When the universe began to form, powerful entities also emerged. That event sparked a war that has lasted to the present day.
It was the beginning of the struggle between good and evil—a battle between powerful entities from each faction.
But then, everything changed. The gods of the evil faction suddenly discovered a power that could shift the tide of war—
A power capable of sealing the abilities of the gods from the righteous faction. One by one, gods from the righteous side began to disappear, until the day the righteous faction finally fell.
Driven by insatiable greed, the evil gods began their invasion, sending forth hordes of demons and monsters to conquer world after world.
On a distant planet known as Ñumo—a breathtaking world brimming with magic and mana—the skies shimmered with auroras even in daylight. Towering crystal forests hummed with ancient energy, and rivers of pure mana flowed through the land, nourishing creatures both mystical and wild. Floating isles drifted high above the surface, sustained by the planet's rich magical essence. Ñumo was a sanctuary of wonder and power—one of the last frontiers untouched by the corruption of the evil gods.
But that peace did not last. The invasion reached Ñumo. Demons tore open the skies, and monsters emerged from dark rifts in the earth. Countries were annihilated, cities reduced to ruins, and once-thriving civilizations were brought to their knees.
Billions of lives—beings of every race and kind, many human-like but unique in form and culture—were lost in the chaos. Ñumo, once a beacon of beauty and balance, became a graveyard echoing with screams and silence.
And yet, when all hope seemed lost, one man still stood against the darkness. Alone, he fought against billions of demons and monsters, an unyielding force in a world consumed by despair.
That man was Prothrus—the strongest mage on Ñumo, the last known mage alive to have achieved the 10th Pentacle, the highest rank of magic a mortal could achieve.
He stood alone against the endless armies of darkness.
And in a final battle, he faced the evil god who led the invasion, a massive creature whose presence turned day into night and whose voice could shatter mountains.
Protheus fought him and won.
The battle shook the very foundations of Ñumo, and with a final spell that lit up the heavens, the evil god Tel'Zeroth was destroyed.
But the war was far from over.
Billions of demons and monsters still roamed the ruined lands, spreading chaos and devouring what remained. Protheus, though wearied and wounded, continued to fight. He hunted down the remaining hordes, his magic a blazing beacon in the dark.
Then, as he cleansed the last corrupted region of its infernal swarm, he saw it.
A rift in space.
But this was no small tear in space—it was massive. As tall as a three-story building, it floated in the air like a gaping wound in reality. Its edges pulsed and twisted, gleaming with crimson light that lit up the battlefield in an eerie red glow. The sky around it trembled, and the ground below cracked from the pressure it gave off.
It wasn't like the other portals. This one felt different, bigger, stronger, and leading to a world unlike any he had seen before.
Protheus stood still, his breath heavy, his robes torn and bloodied, his magic flickering around him like fire.
The war had brought him this far. But something told him this rift wasn't the end.
It was the beginning of something far greater.