Five hundred years ago, a bloody war broke out between the primordial races.
Angels, demons, dragons, fairies, elves, beastmen, and humans all plunged into endless carnage, each dreaming of seizing control of the world's destiny.
It was then, amid this blood-soaked chaos, that a human appeared: the very first Hero in history. His power was so immense that even the Monarchs — the most powerful beings of their respective races — considered him an unprecedented threat to their reign and their own lives.
His mere presence changed the course of the Great War, and that was not all. He wielded one of the most terrifying weapons ever created: the Corrector Ava, a weapon capable, even at its lowest output, of erasing entire continents in a fraction of a second.
The last recorded use of this weapon in history caused indescribable devastation across the world. In order to force the Monarchs to surrender and end the war, he exterminated half of each of their armies — including that of his own race. Faced with such immense losses, the Monarchs chose to form a non-aggression pact to avoid further catastrophe — not only for their personal and financial interests, but also for their own survival.
They accepted every condition the man imposed in exchange for his acceptance of the pact. Once it was concluded, the man who had restored peace vanished as mysteriously as he had appeared. This time, however, he left behind a message:
"I, who always aspired to peace, did not foresee the disaster that approaches… When the boundary between Good and Evil collapses, a king without a crown will appear, and that day will mark the end of all things."
Many years later
1:04 PM, somewhere on a mountain in the Eastern Empire.
A vast manor stood proudly at the summit.
Birds were singing outside, and a gentle breeze rustled the leaves of the trees.
Inside the manor, not a single human sound disturbed the silence; everything was empty and still. Only the birdsong and the steady murmur of the nearby fountain echoed through the hallway.
In the middle of a garden stood a large pavilion that extended into the center of a flower field.
A faint movement caused a pure white curtain to flutter; a butterfly perched on a flower took flight and landed on the chest of a young red-haired boy.
He was sleeping on the lap of a young woman with brown hair who gently stroked his head.
"Young master Eric, young master Oliver has arrived."
With a calm and gentle voice, she announced it.
The boy slowly opened his eyes and sat up.
The young woman handed him a pair of transparent glasses, which he put on.
"Thank you, Elena…"
he said softly as he adjusted them.
"It was nothing…"
She answered sincerely, accompanied by a warm smile.
The boy crossed his legs and scratched his head with a faint sigh.
"So Oliver is here, huh?"
"Affirmative…" Elena replied.
"It's rare for him to come here, and if I understand correctly, he went straight to see Noa, didn't he?"
Elena didn't answer immediately; she first picked up a cup of tea from the small central table.
"It's strange… Seeing them today, you'd never guess they were once best friends."
"I'm sure it'll end badly again… but anyway, does Father know he's here?"
Elena stood and began clearing the table.
"Master Charl is already aware; I believe he's preparing."
Eric stood as well to help her.
"We should get ready too, right? Besides, the patriarch will be upset if we're late."
Elena stepped out of the pavilion with the tray, giving Eric a sideways glance. A gentle breeze made her hair dance.
"Good idea, let's go…"
The young master looked up at the sky, his expression thoughtful.
"Oliver… Noa… If only you could go back to how you were before…"
A little further in the courtyard
Two soldiers on break were sitting on a bench, enjoying the day.
"Feels good to be on break, huh, Nathan?"
Simon asked his colleague beside him.
"Nathan thinks he and Simon should take care of young master Noa instead of just sitting around."
Simon sighed, half amused.
"Nathan, seriously, you should try to relax a little. And besides, we're not sitting here for nothing. He told us himself to go rest because he doesn't like having us around during his training. So relax. Loosen your muscles. Breathe."
Nathan held out his sandwich, staring at him.
"Nathan thinks Simon is always lazy."
A silence settled. Even the rustling leaves seemed to stop.
"Nathan… you're annoying, you know that."
Further inside
A gigantic flower-filled hall, covered by a transparent glass dome.
A small puppy slept on the green grass, lulled by the golden sunlight filtering through the dome's windows, while sharp sounds echoed in the distance.
A young black-haired boy, shirtless, was striking a tree with his fists. Blood dripped down.
"306… 307… 308…"
This boy was named Noa Hyperion.
"What a joke… I only threw 310 blows and they're already bleeding. If I keep going, Yuna will scold me…"
He looked at his bloody fist and then raised his eyes toward the sky, wondering whether its color matched that of Yuna's eyes.
"Looks like it won't rain today… good."
As he watched the sky, lost in thought, a familiar voice abruptly cut him off.
"Hello cousin, how are you? It's been three years, I think, since we last saw each other."
It sounded strangely fake.
Noa turned around with a cold look.
"Stop pretending with me. And if you really want to know: I'm not happy to see you again, Oliver."
The boy who had arrived was Oliver Hyperion, aged 17, third son of the patriarch's fourth younger brother, and one of the favorites to inherit that title.
Noa stared straight into his eyes — something that made him flinch — yet Oliver seemed amused.
"My, my… you've never looked me straight in the eyes before… have you?"
A calm smile formed on Noa's lips.
"Well, you'd better get used to it."
Oliver's smile widened. He turned around and tried to drag Noa in the opposite direction to stop him.
"You know, my young cousin, even if we share no blood relation, you should know that insolence toward your elders isn't a good thing. But not—"
Noa looked at him with a neutral expression as a yellow storm formed around Oliver's arm.
"I know arrogance toward an elder is frowned upon in the family. But the only reason I answered you that way is because I feel that's exactly what you want."
Oliver turned toward him, pointing at him with the arm wrapped in golden aura.
"Good answer. Bad idea."
The aura around his arm crackled and, without warning, a lightning attack burst toward Noa.
He did not move. The blow struck him in the face, making him bleed, but Noa remained unmoving, his gaze turning fiercer.
Oliver, on the other hand, smiled, satisfied.
.