The Empire of Miraphin – Year 461 AD
Her footsteps crept through the thick darkness, where the air was unnaturally cold, as if time itself had frozen in this place. The ground beneath her feet was slippery, and every step on the ancient stones echoed faintly, slicing through the stillness like a sword through mist. She felt the cold seep into her body, crawling into her bones, as if something within the tunnel refused to let her pass easily.
Pain coursed through her with every step, but it had become part of her condition—a heavy burden she'd grown used to carrying. The two arrows the enemy had lodged in her back hadn't stopped bleeding, and the blood that stained her jewel-adorned clothing mingled with the damp scent saturating the place. Her blood dripped slowly onto the stones, as though history itself was watching her in silence, awaiting the inevitable end.
But in the heart of that darkness, there was something else—something mysterious that stirred both anxiety and awe within her. A weight surrounded her, as if the very air had thickened, pressing on her chest, and the world around her was slowly narrowing. She reached out, running her hand along the cold walls, cautiously feeling her way forward, her senses on high alert for the unknown.
"...still... alive?" she whispered to herself, unsure if she was asking herself or the space around her—as if the answer to that question would unveil the secret of the tunnel. Her heart pounded faster, her whole body trembling—not just from pain, but from the terrifying sense that something was following her in the dark… something watching her, chasing her.
Suddenly, she felt something strange. As she neared the end of the tunnel, the weight on her chest grew heavier, as if she had come too close to something that should never be found. A faint light flickered in the distance, but it was unlike any other light. She felt drawn to it in a way that defied reason, like an invisible hand was pulling her forward.
The path was completely dark, yet far ahead, that faint glow shimmered, as if the tunnel was swallowing everything around her. And still, that light gleamed with an eerie intensity. Something inside her whispered that getting closer to it would reveal something that could change everything.
Her swollen eyes held a relentless resolve. Even amid the pain, she moved forward without hesitation. A strange sensation stirred inside her, as if an unseen force was pushing her onward. Each step brought her closer to a dream she had long thought impossible. She was no longer just a woman searching for something tangible—she was chasing her destiny, something hidden since the dawn of time.
Then, she stopped.
Before her was an opening in the rocks—dark, but glowing faintly with thin strands of light, as though it were calling to her. It whispered deep within her soul, beckoning her closer.
Her steps were heavy, hesitant—each one forced, yet necessary. But with every inch she moved forward, something inside her began to stir. A sense of life, as though the very fibers of her being were beginning to ignite.
At last, she crossed the threshold—and found herself face-to-face with the great cavern. The ground was blanketed in thick mist, the air heavy and suffocating, yet carrying an unexpected touch of enchantment.
And in the center of the cave… was something. Something that words could not describe. A massive essence, radiating a mysterious gray glow, pulsing and shining like a living heart. Misty lights swirled around it in bizarre motions, dancing in the darkness like trapped souls.
"The Essence… it's… real!," she whispered, barely able to push the words through her lips.
But the words caught in her throat. The truth was staring back at her. The Essence she had believed to be nothing more than legend—a dream beyond reach—was now in front of her. And it was real.
Everything inside her began to shake. Her joy, her terror, her awe—all fused into one monstrous emotion tearing at her heart.
But that wasn't all. There was another feeling—a strange pull, as if this Essence was a key to something greater, something she had yet to understand. Something that would change everything.
She stepped forward—then again—slowly, as if walking on the edge of consciousness. She was like someone half-unconscious, but in a state of euphoria. Her flowing white hair trailed behind her like a thin thread linking her to another world.
Each step brought her closer to the Essence's strange gravity, and the sensation of power surged through her veins. The blood still flowing from her wounds mixed with that ecstasy, and the pain on her face gave way to a deep longing.
Then suddenly, without warning, she lunged toward the Essence—as if no longer able to resist the desire to absorb it… to possess it. But she had no idea that this moment was the beginning of something entirely different… something from which there would be no return… something that would change her fate—and humanity's—forever.
State of Waves – Year 2025 AD
The school bus arrived in the town of Dreamcrown under a pale sunlight filtering through the old buildings. A group of students stood in a stone courtyard at the center of the town, which was once the beating heart of the Kingdom of Arcadia. The air was thick with the scent of the past—the smell of ancient stone mingling with the soft aroma of the books the students carried under their arms.
There stood a young man in his mid-twenties, his thin body bearing the clear marks of exhaustion, as though weighed down by years of toil and hard work. He wore a simple white linen shirt, slightly pale from fatigue, and light brown trousers suited to his role as a tour guide. Around his neck hung a worn-out name tag on a thin string, its faded writing barely legible: "Robert, Tour Guide."
His face radiated a humble liveliness, but under his eyes lingered dark circles—proof of many sleepless nights spent reading and preparing for his tours. His short blonde hair was slightly tousled, as if the wind had played with it during his strolls through the ruins. His blue eyes—despite the fatigue—shone with a quiet enthusiasm as he spoke about the ancient inscriptions on the walls.
In his right hand, scarred from years of fieldwork, he proudly pointed to artifacts, while his left held an old notebook, filled with sketches and notes he had written himself about each relic he encountered. His voice, though tired in tone, carried a deep passion and knowledge, as though he were trying to share with those around him a piece of the ancient soul of these ruins.
Robert: "Welcome to Dreamcrown, where unforgettable chapters of history were written! Here, among these alleys that have witnessed the darkest days and the greatest victories, we return to the past—to the glorious Kingdom of Arcadia."
A voice rose from one of the students in the front row, curiosity lighting up her face.
Jennifer: "Arcadia? Isn't that our town?"
A faint smile appeared on Robert's lips, and he nodded in admiration.
Robert: "Well done, Jennifer, you're right. But what we know today as the city of Arcadia was once part of a vast ancient kingdom that ruled this land. Arcadia stood under the banner of a mighty empire called Miraphin. But, as with all empires… glory does not last forever."
He paused for a moment, staring at a stone plaque depicting a map of the old empire, then continued in a deeper voice.
Robert: "When the last emperor, Emperor Nervus Trajan, died… the empire fell into chaos. Leaders and kings gathered to choose a successor, and the choice fell upon King Kalion Steelheart. There was hope that he would reunite the empire. But… it didn't last long."
His voice lowered slightly, and a shadow of mystery passed through his eyes.
Robert: "One mysterious night… Kalion died under unknown circumstances. Some said it was a conspiracy, others claimed he had always been ill. But the truth? No one really knows."
Suddenly, a soft chuckle pierced the silence at the back of the group—like a stab in the dark. Everyone turned toward the sound to see a tall man standing in front of one of the large stone plaques displaying an ancient map of the kingdom. His back was straight, as if bearing the weight of countless years, silently observing the plaque. He didn't look like a regular visitor—he wasn't taking pictures, nor was he following the guide like the others.
He looked… strange. His shimmering white hair under the soft sunlight hinted he was no mere passerby. Yet most of his features were hidden behind dark sunglasses and a shadowed mask, as if he didn't want to be recognized—or leave any trace.
Confusion spread among the students, while Robert sighed deeply and chose to ignore the incident, returning to his talk.
Robert: "Anyway… after his death, his loyal deputy Astrius Eugene took the throne. He ruled for decades, and his reign was prosperous, bringing peace and stability. But, as they say… nothing lasts forever. A few years after the emperor's death, the empire collapsed once again, splitting into scattered kingdoms, each vying for dominance over the others."
He pointed to one of the carved maps, where the borders were torn like a tattered cloth, then gestured toward the eastern region...
Robert: "In the East lies Idrisania, capital of the Miraphin Empire—once the richest and most fortified city on Earth. Its ambitious ruler, Kilibra Rylov, managed to wrest its independence, thanks to its boundless resources and formidable army, transforming it into a kingdom of its own.
But Kilibra Ryogan didn't stop at declaring Idrisania's independence. He launched swift, calculated expansion campaigns—like lightning. One by one, neighboring cities fell under his control: some by fire and steel, others through cunning politics and masterful diplomacy. By his seventh year on the throne, his new kingdom encompassed three prosperous realms, six fortified cities, and vital trade routes that once served as lifelines to the aging Empire. Idrisania was no longer a mere detached capital… it had become the heart of a rising super-kingdom, one that echoed the glory of ancient empires and blossomed with a power that threatened the very existence of those that came before it."
Yet in that era, noble families began to vanish—one after another. Abandoned palaces, desolate lands, and clans that once stood mighty were reduced to ash. And not just in that kingdom… but all across the world.
And all of it… was because of one man."
Robert: "…Nightfear." The name that terrified nobles and drove them behind the walls of their palaces. A ghost haunting kingdoms… until someone rose from Idrisania itself. The one who ended his bloody reign…
Duke Arcadius."
Silence fell among the students, as if they were witnessing the past come to life—seeing the fires of battle, hearing the clash of swords, and feeling the blood that carved the line between victory and defeat. Amidst the destruction, a shadow emerged—a man whose sword dripped with the remains of a night he had torn apart… ending an age of terror that had lasted for decades.
Robert raised his gaze to the students and spoke with solemn reverence:
Robert: "It was an unexpected victory, but history doesn't only immortalize heroes… it gives them names worthy of their deeds."
He approached one of the ancient stone carvings—a relief of a man clad in ornate armor, holding a massive sword. Beneath his feet were etched two words:
Arcadius Nightover
Robert traced his fingers over the letters, as though awakening an old memory, then turned to the students.
Robert: "In that era's culture, names weren't mere labels… they were honors granted to those who forged glory, passed down as eternal legacies. Those famed for valor in war carried names and titles that embodied their heroism—not just for themselves, but for their children and their children's children. A name became an oath, flowing through their blood."
He paused again, as if contemplating the weight of that ancient tradition, then continued:
Robert: "Thus, he was no longer just Lord Arcadius, but Arcadius Nightover, the man who ended a nightmare that had long loomed over the kingdom. And to immortalize this triumph, King Kilibra ordered the name of his kingdom changed to Arcadia—a tribute to the great commander, ensuring that his memory would be forever engraved in the name of the land he had freed."
The students stared in silence at the carving, as if rewriting the story in their minds—feeling the weight of names that were not merely words… but living titles, pulsing with the stories of those who bore them.
Robert took a deep breath, as though the tale had weighed heavily on him, then continued.
Robert: "The royal rule endured for generations… until the day of change. The day of the Great Revolution. When the man who changed everything appeared... Jack Conner."
His voice rose with intensity, as if the events still burned in his memory.
Robert: "Jack Conner led the revolution that toppled the monarchy and proclaimed the birth of the modern Republic—Vivze. Yet, even then, he chose not to erase history. He named the new capital Arcadia… so that the memory would live on in the minds of generations to come."
His voice faded with the evening breeze, and silence once again enveloped the students, as though they had truly traveled through time and witnessed history with their own eyes.
He led them among the statues and carvings, pointing toward the first statue—of a proud man crowned with a majestic aura.
Robert: "This is King Blatir Vanheim, one of Arcadia's rulers, a man who fought countless battles to preserve the kingdom's prosperity!"
But before he could continue, a voice rose from among the students. A boy with shining blond hair and glowing red eyes raised his hand without waiting for permission, and spoke with firm confidence:
"You're mistaken. Blatir wasn't a king—he was a duke who seized the throne through blood. He didn't defend the kingdom… he conquered it."
Silence gripped the group for a few seconds. The guide stared at the boy in surprise. Hesitating, he opened his notebook and flipped through the pages in search of the fact. After a moment, he sighed deeply and, trying to mask his unease, said:
Robert: "…You're right. Well done, boy."
But then he swiftly moved toward the student, grabbed his arm tightly, and pulled him aside from the group. Leaning in so their eyes met, he spoke in a low, but firm voice:
Robert: "Listen carefully, boy. People don't want the truth… they want the stories that make them feel safe. Don't interrupt me again."
He patted the boy's head, then returned to the group, leaving the student standing where he was, his expression a blend of anger and amusement. Slowly, the boy turned back to the statue, reading the name engraved beneath it. He stared for a few seconds… then turned his back and rejoined his group.
The guide resumed reciting the official version of events until the tour ended. Raising his hands, he announced in a tired voice:
Robert: "That's all. Unfortunately, there's no time left for more tales of the old kingdom… my shift is over."
He stepped back a few paces, gave the students one last look—they seemed disappointed—and waved before vanishing into the noise of passersby and the bustling square. The students remained still for a moment, exchanging glances, as if they hadn't received the answer they were hoping for.
As the tour concluded, the students gathered at the site's entrance, where the guide offered a formal farewell. Some were discussing what they'd heard, others looked exhausted and eager to return.
The supervisor's whistle blew, signaling the end of the trip. One by one, the students began boarding the school bus—tired footsteps, the rustling of seats being adjusted.
On the left side, by the window, sat the boy who had spoken to the guide. His eyes were closed, as if replaying the events in his mind. The street lights reflected in his crimson eyes, giving them a beautiful glow amidst shifting shadows.
Beside him sat his friend—a short-haired boy with bright blue eyes, his face brimming with wonder he couldn't quite conceal.
"Wow, Damian! You corrected the guide! How did you know that? Did you read about it before we came?"
Damian didn't open his eyes. He merely tilted his head slightly and replied in a calm voice, tinged with something mysterious:
Damian: "My father told me last night."
His friend's eyes widened: "Really?!"
Damian nodded slowly, then added after a moment's silence:
Damian: "I saw him holding an interesting book he once told me about…
He said it holds myths, truths, and lost histories—including the real story of Arcadia."
His friend remained stunned for a moment, then smiled and said: "Cool! Your dad sounds like he knows a lot."
But Damian didn't respond.
Instead, he turned his head to the window, staring out into the dark sky.
There was something in his eyes… something he hadn't yet revealed.
It was a quiet night, snow falling gently beyond the room's window, dim lights reflecting warmly inside.
Damian and Eileen sat on the bed, their excited eyes fixed on the top shelf of their father's desk, where a collection of old books with ornate covers rested.
Eileen eagerly reached toward them, then turned to their father and asked: "Dad, can you tell us a story from one of those shiny books?"
Their father chuckled softly as he rose from his chair, replying with a warm tone: "Of course. You may choose one."
Damian rushed forward excitedly, eyes gleaming as he pointed to one book on the shelf: "That one, Father! Tomorrow, we're going on a school trip to explore the ruins of the old town—Dreamcrown. I want to know the full story of the Kingdom of Arcadia!"
The father nodded, then carefully pulled the book from its place. Its cover bore a glowing blue gem… and the shadow of a young boy trapped within.
Damian stared at the cover with curiosity, his brow furrowed: "Hmm… What does this mean?"
The father paused, gazing at the book in his hands with a mysterious expression, as if it held secrets no one could fully understand. Silence filled the room until he breathed slowly, then smiled faintly—as if unlocking a hidden truth.
He whispered: "This…" Then looked at them deeply: "This isn't just a book about the ancient kingdom of Arcadia… It's a window into something far greater. It holds secrets deeper than the fall of a forgotten empire.
Secrets about the entire world—about life… death… and what lies beyond. This book isn't just a story—it's a crossroads between what we know… and what we don't."
Their hearts beat faster, and a sense of awe settled deep within them—as if those words were an invitation to an adventure they didn't yet understand.
The father continued: "The book tells of the 'Essence of Life'… and Elloria… and how they triggered a chain of events that changed the world."
He paused again, then added in a quiet voice, heavy with meaning: "In a fantasy world that rose from the ashes of fallen empires, where past and present intertwine… lies a kingdom called Arcadia.
Amid conspiracies of noble houses, secret councils, and powers born of a fallen, unknown meteor… people find themselves trapped in a spiral of deception and betrayal.
Between a bloody legacy, a silent revolution… and a world teetering on the edge of collapse."
He looked at his children, then added with a deeper tone: "And through the chaos… a boy emerges. His name is Ethan. A boy who sought vengeance with burning resolve. But his journey was marked by shadows of blood and sacrifice. With every breath, drops of his tragedy fell—until they led to a bitter end.
In his final pain, he tried to protect those he loved, carrying the burden of bloody days on his shoulders."
A moment of silence passed before the father continued, his eyes fixed on the candlelight dancing across the aged cover: "A boy who lived his life in the storm of pain, with suffering as his constant companion. His wounds became tales of life he bore with pride and strength… A boy who watered the flower of revenge—but with every petal that fell, he lost a piece of his soul. Until all warmth vanished from him, as if it faded with every breath of vengeance."
Damian and Eileen exchanged wide-eyed glances as their father turned the first page, saying softly:
"And so… our story begins…"