The Gilded Rot of the Human Empire
A majestic castle rose in the heart of the Human Empire, its imposing silhouette dominating the horizon. Its architecture, cold and arrogant, used the city's own dwellings as the first line of defense: narrow alleys, labyrinthine passageways, and towering walls that turned every corner into a deadly trap for invaders… or for any unfortunate inhabitant who fell into disgrace.
Enormous ramparts covered in defensive runes and mana cannons surrounded the entire perimeter. They protected the imperial elite not only from enemy kingdoms but also from the hordes of demonic beasts that, though far less numerous than in the Forest of Beasts, still prowled across the continent.
At first glance, the city seemed prosperous: crowded markets, ivory towers, and ceaseless trade. But it only took a closer look to uncover the rot that nourished its splendor. Systematic discrimination, brazen exploitation, and the poison of betrayal permeated every look, every word, and every transaction among its inhabitants. In the Human Empire, no one trusted anyone.
The only reason chaos did not consume the streets day after day was neither an orderly system nor any noble aspiration. Everything remained in balance because of a single man: someone so powerful that any attempt to defy him ended in the same fate.
The outer walls were covered with macabre warnings: hundreds of human heads perfectly preserved by preservation spells. Their faces, frozen in an eternal grimace of terror, stared at every traveler crossing the gates. It was almost grotesque how the imperial perimeter had long since run out of space for the skulls accumulated over the centuries.
Here, only those with enough power could laugh without fear. Even breathing had become a competition. If someone managed to defeat a demonic beast and find a mana stone"even a fragment"they could absorb it over several days to strengthen their body. This cycle of ambition and survival was the only true religion. No one had allies. Not even among the empire's highest ranks.
In the richly decorated hallways of the castle, a man walked with measured steps. His young face, though noticeably haggard, was framed by dark blond hair that had begun to lose its luster, streaked with gray strands that, for now, hid among the locks. He wore an immaculate white suit reinforced with golden armor pieces on his arms and legs. At his belt hung a golden-edged sword etched with ancient inscriptions and precious details, while a snow-white cape billowed behind him with each stride.
His blue eyes radiated annoyance, and his smile was as false as the polite greetings he distributed. Two diamond earrings gleamed with a supernatural light: a reminder that in this place, nothing was what it seemed. No ornament, no garment, lacked a lethal purpose.
When he reached a pair of massive doors guarded by two men clad in heavy armor, both bowed in fear before stepping aside to let him pass.
The young man crossed the threshold and entered the throne room. The chamber was a display of white marble, columns carved with scenes of conquest, and golden reliefs recounting centuries of supremacy and oppression. High above, an elevated throne dominated the space. Seated upon it was a man with almost ethereal white hair and gray eyes that seemed to pierce the soul. He watched with a mocking smile. His attire, similar to that of the newcomer, was adorned with even more golden filigree. A crown of runes hovered above his head, shining with a soft, dangerous glow.
"Draeven, it's good to see you. But… why do you look so haggard?" Emperor Kerovan asked, his tone anything but sincere.
Draeven placed a hand over his chest and inclined his head slightly.
"Emperor Kerovan," he replied in a measured voice.
"Spare me. You know none of the Demigods need to bow," the emperor retorted, lifting a hand dismissively as his gaze sharpened. "What happened?"
"Nothing important, sir. Just a minor mistake during my advancement," Draeven replied without altering his expression.
"Oh, really?" Kerovan tilted his head with studied interest. "For our genius to make a mistake… You must have overstrained your mana consumption. It happens. Don't torment yourself. Though… it seems you lost quite a lot."
"Don't worry, sir. It's easy to recover," Draeven replied, his smile meticulously rehearsed.
"Indeed… For our great prodigy, everything is child's play." The emperor narrowed his eyes slightly. "Though I imagine you'll need plenty of resources. Shall I send the general to fetch you some beast cores?"
His voice sounded courteous, but his gaze was laced with the promise of something far more sinister.
"That won't be necessary, sir. I've already given instructions to my men," Draeven answered, inclining his head just enough to maintain decorum.
"Perfect. I wouldn't want the disciple of the Holy Priest of our Human Confederation to grow weak while we're away. It would be… awkward to apologize to your master." Kerovan let the sentence drop with feigned laziness.
"Sir?" Draeven raised his gaze with a flicker of surprise. The mana in the chamber seemed to stir, heavy as an omen. Yet his smile did not waver. "Congratulations… You're about to reach that rank, aren't you?"
"It's still early. I don't wish to rush things," Kerovan replied, settling languidly into the throne. "If I failed, how could I face my peers with pride?" His tone shifted abruptly, turning sharp. "Let's get to the point. I called you because we've detected unusual movements in one of the demon kingdoms. I need you to investigate."
"Is it so serious that I must go personally?" Draeven asked, unable to conceal a hint of distrust.
"I don't know. But I prefer to be cautious. The others are… occupied with important matters. You're the only one available," the emperor replied with a smile full of hidden blades.
"Understood, sir. It will be an honor."
"Perfect. Go to the coast. It seems the demons are plotting something in the Sea of Death," Kerovan said calmly.
At the mention of that name, a faint spasm crossed Draeven's features, though he smoothed it away almost instantly.
"For the human race," he replied, pressing a fist to his chest before turning on his heel and walking away.
The moment the door closed again, a figure emerged from the shadows"a man covered in scars, clad in black armor, his presence seeming to swallow the light around him.
"Shall I keep an eye on him, sir?" he asked in a raspy voice.
"No. Without his master, he's nothing but another pawn. Two of the other four Demigods belong to me. The remaining ones are neutral. How foolish that Cardinal was to send his prodigy here, simply because he's a genius." Kerovan let out a low, mirthless laugh. "We've seen so many geniuses fall… Many by our own hands."
He leaned forward, resting an elbow on the arm of the throne, his voice turning into a poisonous whisper.
"For now, do nothing. He must still have some link to his master. If they were to find out, we might never be able to return home."
…
"Tsk… what stupidity," Draeven muttered as he left the castle, his gaze filled with disgust.
"Do you really think you'll become a god that easily?"
His footsteps echoed across the marble esplanade as he clenched his fists with barely contained rage.
"If it weren't for this damn charade of a system, I wouldn't be far from that throne right now. Just wait until I recover… Even as a Demigod, I'll show you why they called me the greatest genius of all time."
A cold glint flashed through his eyes as he regarded the silhouette of the imperial castle"so golden, yet rotten to the core.
"I defeated people far more powerful than you on my way up. Even before I agreed to become the old man's disciple."
After whispering those words, his figure vanished in a burst of light.
He materialized again in another castle, located at the far edge of the continent. This fortress, dark and silent, belonged to him. His white-and-gold banners fluttered with an air of veiled menace.
The Human Empire was divided into ten kingdoms. Four of them were ruled by Demigods, chosen from the elite of the elite. Draeven was one of those four. Above them all stood Emperor Kerovan"the most powerful Demigod in the Empire and the direct son of the current Supreme Emperor of the Human Confederation.
The other six kingdoms were held by the Ascended"warriors and mages so strong they had shattered the limits of mortal existence, though they had never managed to touch the divine fragment that turned a man into a legend.
The ranks of power that ruled this world were as rigid as they were merciless:
Gods: Immortals capable of manipulating mana with absolute freedom, altering the flow of time, or imposing new laws upon reality itself.
Demigods: Children of gods or humans who had reached an incomplete divinity. They enjoyed extreme longevity and power enough to make nations tremble.
Ascended: Warriors or mages who surpassed the human limit. They could annihilate entire armies with a single gesture and rival a Demigod under favorable conditions.
Sacreds: Masters of aura and runes, protectors of the Empire, wielders of secret techniques few could comprehend.
Masters: Experts who had perfected magic, aura, or martial arts to the point of leading guilds, elite squads, and entire cities.
Experts: Veterans on the verge of the next rank, with absolute control over their power and skills.
Apprentices: Those in training, who had already awakened their magical or martial potential.
Commons: The vast majority of the population, unable to manipulate mana or summon aura. Cannon fodder, servants, and victims.
Draeven raised his hand, and a bluish sphere of pure mana appeared, hovering over his palm. Its glow illuminated his haggard features.
"Everything in this damned world revolves around absorbing more power…"
It wasn't only about hunting demonic beasts and ripping out the mana stones stored in their cores. Almost any resource, if processed with the right techniques, could feed the insatiable system that decided who would ascend and who would die as nothing.
Mana stones, which varied in size and purity, were the most valuable resource. By absorbing them, a warrior would slowly strengthen their body, their soul, and their affinity with the elements. But that wasn't the only way. Certain rare plants could be distilled into elixirs that accelerated aura growth or expanded magical capacity. Crystalline minerals were melted down to forge weapons that resonated with the bearer's mana, and some fluids extracted from extinct creatures were drunk in the hope of surviving their venom and gaining a permanent increase in power.
It was a cycle as relentless as it was addictive: consume, grow, kill… repeat.
"I hope those idiots don't fail to find that flower," he said before stepping into his dwelling.