Filed by Prince Dimiour of Nérou
(Age 8. Unevolved.)
I didn't write this to be clever.
I wrote it because people keep dying.
Not just in the swamps. Not just in the wilds.
Inside the walls, too.
They die training. They die scouting.
They die trying to become something more than human—
—because if we don't evolve, we go extinct.
That's not drama. That's math.
Most people still think we're safe here—close enough to JinWin City to borrow its shadow.
They build walls, breed soldiers, pretend the world outside still follows rules.
It doesn't.
When the Veil tore, mana bled into the world like a fever that never broke.
It didn't just twist beasts—it rewrote the laws of life.
The animals were first. Then the plants. Then everything else.
Some grew stronger.
Some grew smarter.
None stayed the same.
Humans were'nt an exception, our place on the food chain dropped significantly.
Now the map belongs to whoever survives the constant conflict long enough to claim it.
Kingdoms collapsed as communication failed. Governments fell.
Fortresses turned into islands of noise in an ocean of silence.
Everywhere else, the cycle of life did what it always does—
it adapted. Faster than us.
That's the truth people don't want to hear:
evolution doesn't wait for permission.
The world is full of mana-born species now.
Some are clever. Some are feral.
All are dangerous.
We've learned their names the hard way.
THE WORLD AFTER MANA
The Ankilia.
Four or five feet tall—ants that learned to walk, think, and build.
They work like a single mind, and they learn fast.
They study ruins and repurpose weapons.
If they ever decide humanity isn't useful anymore, we're done.
The Gallok.
The swamp's new royalty.
Scaled, patient, and terrifyingly organized.
They don't kill for hunger—they kill for structure.
There's talk of a leader among them. A Floodscale.
If that's true, we're not fighting monsters anymore. We're fighting a civilization.
The Crelins.
Once tiny tarsiers. Now nightmares with claws.
They hunt in packs and mimic human voices to lure survivors.
Don't answer.
Don't listen.
If they find you, they won't eat you—they'll erase you.
And those are just the names people remember.
There are worse things in the woods—things that don't even have language left.
Nérou still stands because of my father and his legends.
JinWin City still burns bright because it's drunk on its own strength.
But light always draws the dark.
And the dark is learning.
So I started cataloging.
Because if we can't outfight them, maybe we can outthink them.
This Codex isn't a story—it's a record.
How the world ended, and how to live in what's left.
You won't find hope in here, just information that might buy you another day.
If you're reading this, remember:
we are not extinct yet.
But we're on the list.
— Prince Dimiour of Nérou
Codex Author. Veil-Touched. Still alive, for now