Long ago, before the concept of time held meaning, in an age where harmony reigned and peace wrapped the cosmos like a warm blanket, there existed a divine being—a god unlike any other. With infinite wisdom and compassion, he shaped the world from nothingness, breathing life into the void. Yet he did not act alone. By his side stood radiant beings known as angels, embodiments of his will and protectors of creation.
But even in a perfect realm, perfection carries a flaw.
The god, in his boundless love, desired more than obedient followers. He yearned to create life that could choose—beings with free will, capable of making decisions, both right and wrong. He envisioned a world of living creatures, each able to feel joy, sorrow, pain, and love, just as he did. And so, the great work began.
From celestial breath and divine thought, he formed Earth—a canvas of endless skies, deep oceans, and vibrant lands. Upon it, life flourished, evolving and growing under the god's guiding hand. But as light spread across the universe, so too did the shadows.
Among the angels was one who grew discontent.
He was once a bright star in the heavens, gifted with beauty and power. But within his heart, a seed of pride began to sprout. He questioned the god's motives, his visions, and his trust in fragile mortal beings. This angel, whose name would one day strike fear across all creation, was called Satan.
Satan desired power—not the power to protect, but the power to rule. Quietly, he whispered to the others, planting doubt and ambition like poison in their minds. "Why should we serve blindly?" he asked. "Why should mortals, flawed and weak, be granted freedom while we, the perfect, remain bound?"
And the angels listened.
A division formed in Heaven. Where once unity stood, now ambition stirred. Some angels remained loyal, hearts steadfast and clear. Others began to hunger for dominion, for change, for power. What started as murmurs soon grew into defiance. And from defiance—war.
Heaven trembled.
The god watched with sorrow as the skies above turned into a battlefield. Satan, now exploted with pride and wrath, led the rebellion. His heart overflowed with the Seven Vices: Lust, Gluttony, Greed, Sloth, Wrath, Pride, and Envy. His forces clashed with those who embodied the Seven Virtues: Wisdom, Kindness, Willpower, Justice, Fearlessness, Compassion, and Faith.
As the conflict raged on, the god made a painful decision. He summoned the Flame of Infinity, a sacred fire that burned not flesh, but spirit. It would cleanse all that was corrupted.
With a heavy heart, he cast Satan and his followers into the flame.
But even divine punishment has limits. Satan, now twisted and monstrous, endured the fire. Heaven itself could not contain him. The god, realizing that evil could not be unmade, chose instead to divide his realm.
Heaven was split.
One half remained pure and radiant, the other scorched by eternal fire—a place of torment now known as Hell.
Time drifted onward.
Two great gates came into being: the Gate of Heaven, and the Gate of Hell. When humanity was created, they were given a choice. Each soul, upon birth, would carry the freedom to listen—to the voice of God, or to the whispers of the Devil.
Yet Satan did not give up.
He plotted, waited, and wove a curse unlike any other. A curse so powerful, it required all of his strength. It would close the Gate to Heaven forever, cutting off God's creation from his love.
In the final battle, as light clashed with darkness, Satan invoked the curse. God, watching his creation on the brink of damnation, made a final sacrifice. He reached deep within himself and pulled free his very heart—his essence, his soul—and cast it into the world of man.
The heart shattered.
Seven fragments fell across the Earth, each finding a home within the hearts of seven humans. These fragments became known as the Seven Godly Traits, the last hope of creation.
And so, a new story began—not of gods or angels, but of humans.
Each chosen soul, unknowingly carrying a piece of the divine, would shape the fate of the world.
The war between light and shadow had only just begun
Fragments of Light
Between Dreams and Shadows
I was born in an ordinary home, with kind parents and one brother.
We weren't rich. We weren't poor. Just... normal.
We laughed. We argued. We ate dinner at the table every night.
To most people, that probably sounds boring. But to me, it was perfect.
As a child, I had endless energy.
I would run, climb, talk, draw—anything and everything.
But what I loved most... was imagining.
My mind never stopped creating.
Worlds.
Heroes.
Battles.
I dreamed of impossible skies, ancient monsters, cities made of glass and stars.
And I wasn't alone in those dreams.
There were always six others with me—friends whose names I couldn't remember when I woke up, but whose voices I somehow knew. We fought together. Laughed together. Saved entire worlds together.
But at night... everything changed.
The dreams weren't just dreams. They were something darker.
Twisted. Fractured. Cold.
It was like falling into another place. A place where the rules of life didn't apply.
Where the sky bled ink. Where shadows whispered your name.
And every night, I found myself there—without fail.
Trapped in a world of fear that made no sense.
Even as a child... I knew something was wrong.
At school, I talked about it.
I told the other kids about the monsters we fought. The towers we climbed.
How I wielded a sword made of light.
How we sealed away something ancient and evil... even though I didn't know what it was.
They laughed at me.
Said I was weird.
Crazy.
Stupid.
I got bullied for years.
But honestly... I barely noticed.
I was too deep in my world.
The world where I felt real.
By third grade, it was obvious—I wasn't the smartest.
My grades were awful.
I failed nearly every test.
I couldn't focus.
I didn't care.
My teachers called me a dreamer. My parents just smiled and told me to keep trying.
So I did.
Again.
And again.
And again.
Eventually... I reached average.
Not top of the class, not bottom.
Just... enough.
But the dreams never stopped.
And deep down, I knew they weren't just my imagination.
I tried harder.
If dreams weren't real, then the real world had to matter.
I forced myself to focus.
To fit in.
To chase what everyone else seemed to want—grades, approval, normalcy.
And I kept failing.
But each time I fell, I got back up.
Harder.
Stronger.
More determined than before.
Eventually, I started to get it.
I began to learn how the world worked.
How people thought.
What I had to do to survive in it.
And when I grew just a little wiser...
I realized something.
This wasn't fantasy.
This was reality.