had lived together for years, yet fate had never granted them a child.
A disease Marinda suffered from made it impossible for her to conceive.
Suddenly, Marinda stopped walking.
"Ragnar…" her voice trembled.
"Is that… a baby?"
Ragnar narrowed his eyes, then froze in shock.
"Yes… it really is a baby."
They hurried closer.
The child's face was unbelievably beautiful—
so delicate it almost resembled that of a baby girl.
His small body was wrapped in a simple white cloth.
Ragnar hesitated before checking.
"Are you sure this is a boy?"
Marinda nodded softly.
"Yes… he's a boy. But his face is so beautiful."
Confusion filled their hearts.
Who could abandon a baby like this in the middle of such a forest?
They searched desperately for the child's parents, calling out into the darkness.
But there were no footprints.
No signs of anyone else.
That was when the painful truth returned to them—
they could never have a child of their own.
Marinda gently lifted the baby into her arms, her eyes filled with tears.
"My child," she whispered,
"from now on, your name is Draven Nightfall."
Ragnar lowered his head.
"Poor child… he has no parents."
That night, their fate changed forever.
---
Eight years later.
Draven had grown into a healthy and energetic boy.
That morning, he woke from a long dream.
Fragments of something strange still lingered in his mind.
Sitting on his bed, he stared blankly ahead and muttered,
"What was that dream…?"
Unbeknownst to him, his mother had already prepared breakfast.
"Draven, wake up, dear," Marinda called from the kitchen.
Draven snapped out of his thoughts.
"Yes, Mom! I'm coming!"
He rushed to the dining table and began eating quickly—
too quickly.
"Cough—! Cough—!"
He choked.
Marinda immediately turned toward him.
"Slow down, Draven. You always eat too fast. Eat calmly."
Draven coughed again before nodding.
"Yeah… sorry, Mom. I'll eat slower."
After finishing his meal, he stood up, ready to go outside and play.
"Mom, where's Dad?" he asked.
Marinda replied while cleaning the table,
"He's hunting goblin monsters with his friends."
"Oh, I see," Draven said cheerfully.
"Then I'm going to play outside."
"Alright," she said gently.
"Go play with your friends, but don't go too far."
"Okay, Mom!"
Draven ran out of the house.
Meanwhile, Marinda continued cleaning—
unaware that a great destiny had begun to stir once more.
To be continue