In a world where fantasy was as common as breath, and creatures of myth walked the earth, humanity was a fragile minority. Once, they had been the dominant force, their civilization a beacon of strength and peace. But that was a very long time ago. An unexplainable cataclysm had shattered the world, birthing a swarm of new creatures from the depths of the earth. The surface, they claimed, was theirs.
The ensuing war was an unimaginable slaughter. Though outnumbered and outmatched, humans fought with a desperate ferocity, but in the end, their world was burned to ash. For years, humanity was a dying flame, a fading memory of what they once were. Yet, in every age, a hero would rise, a new spark of hope to fight back against the encroaching darkness.
Then came magic, a power that seemed to offer salvation. Initially, it was a rare and wondrous thing, but soon, its use became a crutch. Humans who once prided themselves on strength and hard work grew dependent on it. Whole kingdoms built their foundations on this new power, forgetting the old ways.
A man born in a poor village watched as magic transformed the world around him. His village, too poor for the expensive magi-healers and powerful mages, was left to rot. Why, he wondered, was no one coming to help them? Was the cost of a human life now measured in magical currency? He came to one conclusion: magic had corrupted everything.
He left his home, seeking aid. He saw wonders—people flying on sticks, dueling with bolts of arcane energy, healers who demanded more gold than he could ever earn. The same story followed him from town to town: a world consumed by corruption and a reliance on magic. His hope died a little with each passing day, until he stumbled upon a small, secluded town.
This was a place of a different kind. He saw humans working the land, their hands calloused and strong, their faces etched with honest labor. They grew herbs, not with magic, but with skill and knowledge passed down through generations. He asked for help, and to his surprise, they answered. They brought him in, fed him, and let him warm his bones by a roaring fire.
"You are… different," he said, looking at a strong young woman with fiery red hair. "I don't see flying objects or people. You don't use magic."
She let out a soft, knowing laugh. "Because we don't. We believe in the strength of our own hands, our own skills. But that can wait. You look exhausted. Rest. We'll talk more tomorrow."
He slept soundly in a warm bed, a comfort he hadn't known in years. When he woke, the villagers greeted him with smiles and kind eyes. A man laughed, "Seems those healing herbs are doing their job!"
"What is your cost?" he asked, bracing himself for the familiar demand.
They looked at each other and laughed that gentle, good-hearted laugh. "Your health is what matters," their leader, a wise old woman, said. "A human soul is a treasure itself."
Tears welled in his eyes as he begged, "My village… my people… they need help. Please. I have been gone too long. Take whatever you can find, though you'll be disappointed."
The old woman held his face gently. "Seeing my own kind healthy and strong is enough. Magic and those creatures from the deep… they have changed us. Go back to your village, child. I will send twenty of our most capable warriors and healers."
He left with twenty men on horseback, their saddlebags overflowing with herbs and medical supplies. When they arrived, the village was silent, a graveyard of corpses, each one brutally slain. He rushed to his home, only to find his parents, torn apart, their bodies impaled on spears. The men from the herb town were not surprised; they knew this was the work of non-humans.
From that day forward, the man swore an oath of vengeance. He would create an order to protect humanity, to fight against all who sought to destroy it. An order built on pure strength, skill, and knowledge, not magic or sorcery. Thus was born the Order Empire.
But even the greatest empires must fall. The combined forces of non-humans and magic-wielding humans waged a brutal war against the Order. They shattered the empire, but they could not erase its legacy. The idea of a united humanity lived on. It was not a downfall, but the seed of a new age.
Four hundred years after the fall of the Order, a new human civilization had taken root. In the heart of their lands stood the Royal Village, a hub where the nobility of all human kingdoms and empires gathered. Each sector of the village belonged to a different power—the Avalonians, the Arcadians, the Spartans, and many more.
In the Avalonian sector, within a family next in line for the throne, lived twins named Avon and Sara. Their eldest sister, Minerva, a beautiful woman with silk-blonde hair, was a fierce and skilled warrior.
It was a beautiful, peaceful morning. The twins were playing hide-and-seek in the family garden, their laughter echoing against the backdrop of the village walls. Inside, Minerva prepared breakfast.
"Breakfast is ready!" their mother called.
They gathered around the table for a meal of grilled chicken, carrot and tomato soup, and juice. Minerva, a warrior by trade but a joker at heart, made funny faces and acted like a goblin, making Avon and Sara burst into giggles. Their mother playfully hit her with a spoon, and Minerva apologized, continuing to entertain the children.
After they finished eating, Avon and Sara settled by the fireplace to read. Their mother and Minerva sat outside, enjoying the peaceful morning.
"Brother," Sara whispered, her voice soft.
"Yes?" Avon replied, not looking up from his book.
"Do you think… we will be like this forever?"
Avon hesitated. "I'm not sure… but Father said there's nothing to worry about. So, there's nothing to worry about." He patted her head, and she smiled, reassured.
Avon's eyes fell on a page with a vivid illustration of a city burning. He wondered why people always fought, and what the world would be like without anger or hatred. A beautiful place, he answered himself.
Suddenly, a massive explosion shook the house, rattling the windows and sending objects crashing to the floor. Minerva rushed to the window, her eyes widening in horror. A new kind of fear, the kind that heralds the end of the world, seized her. The sky above had shattered like glass, and an endless stream of flying creatures poured through the cracks. Below, humans on the walls launched fiery arrows, but it was a futile gesture.
Minerva backed away from the window, her face pale. "Mother! Avon! Sara! Hide! Get the weapons! Hurry!" she screamed.
Their mother rushed in, her eyes wide with fear. "What's happening?"
"No time to explain! Just go!" Minerva shouted.
Their mother raced to the armory. Sara cried out, "Avon!" and he ran to her, wrapping her in his arms. The sky turned a sickening red, and the air filled with the screams of a village under attack. "They're coming from the sky! Evacuate!" The sounds of battle were everywhere.
Their mother returned with armor and weapons, but instead of giving them to Minerva, she started barricading the door. "Minerva, the back door! Hurry!"
"On it!" Minerva said, and she ran to secure the other entrance.
The mother knelt before Avon and Sara, gripping their faces gently. "Listen to me," she said, her voice strained. "The sky has shattered. They're coming through."
"Who's coming?" Sara stammered.
"Something I hoped you'd never have to know about. Avon, you have to take care of your sister, do you understand? Now go. Go to Minerva. She'll tell you what to do."
The children ran to Minerva, clinging to her as she tried to calm them. The sound of something landing on the roof made their mother point up, silently urging them to be quiet. Then, a loud banging started on the main door.
Their mother raced to another room, preparing for a fight. They could hear female voices outside, laughing with a chilling, inhuman glee. "There's more room in here!" Avon cried, tears streaming down his face. "Please, Minerva! We can all fit!"
Minerva hugged him tight, her own voice cracking with emotion. "Avon, oh dear Avon... This place is only big enough for the two of you. Your mother and I will call for help, I promise. But you have to listen to me. I know that one day, you'll be stronger than me. And I need you to protect your sister, whatever the cost. Do you understand?"
Their mother returned, now in full plate armor, carrying a long iron sword. She handed Minerva a set of armor and weapons. "Minerva! We don't have much time!"
Minerva nodded, her eyes fixed on Avon. "These creatures are a threat. An enemy to humanity. You must stay away from them, as far as you can. But… if they ever touch your sister, even a single hair... show them no mercy. Whatever kind of creature they are. No mercy. Got it?"
"Got it," Avon said, his small voice filled with a new, dark resolve.
"Now go," Minerva said, pushing him toward the hole in the floor. As he climbed down, her voice, thick with tears, followed him. "You will be safe… we will meet again someday, my dear snowflakes… I love you a hundred times."
She closed the door, muffling the sounds of their muffled sobs and the growing clamor from outside.
Through a small gap, Avon saw the shadows of his mother and sister moving. The door splintered inward with a final, massive crash. Laughter, louder now, filled the room. His mother's voice rose above it all, a defiant roar: "Hold them back! Kill as many as you can!"
Avon hugged Sara, covering her head with a scarf. The clang of steel, the sounds of slashing flesh, and a woman's voice cut through the chaos: "Those two look delicious! Let's see how strong you are, pets!"
Minerva's voice shot back: "Bring it on, bitch!"
A powerful gust of wind magic slammed into them. Two heavy thuds followed as his mother and sister were thrown to the floor. "The armor… it was supposed to be immune!" his mother groaned in pain.
"Those cheap bastards!" Minerva cursed. "They sold us fake replicas!"
The enemy's voice, full of mocking laughter, responded: "Using magic in a sword fight? You creatures are disgusting!"
Another female voice chimed in: "We learned magic for a reason, to kick your human ass! Haha!"
"Yet somehow we're still winning every time," Minerva countered, getting back on her feet and charging.
But a powerful blow struck her, then another hit their mother. They both collapsed, their screams of pain echoing in the room. Avon and Sara could hear them struggling, the sounds of metal being torn apart, and the sickening laughter of multiple female voices.
"When you grow up… avenge us!" Minerva screamed.
The screams continued for what felt like an eternity. Eight long hours of pain and laughter, until finally, a profound silence fell over the house.
"Phew, that was a delicious meal," a voice said. "What should we do with them? Turn them or kill them?"
"Kill them," came a chorus of voices.
Avon, peering through the hole, saw them dragging something out. Blood dripped down, and a single drop fell onto his forehead, just above his right eye.
Sounds of flesh being torn and bone being splintered filled the night. It was a long, horrifying night.
"What a tasty night it was," one of the creatures said.
"This world seems more intense than the last one," another replied.
"Don't underestimate them," a third said, her voice more serious. "Didn't you see how those two fought? They killed three of us like we were nothing. And those were just normal noblewomen. The knights outside are even worse."
"You're overthinking it," a fourth voice scoffed.
"No," the serious voice said. "I have a bad feeling. As if we've done something very wrong."
She knelt down, her face appearing in the gap. She saw the small hole and knew who was inside. She smelled them.
"I am deeply sorry," she whispered. "I was too late to do anything. On their behalf, I promise I will take care of you. And one day, I shall deliver the vengeance you seek. Now, rest well."
She exhaled a soft, white smoke that drifted down to Avon and Sara. They breathed it in, and their eyes closed, falling into a deep, dreamless sleep.
Avon woke, feeling as if days had passed. A faint light from the gap above shone down. Sara was still sleeping, holding him tight. He waited patiently for her to wake up, listening to the birds singing outside and wondering what would happen now.
When Sara finally opened her eyes, she simply said, "Morning." After all that had happened, her casual tone was startling.
"Morning, sister," Avon replied.
"What now?" she asked.
"Now we leave this hole… I don't know."
They climbed out, Avon's heart pounding. The room was a scene of carnage, but there were six dead creatures on the floor, their bodies twisted and broken, with horns and wings. He saw the blood trail and the shredded armor his mother and sister had worn. He followed it outside, Sara right behind him.
The entire village was in ruins, burning. Avon stopped, his gaze fixed on something he could never forget. He removed his hand from Sara's eyes, and she saw it too.
Their mother and Minerva, torn apart, their bodies impaled on demon-like spears. Sara cried, clutching what was left of her mother's head. Avon knelt before Minerva's body, her beautiful face untouched despite the mutilation.
"I love you, sis," he whispered, his voice cracking. "I swear, when I get big, I will get them for you."
He kissed her head, then looked out at the burning village, at the flying creatures, the breached walls, and the countless bodies of both humans and monsters. His sister came to him and put a hand on his shoulder. "We shall bury them," she whispered.
Before they could, a woman landed in front of them with a loud thud. She was breathtakingly beautiful, with devil-like wings, purple eyes, and skin as white as bone. She wore powerful armor and held two massive blades of black steel, shimmering with dark purple energy.
Avon picked up a broken spear and pointed it at her, his eyes blazing with rage. Sara stood beside him, clutching a small knife.
The woman smiled, a chilling expression. "This anger… this hatred… I love it."
"Stay back!" Avon screamed.
"Oh? So threatening. What are you going to do, stab me?" she mocked, raising her blades.
Suddenly, her face changed. The smirk faded, replaced by sadness, a look of genuine human emotion. She threw her blades to the ground. "So brave… so beautiful," she said softly. "There is no need for blood. You both will serve a greater purpose. You deserve love, not this." She gestured to the burning village. "Come, I will show you something better."
The twins stood their ground.
"I understand what happened here," she continued. "But I also promised to take care of you."
Avon remembered her voice. "You… you were the one who talked to me?"
"Indeed," she said.
"Then why didn't you… why didn't you kill us?"
"There was no need," she replied. "You don't have to worry about anything. I apologize."
Before they could respond, a beam of white light shot from her hand. They fell to the ground, fast asleep. The woman walked to them, holding them close as if they were her own children. She looked at the bodies of their mother and Minerva, a tear rolling down her cheek.
"I love you a hundred times," she whispered, the same words Minerva had said, "so be it."
She raise her wings and fly away with the children in her hands ....
Chapter 1 - the attack
Chapter 2 - The friendly Succubus