The Cradle of Aalkaria
Aalkaria was a world woven from the mana of creation. Here, magic wasn't a hidden secret; it was the very air people breathed. Mana, the fundamental energy of the planet, flowed through the ancient forests, shimmered off the mountains, and was the steady heartbeat of every living thing.
While nearly all beings could learn to manipulate this Mana, the true dividing line was one's Mana Affinity. Some were naturally drawn to fire, others to earth or wind. Only a rare few were born with no Affinity, making them vulnerable in a society defined by its power.
The world itself was a place of dramatic contrasts and diverse peoples. The lush, fertile Veridian Plains served as the heartland for the Humans and the nomadic Beastkin tribes. This region was bordered by the immense Spine of the World mountain range, home to the proud and powerful Dragonborn clans.
To the north lay the ancient Whispering Forest, domain of the serene Light Elves. In contrast, the volcanic Ashlands were a perilous realm where Monsters roamed freely and the influence of Demons and scattered Dark Elves was strongest. Below the surface, the industrious Dwarven clans forged their cities in the deep earth. Further south, the fierce warrior women of the Amazons claimed the wide Golden Desert as their domain.
This was the realm of adventure, of risk, and of power—the destiny awaiting the soul known as Satou.
The Rebirth
The gentle, peaceful darkness of the void was suddenly replaced by a shockwave of sensation. Satou's consciousness, which had been a quiet flicker, snapped back into agonizing reality. It wasn't a flash of light, but an unbearable crushing pressure, like being squeezed through a straw. The silence was shattered by a cacophony of muffled, frantic noise that ripped through his ears, followed by the terrifying sensation of cold air striking sensitive, wet skin.
I'm suffocating. I can't breathe. What is this pain?
He tried to push, to fight, to yell, but his limbs were clumsy, his movements pathetic, and the sound that escaped him was not a heroic shout but a thin, rattling cry. He was trapped in a body that was completely alien and utterly helpless.
His eyes, still blurry and unfocused, strained to make sense of the new world. He saw a hazy ceiling, the light of a single, soft, mana-fueled lamp that cast strange, swirling shadows. He was being held by two massive hands. The smell was unfamiliar—of herbs, wet linen, and something uniquely earthy.
He heard a woman's exhausted but relieved voice speaking a language he did not recognize, yet somehow, his consciousness understood.
"He is beautiful," the woman whispered, tears audible in her voice. "Our little Kael. Welcome to Aalkaria."