In a faraway land, a king clutched his throne, his reign a suffocating shroud of fear and torture. In his domain, the rich lived in grotesque excess; their very latrines gleamed with gold. Yet, the poor withered in abject destitution, their desperation so profound they bartered their own children for a meager bag of grain. Despite their cries, the cruel king remained utterly unmoved, his heart a stone to his suffering citizens. Their dissatisfaction festered, a growing malignancy, until the people finally roared for heroes to rise and tear him from his throne.
Five brave friends answered the call, unfurling their banners and sweeping forth, leading soldiers and a surging tide of people in a united front against the tyrannical monarch. The battle culminated in a resounding triumph, the king's own citizens and government officials throwing wide the palace gates, their faces alight with joyous welcome for the liberators. In a grim display, the heads of the king and queen were severed, then mounted on spikes outside the palace walls—a stark, visceral reminder for the generations to come: evil deeds, no matter how grand, would never escape judgment. The five friends, their bonds forged in conflict, then justly divided the land, each forging their own kingdom, guided by their own distinct policies.
For more than five hundred years, these five kingdoms blossomed in peaceful harmony. Until, that is, the tenth King of Tanzang ignited a savage war against his two neighboring realms. His ruthless ambition forced his once-allied kingdoms to unite in a furious coalition against him. Outnumbered and outmaneuvered, they drove the isolated king from his homeland, casting him into an unknown wilderness.
It was in this desolate, uncharted territory that fate intervened. He stumbled upon a mysterious people, the Kakungga, whose very existence was safeguarded by four hundred mages of unparalleled skill. With the weight of their respective destinies hanging heavy, the tenth King of Tanzang and the venerable leader of the Kakungga tribe knelt before Heaven, their voices echoing as they implored the Emperor of Heaven and his fellow Gods to bear solemn witness to their newly forged alliance.
Buoyed by the Kakungga's formidable aid, the tenth King of Tanzang swiftly reconquered his homeland, then relentlessly expanded his dominion. His ambition knew no bounds. He marched onward, conquering the entire northern region, until Tanzang swelled into the largest kingdom known to all, boasting a military might that struck fear into the hearts of nations. Across the land, many smaller kingdoms trembled, their leaders whispering anxieties about their own impending doom. Driven by shared terror, they began to weave alliances, a desperate pact to overthrow the tenth King of Tanzang and see his head mounted on a spike, just as his ancient predecessor's had been.
When whispers of this burgeoning rebellion reached the tenth King of Tanzang, a chilling fury gripped him. Yet, the sagacious leader of the Kakungga tribe calmly proposed a solution. With breathtaking power, the four hundred mages collectively conjured the largest river the world had ever seen, its magical currents embracing and encircling his entire kingdom. The tenth King of Tanzang then fortified his borders further, constructing two formidable military bases at the river's treacherous ends. Any who dared to invade Tanzang would first have to contend with these unyielding bastions. Many kingdoms, fueled by a thirst for conquest, attempted to breach Tanzang's defenses, only to shatter against its indestructible military might. Others, in their folly, tried to navigate the enchanted river itself, but they simply vanished, swallowed by its depths, never to be heard from or seen again.
But as his empire cemented its unassailable security, a new, insidious fear began to gnaw at the tenth King of Tanzang: the very mages who had secured his reign. With just a few whispered words, these four hundred beings could conjure a magical river of such immense scale. His burgeoning paranoia, coupled with his inherent, ravenous selfishness, drove him to commit the greatest crime known to mankind.
In the fifth year of their alliance, the tenth King of Tanzang unleashed his army upon the Kakungga, seizing them as hostages. Then, in an act of monstrous betrayal, he forced the four hundred mages who had helped him conquer his empire into the enchanted river they themselves had so miraculously created. The mages, their faces etched with horror and despair, drowned themselves in the churning waters, their last breaths exhaled with a profound, searing grudge against the tenth King of Tanzang. One by one, the soldiers then brutally shoved the remaining Kakungga people into the river. Those who resisted were mercilessly cut down and their bodies tossed into the crimson tide. The river ran red, choked with the countless bodies of innocent Kakungga, floating lifelessly upon its blood-stained surface.
The tenth King of Tanzang, in his relentless depravity, had intended to slaughter every single Kakungga. Yet, the anguished cries of the innocents pierced through the hardened hearts of his soldiers. They fell to their knees, their swords clattering, and refused to continue the horrific massacre. They pleaded with their king, their voices hoarse, to spare the innocent. Unwilling to completely shatter his soldiers' shaken faith, he begrudgingly relented, but only on one chilling condition: the Kakungga people could never again practice sorcery. From that day forward, whoever dared to practice sorcery in Tanzang would face immediate execution, a decree that included their entire family.
Terrified for their own lives and the futures of their children, the Kakungga people buried their ancient knowledge, ceasing all practice of sorcery. As the elders' generation faded into history, the new generations grew up as ordinary citizens of Tanzang, eventually shedding their ancestral name and proudly identifying themselves as Tanzanians. They lived in blissful ignorance, utterly unaware that they were once a mystical people, descended from beings of immense, forgotten power.
After he had so thoroughly eradicated the Kakungga, the tenth King of Tanzang, drunk on his own supremacy, audaciously proclaimed himself 'King of the Living'. During his twenty years of absolute rule, Tanzang swelled with stolen riches, becoming the wealthiest kingdom in all the land. He relentlessly extorted his neighboring kingdoms, their treasuries bled dry under the constant threat of his formidable army. Fearing for their dwindling wealth and the very survival of their own kingdoms, they gradually retreated, moving further and further south, leaving the isolated, rapacious king to his desolate, opulent throne.
One day, the tenth King of Tanzang strode into the sacred monastery of the Emperor of Heaven. With a sacrilegious sneer, he shattered the revered statue worshipped there, and in its place, with blasphemous arrogance, erected his own. He then made a chilling public decree, announcing himself as a divine equal to the Emperor of Heaven himself. In a cosmic surge of incandescent fury, the Emperor of Heaven responded, tearing open the fabric of reality to unleash a terrifying black hole, imbued with raw, destructive dark energy, its sole purpose to obliterate Tanzang. Many Gods and Fairies, their faces etched with sorrow, prostrated themselves, begging for mercy for the innocent people trapped beneath its shadow. But their desperate pleas did not sway his celestial heart.
After the black hole's terrifying formation, generations passed. Yet, across the heavenly realms, the Gods and Fairies continued to witness and hear the agonizing screams of the innocent trapped beneath its influence. Their collective despair finally moved them to action, prompting them to once more implore the Emperor of Heaven to break his devastating curse.
Inside the opulent, echoing chambers of the Heavenly Court, the Emperor of Heaven sat upon his gleaming silver throne, his gaze sweeping over the assembled Gods and Fairies. A heavy weight settled upon him; he knew with chilling certainty that since the black hole had been woven from his own very flesh and blood, it was utterly impossible for him to destroy it.
The Emperor of Heaven sighed, a deep, resonant sound. "I cannot destroy what has been created."
Gaia, the Mother of All Creation, stepped forward, her voice imbued with ancient wisdom. "Your Highness, there is only one bad grain in the rice bag. Do you intend to discard all the rice in that bag?"
The Goddess of Nature, her voice trembling with compassion, begged, "Although the former kings of Tanzang were cruel and ruthless, the kings who rule Tanzang today govern the land with peace. Please, have mercy on those innocent people who have done nothing wrong."
The God of Thunder, his booming voice softened by empathy, pleaded, "Your Highness, Tanzang has suffered greatly these past years. You, yourself, only allow thunder and rain once a year, making life excruciatingly difficult for innocent people. I know this is part of their ancestors' punishment, but if it continues, Your Highness will be as cruel as the Tenth King, letting innocent people bleed out, merely using different methods."
The Emperor of Heaven looked at the Gods and Fairies, his expression conflicted. He sighed again, a profound weariness in his tone. "When I created the black hole, I imbued it with a curse so potent that no one in this world can destroy it. For this reason, I can neither destroy it myself nor remove the curse."
The God of Four Seasons, ever practical, looked at the Gods in the hall. "So, we just need to find someone as strong as Your Highness, and let that God add another curse on top of yours."
The Emperor of Heaven considered this, his brow furrowed in thought. After a long moment, he conceded, "The God of Four Seasons is right."
The Goddess of Nature, her voice tinged with hope, asked, "Among the Gods and Fairies, whose strength can truly be compared with Your Highness's?"
The God of Thunder declared, his voice firm, "Gaia is the Mother of All Things. She alone possesses the power to place a second curse upon Your Highness's own."
The Emperor of Heaven's gaze fell upon Gaia, a flicker of understanding in his eyes. "I will leave this matter to you." He rose from his throne and descended the grand stairs, his voice echoing with a rare humility. "My Gods, as the supreme celestial emperor, I find myself at the mercy of my pride. I will reflect on my grave mistake before the Buddha for fifteen days."
After the momentous meeting, the Goddess of Mercy, the God of Thunder, and Gaia lingered in the vast, echoing stairwell of the Heavenly Court. The God of Thunder, his brow furrowed, asked, "How do we find someone not of this world?"
Gaia, her eyes holding ancient secrets, explained, "The Emperor of Heaven used the raw hatred of the Kakungga people's souls to forge the black hole. If a Kakungga is willing to help, the hatred within the black hole can be diminished, and its dark, destructive energy will be weakened."
The Goddess of Nature's voice was laced with despair. "It will be excruciatingly difficult to find a true-blood Kakungga, all thanks to the Tenth King's atrocities."
Just then, appearing with a graceful swirl from behind the other Gods, the Goddess of Beauty smiled, a knowing glint in her eyes. "I have a perfect vessel for you; he is a true-blood Kakungga."
The Goddess of Nature whirled, her voice sharp with surprise. "Really?"
The Goddess of Beauty's smile widened. "This person's soul has been utterly destroyed, but his vessel remains in perfect, pristine shape."
Gaia's expression brightened with determination. "We can replace the soul within the vessel and help fetch the white dragon tail to purify the land."
The Goddess of Beauty giggled, a sound that grated in the hallowed hall. "Gaia... You will have to find someone who shares the same first breath as him, unless his body utterly repels the soul." She swept past the Gods, her voice carrying a dismissive edge. "Even if you find someone who shares the same first breath with him, the individual might not be willing to share the fate of the empty vessel." She paused, turning to face the Gods still gathered behind her, her expression chilling. "The Emperor of Heaven cursed the ugly land of Tanzang. Why are you Gods and Fairies trying so desperately to save it from extinction? They deserve everything that is happening to them." With that, she departed, leaving a lingering chill in her wake, followed by the other Gods and Fairies.
Gaia, her resolve unyielding, declared, "I'll see what I can do. Mortal years are but fleeting blinks compared to ours here. I'm going to travel to the black hole now and place my curse."
The Goddess of Mercy offered a gentle, knowing smile. "Gaia, where there are living beings, there will always be someone who can break the spell."
Gaia looked at her fellow Gods, a glimmer of hope in her eyes. "I'll be back soon to let you know who I found."
The Goddess of Mercy replied, her voice soft but certain, "Best of luck."
With a sudden, powerful shimmer, Gaia materialized before the gaping maw of the black hole. She slid her right thumb over the tip of her middle finger, and a single, luminous drop of blood welled forth, dripping slowly into the swirling abyss. She uttered a solemn, binding curse: "I am Gaia, the Mother of All Creation. With this sacred drop of blood, I curse that a soul not of this world, willing to sacrifice without regret, shall be able to destroy this black hole, created from the Emperor of Heaven's own flesh and blood."
The black hole, an inky void moments before, suddenly ignited, an explosion of pure light that banished the darkness and illuminated the entire northern region. Below, the citizens of Tanzang stared up at the transformed night sky, their mouths agape in stunned awe and terror, whispering frantically to each other.
"What's that?"
"What's happening?"
The night watchmen guarding the palace were utterly paralyzed by the celestial light that now blazed in the dark sky. A chill of dread snaked through them as they wondered if they were under attack from some unfathomable, unknown enemy.
Among the ranks of the stunned watchmen, a young soldier and an older man stood side-by-side, silently watching the light with deeply puzzled expressions. They could see that their comrades were as utterly frightened and bewildered as they were.
U-ri, his voice hushed with foreboding, looked up at the night sky. "The star array is changing direction."
Yul, his hand instinctively gripping the hilt of the sword at his waist, turned to U-ri, his voice sharp with urgency. "What do you mean?"
U-ri's expression sank, a heavy weight in his eyes. He spoke with a grave, somber tone, "Tanzang will face many difficulties in the future."
Yul stepped forward, his command cutting through the terrified whispers. "Light the signal fires!"
The guards, snapping to attention, roared, "Yes, Captain!"
"Hold your ground!" Yul ordered, his voice ringing with authority.
The soldiers, their fear momentarily overshadowed by discipline, responded, "Yes, Captain!"
U-ri, his worry etched on his face, hesitantly asked, "Captain Bayarmaa, are we under attack?"
Yul sighed, the sound heavy with unspoken concerns. "Just a precaution." He looked at U-ri, then up at the blazing sky, his eyes narrowed. "But if we are under attack, it's something I've never seen before."