Once upon a time, there was no time.
The only thing that existed was a cold and empty void—silent, boundless, and devoid of light. Only darkness could be seen, stretching endlessly. But from that cold darkness, a light emerged. From this light, the first being was born—the Primordial Light.
When the Primordial Light appeared, light itself came into existence. The once-silent and dark world now gleamed with radiance.
The Primordial Light created angels from this brilliance and commanded them to weave a world from it. The angels obeyed, shaping and molding the light into forms and structures, crafting a new world brimming with beauty. To populate this creation, they brought forth mortals, including humans.
However, where there is light, there must also be darkness. From the void's depths, shadowy creatures emerged—beings of chaos and destruction. They were called Phantoms. These entities were not of the Primordial Light's creation, but something else, birthed from the void itself.
To combat this menace, the Primordial Light did something it had never done before: it created beings from darkness. These new creations were the exact opposites of angels. Where angels brought creation, these beings brought destruction. They were called Executioners. The Primordial Light commanded them to annihilate the Phantoms, and they carried out their orders with ruthless efficiency. The Phantoms were mercilessly hunted until none remained.
---
"Grandpa, you've told me this story at least a hundred times," Claire interrupted, her tone laced with playful annoyance.
Her grandfather's raspy laugh echoed in the cozy room. "Oh, so you don't have time to listen to an old man's tales anymore? I guess my precious granddaughter is too busy for her grandpa in his final days."
Claire rolled her golden eyes. "You just have a cold! And you're not that old. You're going to live at least another twenty years."
"So I can't even spend time with my precious Claire?" he teased with a dramatic sigh.
"You can," she replied, crossing her arms, "but it's bedtime already!"
He chuckled and waved her off. "Fine, fine. Off to bed with you. Good night, my little firecracker."
"Good night, Grandpa."
As Claire trudged off to her room, neither of them noticed what the night held in store. Oh, by the way, I'm the narrator of this tale. Nice to meet you. Now, back to the story.
---
The morning sun bathed the small house in golden light as her grandfather called out, "Claire! Come down for breakfast!"
"Aah, crap! I'm late!" Claire bolted out of bed, hurriedly getting ready.
She rushed downstairs, plopping into her chair and shoveling food into her mouth.
"Eat slower," her grandfather chided. "You'll choke. And isn't today the day you receive your blessing?"
Claire nodded between bites. "Yesh, an' I don't wanna be late!" she mumbled, barely intelligible.
Her grandfather chuckled. "Go carefully, alright? And maybe drink some water so you don't sound like a bear growling through breakfast."
Claire gave him a quick hug and dashed out the door, her heart racing with anticipation.
---
Claire lived alone with her grandfather. Her parents had passed away in an accident when she was very young, leaving him as her only family. Despite his stern demeanor and intimidating appearance—a tall, scarred man missing a leg—he had a heart full of love for his granddaughter.
Claire, with her short black hair and striking golden eyes, was a spirited fourteen-year-old. She was taller than most girls her age, cheerful but with a temper that flared easily.
As she approached the grand temple, her excitement bubbled over. "I wonder which angel's blessing I'll receive," she mused aloud.
"Hey, Claire! Over here!" called a familiar voice.
"Ari! I'm here," Claire replied, spotting her childhood friend Alisa. With her short pink hair and green eyes, Alisa always seemed sweet and innocent, but Claire knew her too well. Beneath that façade lay a cunning and selfish streak.
"You're late," Alisa chided. "Come on, let's get inside before the ceremony starts!"
The temple was magnificent, its halls filled with people eagerly awaiting their blessings. Claire and Alisa, having arrived late, were last in line. One by one, individuals stepped forward to touch the Divine Stone and receive their blessings.
When Alisa's turn came, the priest gasped. "Congratulations! You have received the Primordial Light's blessing!"
The crowd buzzed with awe and envy.
"Wow, Ari! That's amazing!" Claire beamed.
Alisa feigned humility. "Oh, thanks, Claire."
Then it was Claire's turn. She stepped forward, placing her hand on the Divine Stone. Nothing happened. The stone remained cold and inert.
The priest hesitated. "Well… it appears you have no blessing."
"What?" Claire's voice cracked. "But everyone has a blessing!"
"I'm as surprised as you are," the priest said. "It's unheard of."
"Great," Claire muttered under her breath. "I'll be the first in history to start a club for the un-blessed. Membership count: one."
---
Outside the temple, Claire's world felt like it was crumbling. Alisa, however, delivered the final blow. "Claire… we can't be friends anymore."
Claire stared in shock. "What? Why?"
"I can't be seen with someone who doesn't have a blessing," Alisa said coldly. "Don't try to stop me."
Alisa walked away, leaving Claire standing there, speechless and heartbroken. Fighting back tears, she returned home to her grandfather.
---
Her grandfather noticed immediately. "Claire? What's wrong? Did something happen?"
Claire hesitated before blurting out, "Is it… is it that bad to not have a blessing?"
Understanding dawned on his face. He hugged her tightly. "You're my granddaughter, blessing or not. You'll always be enough."
That night, they shared dinner together, and for a brief moment, Claire felt happy again. Little did she know, it would be their last meal together.
---
Later that night, Claire found herself in a strange dream. She was in a room that seemed to stretch endlessly, its pure white walls glowing softly. At its center stood a table with two chairs. A figure sat in one, waiting for her.
"Please, take a seat," the figure said, gesturing to the empty chair.
Hesitantly, Claire sat. "Who are you? What is this place?"
"I am the Author," the figure replied with a smile. "The creator of your world. You may call me… well, Author is fine."
Claire blinked. "You mean… you're the Primordial Light?"
The Author chuckled. "No, I'm above even him. You see, I made all of this… including you."
"So, you're like a god?"
"Something like that," the Author said. "And I've brought you here for a reason. I want to give you my blessing."
Claire's eyes widened. "Really? Why me?"
"Because I created you for this purpose," the Author explained. "And because, frankly, I'm bored. Watching your journey will be entertaining."
Claire crossed her arms. "That's a weird reason."
"Maybe," the Author admitted. "But my blessing is no ordinary one. It's called the Nacro-Star. It allows you to create any weapon you can imagine, summon ancient grim spirits, and even challenge divine beings. Your strength, agility, and thinking speed will all be greatly enhanced. You'll be more than capable of handling what lies ahead."
Claire frowned. "Why give me something so powerful?"
The Author leaned forward. "Because the world needs you, Claire. And you need this. Now go—your grandfather needs you. He's in danger."
Before she could ask more, Claire awoke with a start. Her left eye burned briefly, turning purple for a moment. She leapt from her bed, rushing downstairs just as chaos erupted.
"Next time, maybe I should dream of lottery numbers," she muttered, sprinting toward the commotion.
---
A knock echoed at the door. Her grandfather opened it, his expression darkening as he saw the visitor's face.
"Why are you here, Yegir?" he growled.
The pale-skinned man with long hair and red eyes smirked. "It's been a while, Leon."
"State your business."
"I've been ordered to kill you."
Leon's eyes hardened. "Do you really think you can defeat me? Even in my prime, seven generals couldn't take me down."
Yegir chuckled. "You've lost your leg and your blessing. You're not what you used to be."
Leon's voice dropped to a dangerous tone. "Even now, you won't escape unscathed."
"Then let's not waste time," Yegir replied, stepping forward.
---
The battle was fierce. Leon fought valiantly, his strength and experience evident in every move. But Yegir was relentless. Though Leon managed to wound his opponent severely, it wasn't enough. The fight ended with Leon gravely injured.
Claire arrived just in time to see her grandfather collapse.
"Claire… take this mask," he said, handing her a dark, intricate mask. "Find Arthur in the capital. He's the head of the merchant's guild. Tell him you're my granddaughter. Burn the house before you leave. And remember… from now on, I'm not the Winter Devil… you are."
"Grandpa, no! Don't leave me!" she sobbed.
His voice grew faint. "Claire Blackwinters… that's who you are now."
With those final words, he passed away.
---
The grief was overwhelming, but Claire knew she had to honor his last wishes. After burying him and gathering what little she could carry, she set the house ablaze. The flames roared, consuming the only home she'd ever known.
Donning the mask, Claire began her journey to the capital, her heart heavy but her resolve unshaken. She was the Winter Devil now, and her destiny awaited.