Chapter 1: The Awakening of the Fallen Sovereign
The universe is not merely a collection of stars and planets; it is a living, breathing tapestry woven from the raw threads of energy and magic. This energy, known to the learned as "Mana," flows through the veins of the earth, concentrating into four massive continents that hold the weight of civilization. Each continent is a world unto itself, governed by a dominant race, forming the four pillars of the mortal realm:
First, there is the Kingdom of Ilbaf, a rugged and mountainous land where the Giants dwell. Their cities are carved into the very peaks of the world, and their strength is said to be enough to reshape the landscape itself. To the south lies the Kingdom of Hubit, the ancestral home of the Dwarves. Though short in stature, their kingdom is a marvel of subterranean engineering, filled with the rhythmic clanging of hammers and the glow of molten gold.
Then, hidden within the ancient, whispering forests, is the Kingdom of the Elves, a realm where magic and nature are indistinguishable. And finally, there is the Kingdom of Argun, the heart of the human territories. Humans are the most numerous, their kingdom a bustling expanse of stone cities, knightly academies, and sprawling farmland.
But these four are merely the "Sub-Kingdoms." High above the clouds, in realms of pure light and suffocating darkness, exist the Higher Races: the Gods and the Demons. For eons, they have played a game of cosmic chess, using the mortal world as their board, though they rarely set foot on the mundane soil themselves.
The Great Betrayal: 9,000 Years Ago
Nine millennia ago, the history of the universe reached a bloody climax. The Demon King, a being of such immense power that his mere presence caused the stars to dim, had launched a campaign to reset existence. He didn't just want to rule; he wanted to dismantle the very foundations of the cosmos.
Desperate and facing extinction, the Gods did something unprecedented: they all gathered under a single banner to resist him. The sky burned for a hundred years as magic clashed with shadow. Yet, despite their collective might, the Gods were failing. The Demon King was an unstoppable force, a storm of dark energy that could not be weathered. He stood on the final battlefield, his blade raised to deliver the killing blow to the divine order. Victory was within his grasp.
Then, the world went silent.
A blade, forged in the very pits of the abyss, erupted through the Demon King's chest from behind. The King gasped, his black blood staining the golden armor of his assassin. He turned his head slowly to see the face of the traitor. It was Lucifer.
Lucifer was not just a general; he was the Demon King's masterpiece. The King had found him, trained him, and shared the deepest secrets of dark magic with him, intending for Lucifer to one day take his place. But Lucifer's ambition couldn't wait for destiny. To make room for his own reign, he struck when his master was most vulnerable. With a cruel smile, Lucifer twisted the blade, and the Great Demon King dissolved into a thousand shards of shadow, scattered across the winds of time.
The King had failed, not by the strength of his enemies, but by the hand of his own creation.
The Boy in the Shadow of Argun
"Hey, stupid! Wake up!"
The harsh voice of a fellow student snapped me back to the present. My name is Volt Laywin, and I am a nobody. I have messy black hair that never stays flat and brown eyes that people say look "vacant" or "dim-witted." I was born in a small, nameless village on the outskirts of the Kingdom of Argun, the son of simple farmers who spent their lives tilling the dirt.
Now, at sixteen, I find myself in the Royal Academy of Argun, though I am more of a ghost than a student. I am skinny, my ribs visible whenever we have to change for physical training. In a world where your worth is measured by the mana in your blood, I am a 'Zero.'
During our first combat exam today, the humiliation reached a new peak. While other students summoned sparks of fire or gusts of wind, I couldn't even make a training stone glow. I stood there, trembling, as the instructor sighed in disappointment.
"Volt Laywin: Zero potential," he announced.
The laughter that followed was a physical weight. "Why is a peasant even here?" one noble boy mocked. "He's not just weak; he's lazy. Look at him, he can't even hold a wooden sword straight."
I didn't argue. I couldn't. I just bowed my head and walked away, the title of 'Stupid' echoing in my ears like a funeral bell.
The Crimson Dream
That night, the walk home felt longer than usual. The moon was a sliver of silver in a bruised purple sky. I collapsed onto my thin mattress in the academy dorms, my body aching from the day's failures. Sleep took me quickly, but it wasn't peaceful.
I was standing in a void. It was an old, dark place, smelling of sulfur and ancient stone. The air was heavy, as if the gravity of a thousand worlds was pressing down on my shoulders.
"You brought me back... again," a voice boomed. It wasn't a voice heard with the ears, but felt in the marrow of my bones.
Suddenly, a flood of memories that weren't mine—yet felt intimately familiar—invaded my mind. I saw the fall of the Gods. I felt the cold bite of Lucifer's sword in my back. I felt the rage of a king who had been denied his throne. Nine thousand years of hatred condensed into a single heartbeat.
My eyes snapped open in the darkness of my room. The air around me began to vibrate. I stood up, my skinny frame feeling suddenly reinforced by an invisible pressure. I walked to the small, cracked mirror on the wall.
The boy staring back at me wasn't the "Stupid Volt" the Academy knew. My brown eyes had vanished, replaced by a swirling, predatory crimson. A dark aura, thin as silk but heavy as lead, flickered around my skin.
"The cycle begins anew," I whispered, my own voice sounding deeper, layered with the echoes of a fallen god.
The voice from the void laughed, a sound like grinding tectonic plates. "Now, Volt Alexander... are you ready to move forward and take back what was stolen?"
I looked at my hands. They were still the hands of a sixteen-year-old boy, but I could feel the energy of the universe humming beneath the surface, waiting for the seal to break.
Directed by Ahmed Mukhtar