CHAPTER 1: THE BIRTH OF CALAMITY
The sky did not simply fall; it was systematically dismantled.
For seven long years, the firmament above the world of mortals bled a terrifying, radiant gold. The Gods—transcendental entities of pure light and indifferent cruelty—had finally descended from their celestial thrones. They did not come to rule, nor did they come to judge. They came to prune the garden of existence, and the Scarlet Eternal Tribe was the weed that had grown too tall, too strong, and far too close to the sun.
The Scarlet Eternal were not a mere collection of people; they were a civilization of warrior-sages who had dared to decode the language of the universe. Their power was written in their eyes—the deeper the shade of scarlet in their irises, the more profound their connection to the primordial forces. But for the Primordial Gods, such progress was an insult—a stain on the divine hierarchy.
The war was an age of endless nightmare. Mountains were turned to fine grey dust in a single strike and oceans were boiled into steam. The Scarlet Eternal Tribe fought back with desperate ferocity, summoning dragons of black flame, but for every god they managed to scar, ten thousand of their kin were erased from history.
By the dawn of the eighth year, the pride of the Scarlet Eternal lay in ruins. Their floating citadels had crashed and their libraries were nothing but ash.
"Fall back!" the command echoed through the psychic link of the survivors. It was the voice of the High Priest, heavy with the weight of a dying race. "To the Basin! Move while the mists still hold!"
The survivors—a mere fraction of the millions who once thrived—fled to a place forbidden by ancient laws: The Veil of the Forbidden Basin.
Forty years had passed since the Great Retreat.
Within the emerald and violet depths of the Forbidden Basin, the Scarlet Eternal Tribe had rebuilt a life of quiet brilliance. They lived in a hidden sanctuary where jade-white pavilions and refined Japanese-style Minka estates were woven into the roots of the forest. The warriors of the Scarlet Eternal were giants among men; the average male stood at a staggering 200 centimeters, their bodies sculpted like walls of living iron.
Tonight, the basin was alive with the sound of a thousand drums. It was the night of the Sacred Ritual, held at the foot of The Great Tree of Life. It was a colossal, ancient structure, its bark glowing with a soft bioluminescence, serving as the very heart of their hidden civilization.
At the center of the ritual stood Aryanette.
She was a vision of lethal grace. Standing at 180 centimeters, she was shorter than the titans of her tribe, yet her presence commanded absolute silence. Her hair, as black as the void, flowed to her waist, and her eyes—a shade of Scarlet so deep it bordered on the abyssal—searched the shadows.
In the Scarlet Eternal Tribe, the law was absolute: A man must be stronger than the woman he claims. At forty years of age, Aryanette remained a Maiden. Not for a lack of beauty, but because she was a mountain that no man could climb. Her power was an anomaly; no man in the tribe was her equal.
As the High Priest chanted, Aryanette felt a profound, aching boredom. Her gaze did not rest on the altar. Instead, she looked up at the sliver of blue sky visible through the crimson moon-haze.
Then, she saw it.
A shimmering, sapphire light streaked across the sky. It was a crystalline blue, so bright it burned through the clouds. Aryanette watched, mesmerized, as the light dived straight toward The Great Tree of Life, disappearing into the trunk of the massive tree with a soundless impact.
Curiosity erupted within her.
Without a word, the forty-year-old Maiden broke the formation. Ignoring the gasps of the elders, she ran. Her long, powerful legs devoured the distance as she reached the base of the tree. She began to circle the massive glowing roots, her crimson eyes searching every inch of the bark.
She stopped, scratching her head in genuine confusion as she looked around the empty clearing.
"I am certain of it," she whispered to herself, her voice laced with an unshakable conviction. "I am very sure that light was heading right here."
Just as she was about to pace again, a sound like a shattering bell rang through the clearing.
A hairline fracture appeared on a massive Crystal embedded deep within the wood of The Great Tree of Life. From the crack, a light began to pour out—a swirling hue of sapphire blue mixed with an Absolute Darkness.
The atmosphere in the Basin changed instantly. The sky seemed to buckle and the earth vibrated with a terrifying pulse. Across the entire world, and high in the celestial thrones, every God felt a cold shiver of dread.
Something Grand and Terrible had arrived.
Aryanette did not fall. She stood her ground as the crystal buckled. Through the glowing fractures, she saw a silhouette. A small, curled form, radiating a presence so vast it made the ancient tree seem like a mere sapling.
SHATTER!
The Crystal within The Great Tree of Life erupted. Shards of glowing matter flew like shrapnel, but Aryanette dived forward, her arms outstretched. As the blinding Absolute Dark flared—a power so vast it threatened to consume the light—it suddenly submerged back into the infant's core, hiding within his soul.
Aryanette looked down, and her breath hitched.
Cradled in her arms was a baby. He was perfectly formed, his skin shimmering with a faint, pearlescent light. When the child opened his eyes to meet hers, they were not sapphire, but a striking Scarlet Red, mirroring her own deep hue.
"A... a baby?" Aryanette breathed.
She gazed at the infant, and in that moment, the forty years of solitude and the cold logic of her tribe simply ceased to exist. This child, born from the stars and the ancient tree, was the only thing in existence that felt right in her arms.
A primal, maternal instinct roared to life. As the baby shifted in his sleep, his small hand clutching her tunic, Aryanette made a silent vow. She looked at the child, her scarlet eyes softening into a hue of protective fire.
"I have been waiting for you," she whispered, her chin resting on his head. "My son."
The Bloodmoon above began to fade, replaced by a sapphire dawn. Aryanette stood amidst the ruins of their most sacred monument, holding the Calamity that would one day silence the heavens.
The silence had begin.