Ofratrea—a planet teeming with diverse races, from elves to dragons, dungeons and ravine yet to be explored spread all across the land of Ofratrea. Deep oceans hiding monsters beyond the realm of mortals and skies filled with strongest dragons roaring through it. Some even whisper of gods walking among them…an entity beyond mortal comprehension, and a Demon King lurking in the shadows, threatening the world with chaos.

Forty Years Ago, on the Continent of Etheia; the kingdom of Reteos stood on the brink of collapse as its people rose in rebellion against their king. Rumors spread like wildfire—whispers of slavery, the slaughter of other races, and a king who sought power at the cost of morality. As the revolution spiraled out of control, the king abdicated… deemed unfit to rule the land of Reteos any longer. The leader of the revolution seized the throne, and soon after, the fallen king perished at his hands.

Months passed, and Reteos, now under new leadership, began its conquest. Neighboring nations fell one after another, expanding the empire's reach and cementing its name as a growing threat to the world.

At the heart of this relentless expansion was Hiyendel Greenfield—the self-proclaimed king, the very man who had led the revolution. A man who had slain his own kin, just to get what he wanted he betrayed even life itself.

From the beginning, his eyes had been set on just one nation; Loipetras…A land that had never sealed away its moon and brimming with hope and light.

…

As the army of Reteos advanced, the anticipation within Loipetras grew. One man stood at the center of it all—Akatsuki, willing to sacrifice himself for his people.

After four years of relentless warfare, the army of Reteos finally reached the gates of Loipetras. Standing before them was a man draped in a red robe, his golden crown glinting under the fading sun, his polished shoes catching the dust of war.

"Akatsuki, you have finally shown yourself," Greenfield's voice echoed through the kingdom, his lance poised in front of him.

Akatsuki met his gaze with a mix of hope and dread. "Leave this country in peace, and I shall follow you to my death!" His voice rang out, a desperate plea to protect his homeland.

Greenfield stepped forward, a sly smile playing on his lips as he unfurled a contract and a chain. "I have no interest in you. What I seek is the power of the Marking. I hear this land has candidates who could help me obtain it."

Akatsuki's breath hitched as he took a step back. "I don't even know what a Marking is."

Before he could react further, a hand clamped around his throat, lifting him off the ground. "Oh, but I am certain you do, Akatsuki," Greenfield hissed.

Akatsuki struggled, his hands clawing at the fingers tightening around his neck. "Which Marking... are you after?" he gasped.

"The Sword… or Bellona, as some may call it. The one who bears the Sword will be born in the years to come. And when the time is right, I will take their power for myself."

Those were the last words Akatsuki heard before darkness consumed him. His body went limp, and Greenfield tossed him aside like a discarded puppet. With a turn, the ruler of Reteos strode away, his army following in his wake.

That day, humanity lost its faith in those who once protected their world.

…

Ten years later, Reteos collapsed under the weight of its own ambitions. Its vast empire had grown too large to sustain, and only two major powers remained—the demon lands and the country of Loipetras.

Two years after that, the king of Loipetras vanished without a trace. Some claimed Akatsuki had been kidnapped; others whispered he had taken his own life.

…

Seven years later in the city of Loipetras, a baby was born. A young woman with short brown hair cradled her son, gazing at the sword-shaped mark upon his cheek.

"My son... I will protect you from this world's wrath."

…

Fourteen years later, boy clad in a brown-black tunic and green pants sprinted through the bustling streets of Loipetras, a sword strapped to his waist. His long black hair flowed behind him, a golden-green gleam in his eyes. A mark—etched upon his left cheek—stood as a silent testament to his fate.

A woman stepped out of a wooden cabin, her voice carrying across the yard. "Achlys, come here! Breakfast is ready!"

Achlys skidded to a stop, a look of exasperation crossing his face. "Why do I have to eat, old hag?!"

In an instant, the woman stormed toward him, grabbing his hair and dragging him back inside. "What did you just call me?" she growled.

Achlys struggled in vain before finally surrendering. With a smirk, the woman—Mariola—tossed him into the house.

Standing in front of Achlys with a menacing glare, Mariola crossed her arms. "You're sitting at the table for breakfast. I bet you can't wait, can you?" she teased with a knowing smirk.

Achlys forced a nervous grin. "Y-yeah! I can't wait! Yum, yum!"

Mariola chuckled and ruffled his hair before placing a plate of bread in front of him. "What kind of training are you doing today, Ach?"

Achlys perked up. "Sword training! I'm working toward a new skill!" His excitement was evident as he gestured animatedly. With hurried bites, he finished his meal, grabbed his sword, and dashed out of the house, racing past the city gates.

Guards exchanged glances as they watched him go. "There he goes again."

As Achlys sprinted into the forest, he barely noticed the girl in a hooded robe watching him with piercing red eyes.

…

At his usual training ground, Achlys stood before a towering, battle-scarred tree.

"Today, I take you down," he muttered, gripping his sword tightly.

Hours passed as he hacked at the tree, sweat drenching his tunic. Breathing heavily, he steadied himself. "One more strike."

His mark flared red, energy coursing through him. With a final spin, he unleashed a crimson arc from his blade, sending shards of wood flying.

A sudden yelp caught his attention.

"Ouch! That hurt!"

Achlys turned, spotting the hooded girl rubbing her forehead.

His breath hitched. "She's... beautiful..."

The girl blushed, startled.

Achlys snapped out of his daze and pointed his sword. "Who are you? Why are you following me?"

The girl raised her hands, trembling. "T-Tiabiashi is m-my name... I was just... curious."

Achlys studied her, and then smirked. "Are you a fighter or a runner?"

Tiabiashi hesitated before grabbing a rapier.

"A rapier, huh? They are balance in speed but on strength, not so mu-"

 In a blink, she was in front of him, blade at his neck.

Achlys dropped his sword, a nervous smile tugging at his lips. Sweat trickled down his temple as he chuckled awkwardly. "That's... fast." He carefully pushed the rapier away from his neck, exhaling slowly.

Regaining his composure, he studied Tiabashi with curiosity. "Have you ever wielded a weapon before?"

Tiabashi blinked, confusion flickering in her eyes. She looked down at the rapier, her grip faltering. A moment later, she dropped the weapon entirely and took a shaky step back. "I'm sorry..." she muttered before abruptly turning on her heel and running.

She barely made it a few steps before tripping, landing in a heap on the dirt path.

Achlys let out a quiet laugh and approached her, extending a hand. "Hey, it's my fault for being too aggressive."

Tiabashi hesitated, her fingers twitching as she refused his help. But Achlys didn't give up, following her slow retreat with an outstretched hand and an easygoing grin.

After a moment, she sighed and took his hand, allowing him to pull her up. Yet, instead of meeting his gaze, she turned away with a faint blush. "Idiot," she huffed under her breath.

Deciding not to press the matter, he glanced at the sky, watching the hues of orange and purple spread across the horizon. "You hungry?" he asked casually. "The sun's setting—we could grab some dinner."

Tiabashi hesitated for only a second before nodding. Without another word, she fell into step beside him as they made their way back toward the city gates.

Upon reaching his home, Achlys pushed open the door, gesturing for Tiabashi to step inside.

Achlys paled. "Oh no..."

Mariola loomed behind him, her voice a low growl. "Why... are you... LATE?"

"Because... I met this elf girl?" Achlys offered weakly.

Mariola studied Tiabashi, who gave an awkward wave, sweat beading on her forehead. She crossed her fingers behind her back—a sign of fear and hope in their world.

After a few tense moments, Mariola sighed. "So, you're blaming someone else, huh?!"

Achlys tried to protest, but five minutes later, he sat at the dinner table, a lump forming on his head as he picked at his salad in silence. Tiabashi, meanwhile, shook hands with Mariola, who smirked. "Name's Mariola. The mother of that thing."

They shared a small laugh as the evening wore on. Later that night, the moons rose in the sky, casting their glow over the sleeping city. Achlys and Tiabashi lay in bed, her leg draped over his chest as she snored lightly.

Beyond the city walls, the clash of swords and the roar of flames filled the forest. A commanding voice rang out.

"MEN! STOP THE ORCS! THEY MUST NOT REACH THE CITY!"

Under the moons' light, a figure with fiery red hair dashed past a flickering tent, racing toward the fray.