For thousands of years, Brahmand has known only war.
Not the kind fought for land.
Not the kind fought for pride.
But a war born from betrayal… and sustained by hatred older than memory.
There was a time when Devas and Daityas stood side by side.
They sought the Chalice of Amrit, the sacred Kalash whispered to grant true immortality — not merely endless life, but the power to regenerate even from wounds carved by divine weapons. Together they braved the cosmic abyss. Together they endured storms of void and rivers of celestial fire.
And when the Kalash finally rose from the depths of creation—
The Devas turned.
Without warning.
Without mercy.
They claimed the nectar for themselves.
In that single heartbeat, trust died.
What followed was not rebellion.
It was annihilation.
The heavens split.
The oceans boiled.
The ground drank blood until it could drink no more.
Kingdoms collapsed into dust before their rulers understood they were under siege. Cities burned for weeks, their screams swallowed by blackened skies. Children cried beside the corpses of parents who had once promised them safety. An old woman rocked back and forth in the ashes of her home, whispering prayers to gods already retreating. A father held up a collapsing pillar with torn hands, shielding his daughter as fire rained around them—until both vanished beneath stone.
No one was spared.
Not mortal.
Not immortal.
Not beast.
Not divine.
Darkness did not merely fall upon Brahmand.
It rooted itself.
And from that darkness emerged corruption.
A force that seeps into flesh and bone.
A hunger that twists instinct into savagery.
The Devas learned too late that power alone could not master it. Beasts succumbed first—their primal nature feeding the corruption until they became abominations of tooth and fury. Only a rare few divine creatures, sustained by celestial grace, could resist its pull.
But humans…
Humans were different.
Within them existed imbalance and balance in equal measure. They could ascend beyond instinct—or sink deeper than any beast. They alone possessed the terrifying potential to wield immeasurable power and still resist complete corruption.
And so, both sides turned to them.
The Daityas did not offer guidance.
They offered shortcuts.
They whispered into broken hearts. Promised strength to the grieving. Promised vengeance to the powerless.
Many accepted.
Power flooded their veins.
Bones hardened. Muscles thickened. Eyes burned with unnatural light.
But their souls—
Their souls slipped from their grasp.
Corruption did not serve them.
It hollowed them.
Under the banner of the Asuras now marched armies of twisted beasts and fallen humans alike—creatures neither living nor dead, driven by hunger that never quieted.
Humanity survives in only a handful of sanctuaries scattered across Brahmand. These fragile havens exist because the mightiest Devas, gravely wounded and desperate, sacrificed themselves to forge colossal barriers of divine light. Walls not of stone, but of will. They burn endlessly, holding back the tide of annihilation.
They were not built out of certainty.
They were built out of fear.
And hope.
Hope that one day a human might rise high enough to end what the gods began.
To preserve even that fading hope, a mysterious god surrendered his life. His essence became an unseen force, sustaining the sacred barriers from collapse.
But even divine sacrifices weaken with time.
This world is Brahmand.
The axis of realms.
The heart of creation.
The world to which countless others are bound.
If Brahmand is fully consumed—
Corruption will not stop here.
It will spread.
Across dimensions.
Across existence.
Across reality itself.
And yet—
In a forgotten continent swallowed by jungle…
Within ruins that do not reveal themselves to the unworthy…
A fifteen-year-old boy stumbles into the dark.
He is not chosen.
He is not ready.
He is bleeding.
And somewhere deep within the ancient silence—
Something awakens.