Before time had a name, there was only war.
A battle waged not between armies, but between ideas. Between two eternal forces:
One called God—a being of light, order, and law.
The other known only as The Devil—chaos incarnate, cruel and unrelenting.
They fought across the void for eons, neither yielding, neither victorious. Universes burned in the wake of their fury. Stars were born from the sparks of their swords.
And then, at the edge of exhaustion, they realized the truth:
They would never find peace.
So they created ten divine beings—five gods and five demons—imbued with fragments of their essence. A perfect balance of light and darkness. They would inherit the world, and with it, a single mission:
"Find peace, or be erased."
Every ten thousand years, a new generation would rise. And if they failed?
The world would be cleansed.
Again.
It's been seven generations. Seven chances. Seven failures.
And now...
The eighth generation awakens.
Somewhere Beyond the Mortal Plane
A quiet realm bathed in golden starlight.
Two ancient beings sat across from one another. No thrones, no armies—just a flat stone table between them, once used for war games, now collecting dust.
God leaned forward, arms crossed, his glowing eyes narrowed.
"I think this generation might actually find peace."
A raspy, thunderous laugh echoed through the stillness.
The Devil, lounging on a stone shaped like a fang, grinned like a man who'd seen the end of every story.
"You still cling to that foolish hope? How many times have we done this?"
"Seven? Eight? I've lost count."
"Seven," God said. "This is the eighth."
"Lucky number eight, huh? Sure. Let's see if they can finally stop killing each other."
"They have to."
"Says who?"
God's tone turned colder, deeper.
"Because this is the last generation."
A silence fell between them. Even the stars above seemed to dim.
"…You're serious."
"If they fail, we start again. Not with gods and demons. Not with rules or mercy. We burn it all."
The Devil stood, cracking his knuckles. His smile was gone.
"Well, well. You finally grew a spine."
He grabbed a deck of glowing, rune-marked cards from the table and smirked.
"Wanna play while we watch?"
"No. I'm done playing games."
He turned away, light trailing behind him like comet fire.
"Aww, come on! You're no fun, you celestial wimp."
No reply.
God vanished into the heavens.
The Devil chuckled and looked down—down through the layers of existence, past the clouds andthe stars—to the mortal world far below.
Ten lights began to flicker into being. Five born from holy flames. Five rising from the shadowed depths.
Each one opening their eyes to a world already teetering on the edge.
"Let's see if you can surprise me, little 8th generation. Just don't disappoint me like the rest."
Five gods. Five demons. One world.
If they can find peace, the world will be saved. If they fail, all will be lost—forever.
No more second chances. No more do-overs.
The board is set.
The final game begins.