An old leather-bound notebook was flipped, and an old man with bluish-gray eyes focused on four massive tomes, written by his own hand over a lifespan that spanned centuries.
Each book held a precise record of the turbulent eras that the world of Black Plutus had gone through from its first birth to its most recent distortions.
Book One: The Era of Dawning.
Before there was light or darkness, there was nothingness.
No time, no matter, not even thought.
In a moment beyond measure, a tiny spark flashed in an infinite void — a spark that became a being, and a being that turned into a will.
That being was later called the First Entity, or simply: the Origin.
And when the Origin felt its solitude, it tore out its eyes.
From one, the sun was born; from the other, the moon.
Its body scattered to form the earth, its blood flowed to shape the rivers, and its breath formed the winds.
As for its tears, they nourished the first seeds of consciousness — and thus life began.
It is said that the first sentient beings were not created, but blossomed like flowers from the womb of the earth itself.
But no one ever agreed on the truth of that beginning.
Was it an actual event, or just an eternal myth?
Whatever it may be, the search for truth never ceased.
Book Two: The Era of Ascent.
With existence taking shape, the first beings clashed with disasters and mysteries.
Shifting lands, seasons of madness, and rains of fire that fell from the sky.
And because the weak do not endure, new powers arose.
Concepts like "Mana" were born, and entities later known as Lesser Deities appeared — mighty spirits embodying wisdom and elements, guiding the beings toward survival.
In this age, the races crystallized: Demons with mighty bodies, Elves deeply attuned to nature, Dwarves masters of craft, and Humans — frail, yet the fastest to evolve.
Though humans were the weakest, their protection came from the goddess Rekia, known as "The Last Light of Earth."
Also appeared the Dragons, Vampires, Orcs, and the Beastfolk Tribes.
The balance was fragile, but the world kept progressing… until greed began to surface.
Book Three: The Era of Invasion.
The desire for domination devoured hearts.
The gods were no longer worshipped — they were challenged.
And thus began the Great Struggle.
Wars that left no cities standing, conflicts that reshaped mountains and seas.
Humans allied with Elves and Dwarves, while Demons and the wild races rallied behind the Demon King, who was said to have forged a pact with a power known only as the Abyss.
In the final battle, the Saint of Combat, chosen by Rekia, clashed with the Demon King.
A single strike split the world, creating the great divide between the realm of the living and the Demon Continent.
And from that rift, Dungeons began to emerge — temporal and spatial pockets housing beings and secrets that defied comprehension.
The worst part? The monsters didn't stay contained.
They escaped.
They slaughtered.
And most people were not prepared.
Humans, with their fragile bodies and limited capacity to absorb mana, were the first to fall.
Even those who "awakened" faced hidden constraints… rumored to be the Blood Curse.
Thus began the search for a new hope.
Book Four: The Era of Technology.
In a desperate attempt to survive, people turned to invention.
Mana alone was no longer enough.
Tools emerged — from shock rods to weapons enhanced with monster blood.
Scientists invented flying carriages, mana manipulation devices, and weapons activated by will.
The science of Arcane Engineering was born.
Though these tools could not rival the gods, they gave hope to ordinary people.
With the Demon Continent now sealed away from the rest of the world, ambition was curbed for a time.
People caught their breath.
But… peace was nothing more than a brittle shell.
Book Five?
The old man looked at the quill he held — it was no ordinary quill.
A quill faintly coated in golden shimmer, plucked from a Fallen Angel.
It was said to be a tool that wrote only what the will of the world permitted… nothing more.
Its ink? The writer's lifespan.
And for years, it had written only two lines:
"The bearer of the legendary sword has been born."
"And he shall stand against the calamity."
But since then, the quill had remained still.
Until this day.
Suddenly, it trembled in his hands and began to spin in the air.
The tangled threads of fate had begun to shift.
His hands shook, and ink bled from his body.
And the quill began to write…
But the words were unclear.
They were a prophecy.
"The world needs him… yet cannot bear his existence."
"If he dies, reality may collapse."
"If he lives, the calamity will become destiny."
The old man gasped, blood spilling onto the floor.
He clutched his chest and read the words again.
"Who is this?"
"What is this calamity?"
"How has the world's will gone astray?"
He turned to the thick mist behind his window and whispered:
"O Goddess of Light… what awaits the lost lambs in this world?"