Year of Revelation, The Blackflame Calamity
That year, the heavens raged.
Demons surged from fissures in the earth's veins, devouring cities, mountains, and faith. Ninety percent of human kingdoms fell. The royal capital was slaughtered. The hundred allied races were nearly extinct. Every prayer seemed unable to pierce the sky-blotting black clouds.
Humankind, once proud to call themselves the spirit of all beings, had led civilization through wisdom and magic. But they had long forgotten—
Who first placed them on the path of evolution in the primordial chaos?
Who pulled them back from the abyss when they first met evil?
It was the Akkan.
No one knows where the Akkan came from.
Their skin like iron, their bones like stone, their blood pulsing with fire and lightning.
They can morph flesh into armor and harden blood into weapons.
Some say they are children of the earth. Others call them watchers banished by the gods.
They do not speak of their origins. They do not claim land.
But when disaster strikes, they rise in silence.
In the scorched north, they raised blood-walls, blades of their own flesh against the demonic tide.
Upon the frozen peaks, they summoned lightning, trading their lives for the dawn.
Humans came to call them the Protectors.
They call themselves simply—the Akkan.
The catastrophe lasted a hundred years.
At last, through the resistance of the Akkan and the efforts of a few human heroes, the source of the Blackflame was sealed. The demon tide receded. The world fell into a deathly silence.
On the ruins known as the Divine Realm, peace began to stir.
The surviving royals withered. The church collapsed. The nobles turned selfish.
In the chaos, a young man rose from the crowd.
He bore no noble blood, but with calm resolve and selfless leadership, he united the broken remnants of humankind.
His name was Rhine Aros.
It is said he was once a corpse-keeper on the borderlands, burying thousands by his own hands. In doing so, he came to understand death—and cherish life.
He led refugees to rebuild, erected guard towers, rallied mages and artisans to purify the infernal scars.
He never spoke of kingship or glory.
He only said:
"If I can lead your children into spring, then walk with me."
And spring came.
On the fiftieth spring, human ruins were reborn into a capital.
The people, of their own will, crowned Rhine as Guardian of the Divine Realm.
He accepted the crown but built no palace—he governed from the central hall, consulting with elders from all lands.
The Akkan representative was seated beside the throne, an equal voice in every decision.
Order returned to the Divine Realm—on the surface.
The Church reformed its laws. Corruption was purged. Opportunists exiled.
King Rhine advocated restraint and truth, outlawing greed and tyranny.
He personally inspected the borders, visited the Akkan, and passed the Coexistence Act to protect them from prejudice.
His conduct was flawless.
His reign, remembered as the most peaceful age.
That year, the Divine Realm celebrated again.
At the royal plaza, the Golden Knights marched in shining new armor—but all eyes were drawn to the lone figure descending from the throne: King Rhine.
His armor bore no trace of royal tradition.
It was dark gray interwoven with silver-blue, shimmering faintly like stars.
Pauldrons sharp like blades, a breastplate veined with energy.
His gauntlets flexed like living things. His greaves struck the ground with thunderous weight.
His sword was even stranger—
A broad, crescent-curved blade inscribed with intricate glowing runes, pulsing softly under sunlight.
Rhine offered no explanation.
In his speech, he simply said:
"This is our hope against the darkness to come."
The crowd erupted in thunderous cheers.
From that moment on, that nameless armor became the symbol of the Divine Realm.
But the Akkan envoy… gazed at the king in silence, brow furrowed.
There was something there—
A sensation beneath the surface, like a current under ice: familiar… yet foreign.
The true game had quietly begun.