Long before kingdoms built their walls and emperors carved their thrones, there existed a land where mana overflowed like air and life thrived under the watchful gaze of ancient beings.
**Zenatia.**
The cradle of dragons.
Their wings once split the skies.
Their roars once shaped mountains.
Their breath once nurtured forests and glaciers alike.
To humans, the dragons were guardians—
not gods, not rulers,
but timeless sentinels who watched over all creation.
But even guardians fall.
An age came when invaders crossed the veil between worlds—
beings of twisted will and bottomless hunger.
**Malives.
The otherworldly scourge.**
Their arrival tore the balance of Zenatia apart.
Kingdoms burned, mountains split, and the sky trembled.
In that chaos, one human stood against them—
a swordsman whose flames burned darker than night, brighter than judgment.
**Damisk Elkevis.
The Sword God of Zenatia.**
At his side, a blade forged from the depths of Hell itself:
**Erell's Purge —
the Sword of Judgment.**
A weapon that saw sins.
Felt emotions.
Punished wickedness.
But power has a price.
And the day the Malives fell,
the sword of Hell grew silent—
as did the man who wielded it.
Years passed.
Dragons vanished into myth.
The scars of war faded.
Peace returned, fragile and trembling.
But legends never truly die.
Somewhere in the coldest corner of Zenatia—
in the blizzard-kissed valley where no flames endure—
a child was born with a fractured fate.
A boy without a right arm.
A boy unseen, unwanted, unchosen.
Except by the blade.
The day he first breathed, Erell's Purge trembled—
glowing brighter than it ever had,
calling out to the one soul whose heart aligned with its judgment.
Years later, exiled and abandoned,
that boy would pick up the legacy left for him.
And Hell would answer.
**For judgment sleeps in silence—
until the chosen awakens.**
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