Long ago, before humans came to be, Mother Earth created Her children — the Immortals.
These beings had the power to shape the elements and create life.
Despite their great power, they were granted free will.
Through that will, they developed new skills, harnessed new powers, and formed clans.
Though they differed greatly, peace and prosperity reigned among them.
However, in time pride took root — giving rise to envy and greed.
One Immortal, Azazel, wished to rule all — even the Mother who had created him.
His voice was soft. His words, sweet. His smile, inviting.
He spoke of destiny, of order, of rising to claim what was "rightfully" theirs.
Many were swayed by his message, yet others saw through his deception.
Those who saw through his deception were led by one called The Elder — the first of all Immortals.
With each passing day, the rift between them widened, and each Immortal was compelled to choose a side.
Debates gave way to quarrels, quarrels to rage, and rage to the clash of arms.
Thus, a war of unimaginable scale began.
The destruction was immense. The ground split apart, birthing new islands. Rivers vanished, and new waters carved paths through the broken earth. Mountains crumbled to valleys, and valleys rose to mountains.
In the chaos, new life took shape.
Some were wild and directionless — beasts born of pure power.
These became the monsters: feral, instinctual, dangerous.
Others were formed with thought and will.
These were The Shaped — beings who had reason and could speak.
As the war raged on, the world drowned in its own chaos.
The Immortals, who once nurtured life, unmade it with their hands.
Seeing the ruin around him, the Elder resolved to end the war. So, he confronted Azazel in a final battle.
They met atop Mount Altheren and clashed for three days and nights, their power so great that the mountain split and sank, forming a deep valley.
In the end, the Elder triumphed — and Azazel fell.
But victory came at a terrible cost.
For the first time in all of creation, Immortals had died.
Their brilliant light faded, buried in the arms of their Mother.
Grief and sorrow filled Mother Earth.
She stripped all Her children of their powers.
She took the twelve core aspects of their strength and sealed them into gemstones — each one holding the essence of a gift once given.
Without their power, the Immortals became humans — fragile, mortal, and limited.
But the gems remained — scattered across the world, each hidden within a trial born of the power it contained.
These trials came to be known as Gem Dungeons.
And so the legend says:
"Anyone who finds all twelve gems shall awaken as an Immortal once more."