— The War on Terra Sanguinis.
From the earliest days recorded in human memory, the war between the Harvesters and the magical beasts had never truly ceased.
For over a thousand years, the two sides clashed across continents and even across dimensions, each battle eroding what little balance remained in the world.
At first, humanity resisted.
The Harvesters fought with everything they had. But as time passed, they were slowly pushed back. Casualties mounted. Cities fell. Blood soaked the land.
So, in desperation, they made a plea.
Through a ritual that demanded an unthinkable sacrifice—after more than half of the human race had been erased from the battlefield itself—the Harvesters at the end sought the intervention of the higher forces. It was the only way they could delay extinction.
But even that came at a terrible cost.
Power always ruled the battlefield…
and the beasts had more of it.
*******
Flashback
The air was filled with screams—humans and beasts alike.
Harvesters flooded the battlefield, wielding elemental powers, causing storms, raining flames, and unleashing raw energy on the same battlegrounds.
Yet none among them stood above the Intermediate Rank.
They trusted their numbers, their desperation, and their will to survive.
They were wrong.
The beasts had held back their true elites throughout the war. They waited until humanity was exhausted, wounded, and desperate—then unleashed their highest classes in a final, merciless annihilation.
Most beasts commanded the fundamental forces too.
Earth.
Fire.
Water.
Air.
But others possessed far darker gifts.
Some shaped things to their satisfaction through imagination; some bent lava, and some shape-shifted. Others crushed bones with a glance, bent blood within living bodies, or tore souls from flesh—slaughtering hundreds at once, depending on their rank.
That war rewrote history for Resonants… and for beasts alike.
Terra Sanguinis — The Land of Blood
For weeks, the slaughter did not stop. It was a long, stretched war.
The earth turned crimson.
The sky darkened with ash and smoke, and the cries of lost souls.
Never before had the universe recorded such a vast and merciless massacre.
At this point when things were most intensein the final hours of that war that he stood revealed.
The ruler of the Fourth Hierarchy of beasts.
A demon of punishment and death.
Mortifex.
Towering nearly eleven feet tall, Mortifex bore the fused traits of a mountain goat and a rhinoceros standing on His two feet. His massive horns curved outward like jagged blades, and a crushing demonic aura poured from his body. Dark-red eyes glowed with cold intelligence as his body glistened in the glory of his perfection.
He gazed upon the battered human army.
"Pathetic beings…" Mortifex rumbled, then stepped up onto higher ground.
"Our masters offer mercy.he screamed. Surrender now, and your kind may yet be spared—to serve as slaves still under the shadow of our mercy."
But a voice immediately answered him.
"Never!!!"
A single mage stepped forward from the shattered ranks. His eyes ignited with blinding white light as his body slowly levitated into the air. Power surged outward, pushing back even Mortifex's oppressive presence.
"This ends now," he said.
For the first time, doubt flickered in the beast's gaze.
"If it were so easy," Mortifex mocked, "why wait until you are already defeated?"
Then he felt it.
The shift in the air.
The distortion of reality.
A time spell.
So this was their plan all along. Mortifex thought.
If there was a war only at least one human knew about, he would know their mistakes and know what to do to win the war.
Mortifex stood and took a good look around him. And there it was—that déjà vu feeling.
A slight chuckle escaped his lips as a heavy realization set in.
"So we've fought this war before,"? he sighed.
The mage's aura clashed violently with Mortifex's own. This was no ordinary Resonant.
"You will stand down—" the human spoke, but Mortifex let out a loud roar the next second, clearly sending a signal.
Then the mage began professing his spells as his aura surrounded him, his eyes releasing a light so bright it began covering the masses.
But just then, a scream tore through the battlefield—so sharp, so piercing, it shattered his focus and sent him crashing to the ground.
All eyes turned.
What they saw was beauty beyond comprehension.
A massive serpentine figure lay coiled among the beasts, her diamond-like scales glistening beneath the darkened sky, her exposed form drawing hostile stares from her enemies. Blue, glowing hair flowed like liquid light, and her eyes were impossibly beautiful… and impossibly cruel.
She was breathtaking.
And horrifying.
Her cry was nothing like her beauty. It was so violent that weaker Harvesters clutched their ears as blood slowly dripped from them.
After a while, she sank back into the sea of beasts, vanishing from human sight.
Then the world changed.
The beasts began retreating.
The winds grew restless.
Rivers burst their banks and oceans rose.
Water flooded the battlefield instantly.
She was a Marine Principality. How did they not know this?
Even in the hour of their expected end, the humans could not look away as she rose again and let out another scream.
The beasts began retreating to higher ground. Some Harvesters shouted in victory, believing the tide had finally turned.
They were wrong.
A colossal wave surged across the field, sweeping the Harvesters from their feet. Even the strongest mages could not control such massive waters, and intermediates could barely manage such vast bodies.
Bodies vanished beneath the surface. Some tried to save others.
Many drowned.
The battlefield became a sea.
Then the Marine Goddess made her final move, raising her head from the waters, her eyes already harboring a deep blue glow as she crawled upon a high ground.
The she clapped
.
Instantly, the entire body of water froze—trapping every living thing within.
And with a single gesture…
She shattered it.
Ice and snow exploded across the land, burying the dead and the living alike.
The battlefield fell silent.
That land would forever bear the memory of the slaughter.
Half of the human race that participated in this war were dead. Not a soul recorded it.
Slowly, red snowflakes fell upon the ground.
This event was named The Winter fall, loss of the human race.
Terra Sanguinis.
The Land of Blood.
And from that war, the world learned a cruel truth—
Power was never fair.
Mercy was never free.
And those born without strength were never meant to rise.
THE SACRIFICE.
After fourteen days (two weeks, three days), the Principalities—none less than Intermediate Rank—returned. Their auras made the air hard to breathe.
They demanded more, which drove the ruling king to slit the throat of his three-day-old infant as a sacrifice to the Principalities, who had arrived with a heavy hunger for death.
They harvested together, sharing the poor infant's soul even before it gave up.
History recorded that the sacrificed infant possessed a clean and great soul—one that satisfied the Principalities and held them back for decades to come.
And that they would return for more.
For now they can just keep training against the worst they expect in the future.