"Arise. O, my children, arise!"
These were the words uttered by the Forefather—the very words that gave birth to the seven elemental gods:
Gran, the robust and juste god of Geo.
Naia, the gentle yet naïve goddess of Hydro.
Folia, the innocent and playful deity of Dendro.
Pyrav, the hot-headed yet pure-hearted god of Pyro.
Elle, the free-spirited and kind god of Anemo.
Ael, the steadfast, serene god of Electro.
Ronyu, the cold-hearted and silent goddess of Cryo.
The Forefather then created the angels, appointing Lady Jibrir as Archangel and overseer of the heavens. After this, he shaped Eldravia and commanded his children to craft their own creations— beings of their own will and sentience who would embody life itself. Thus, the seven races of our world were born. (...)
"But, Sister Mary, where did the elemental Gods go?" A curious child in the room shouted.
"Yeah! Why do we only have the Anemo deity watching over us?" Asked another child, his tired and worn face revealing the hardship of his young life.
"Do not worry, children," Sister Mary said with a warm smile, her voice soft and reassuring. "I shall finish the story for you."
The children gathered in the play area of the old, yet well-maintained orphanage, their eyes wide with interest.
"Ahem... now, where was I? Ah yes," she continued. "The seven races lived in peace, each guided by their respective God. Under their divine rule, they flourished with advancements in technology, medicine, and mana beyond imagination. The Gods' wisdom knew no bounds. The mortals indulged in simple joys, their lives blessed by this paradise created by their celestial overseers."
"But harmony among the gods was not to last. A growing envy, pride, and thirst for power began to divide the siblings. Each believed their creation was superior, and that they alone deserved to rule Eldravia. The heavens trembled as their rivalry turned into open conflict. The seven Gods began to quarrel over who would reign supreme over the lands left in their care."
"And, thus, the Great Divine War erupted—a war that tore through the heavens and claimed countless mortal lives. All siblings fought for dominance—all but one.
Elle, the god of Anemo, chose neutrality. He refused to spill his siblings' blood. Instead, he gathered his children—the humans—and shielded the continent of Veridia. There, he erected a magical barrier, protecting them from the chaos of the war."
"Wow... so if Elle hadn't protected us, our kingdom wouldn't even exist?" Exclaimed one child in disbelief.
"Shut up, Roman! Let Sister Mary finish!"
A small girl snapped, her pale skin, striking red eyes, and poorly dyed black hair making her stick out from the crowd.
"Settle down, children," Sister Mary said gently. "Inoue, be kind to Roman. I will finish the story; save your questions for later, alright?"
Roman grinned smugly at Inoue, but the room fell silent as the nun resumed her tale.
"Elle, once considered the weakest of the Gods, was largely ignored by his siblings, as they used the mortals they had created like pawns in their greedy game for power. The war raged for six-hundred years—merely a blink in the eyes of the gods. But it was the Forefather who ended it all.
In his wrath, the Forefather deemed six of his children too foolish and prideful. He stripped them of their divinity, rendering them mortal. He commanded that they repent for their arrogance and sins. The governance of Eldravia was entrusted to the one who had remained free of corruption—the one who had stayed true even in weakness, and who had protected his children: Elle, the Anemo god."
"With a single gesture, the Forefather lifted the barrier, healing the war-torn lands. Though remnants of the six flawed Gods' reign—temples, ruins, dungeons—still lingered across the continents, peace returned to Eldravia. The seven races—Ghouls, Humans, Elves, Titans, Scara-demons, Demi-humans, and the mysterious Shol (whose current whereabouts remain unknown)—were set free. Elle, believing in the wisdom of mortals, entrusted the future of Eldravia to them, choosing to observe from the heavens above."
The sound of church bells echoed outside the orphanage.
"It seems it's time for supper," Sister Mary said, her angelic voice mirroring the chime of the instruments resonating outdoors.
The eager children scrambled out of the room. As they left one by one, Sister Mary stood alone, her face clouded with an emotion that can only be interpreted as regret.