In the beginning of time, our world was a prosperous and radiant place; mankind ruled over it like a god in the absence of one. Kingdoms flourished, and cities grew beyond anything once imaginable. Roads connected realms and even continents. Life was brilliant. There was nothing but light on the horizon.

  And then… Vorel descended upon us.

  An inexhaustible source of power, surpassing every human concept of individual and collective strength, rewriting even the very ecosystem itself. Fantastical creatures emerged. Humanity advanced even further. The first human champions ascended.

  Nations threw themselves into a race to grasp the enlightenment of Vorel, and after years of study and training, three distinct paths were identified: the Sigmas.

  The first was Mana—refined through knowledge, understanding, and the indomitable will to shape reality according to one’s imagination.

  Then came Lumyrr, a force capable of moving armies and elevating warriors beyond the limits of humanity. Lumyrr strengthened the weak and elevated martial skill to an entirely new level, granting precision, profound technical insight, and the power to cut through iron as if it were butter.

  In the most remote and unfortunate regions, commoners also discovered Dreth. Driven by an unrelenting desire to survive, they too ascended.

  Yet most humans remained mundane.

  With power came ambition. Humanity is an inexhaustible well of ambition. What began as disputes between feudal lords escalated into wars between kingdoms and alliances.

  THE STRONG DEVOURED THE WEAK.

  Empires rose quickly and fell just as fast. Kingdoms expanded and withered. Rivers of human blood were spilled in the pursuit of hegemony.

  After centuries of warfare, humanity became more hardened, ruthless, and powerful than ever before. Legends spoke of individuals who had reached even the Seventh Level.

  This long era of conflict became known as the War of Dawn.

  However, when the War of Dawn stood at its very peak, something went catastrophically wrong.

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  As the armies of empires—whose names were lost to time and drowned in the noise of endless war—clashed in a fierce and deafening battle, an ancient and profane evil emerged, silencing the clash of swords and stilling the cold, blood-soaked steel.

  Thousands upon thousands of demonic creatures appeared—beings that looked as though they had been born from a fevered nightmare or from a hell reserved for the most twisted and sinful of souls.

  The wave of demons filled the horizon in supernatural darkness, carrying with it an overwhelming stench of death. The skies turned a ghostly green, and the sun hid itself as if it feared what was to come.

  Everyone froze in terror—including the most experienced warriors.

  They only awoke from their paralysis when the abominations were already upon them.

  And then began a battle for survival.

  The first of countless battles humanity would be forced to fight—without rest, and without surrender.

  This battle was especially brutal. Chaos consumed the world, and logic took leave. The line between allies and enemies became irrelevant; only steel stood between them and death.

  For hours they bled—and spilled demonic blood in return. There seemed to be no end to the torrent of creatures. Exhaustion eventually struck them like a mountain, crushing every fragment of their being.

  Then they began to die in droves.

  Filipe Eduard, a simple knight recently touched by Lumyrr, fought with everything he had alongside his companions and several unknown knights.

  In the distance, he noticed a group of knights who had formed a defensive circle and were somehow holding their ground.

  If we want to live, we need to reach them! Filipe thought.

  With the sound of tearing flesh and shattering bone, he saw someone being ripped in half by a bite. Blood sprayed across him, soaking his armor and face.

  It’s warm, he realized, horrified by the thought that he might be next.

  For a moment, his courage faltered.

  But gathering everything that remained of his soul—and the little strength left in his body—he pushed forward.

  “We have to reach them!” he shouted from the depths of his throat, as loud as he could, pointing his sword toward the southwest.

  The nearby warriors rallied around him. Some hesitated at first, not recognizing him as a superior—but in moments of desperation, many things lose their importance.

  They advanced, forcing their bodies beyond what should ever be allowed for any human.

  Blood sprayed everywhere. Bodies were torn apart by claws like swords and teeth like sabers. Many creatures also fell—heads severed by blades and weapons of every kind, bodies reduced to piles of repulsive, rotting flesh.

  Time slowed to a crawl.

  A hundred meters became kilometers. Every step was agony. Every inch gained was a victory worth celebrating.

  The cacophony of battle was the only thing their ears perceived. Their eyes saw nothing except the creature in front of them—and then the next.

  Their once beautiful and graceful movements vanished. In their place remained only simple motions with a single purpose:

  Kill.

  Horizontal strikes. Vertical strikes.

  Nothing else.

  Conserve energy… so they could kill more.

  A newly awakened desire to slaughter demonic creatures consumed them all.

  Finally, they collided against a wall of iron and steel—snapping them out of their trance.

  They had arrived…