There was never any point in humanities history that we weren't a wretched and vile plague upon our Realm. We spill more blood in a matter of decades than most species do in centuries, warring across every land we encounter until we've trampled across it entirely.

The Old Gods knew this, that was why they kept us underfoot. We threatened everything "They" created with our greed and hunger for blood, but not all of them resented us for it. The Era of Hunger was ended by Gaia.

Gaia knew it was just the way the gods formed them, after themselves. She knew they were the same, and she gave them her blood. It brought us in touch with the Ether all around us, but her gift was just that, a gift. We rose to the point where we could strike at the Gods, and we did.

Once, we could kill Gods, and thus began the Era of Man. 

Their bodies scattered across Neiva, the mortal realm, prove it. The gods were gone for centuries, until Ophelia, Manifestation of Hunger arose and began her perversion of Gaia's gift. New Gods arose before she could finish, but it didn't take long for them to realize what she had done. Even worse, the New Gods stood idly by.

The divinity within all beings was sealed for humanity, and she spread her Ambrosia filled blood across the lands, giving birth to Calamities beyond our belief.

Centuries have passed, shrouding the world in darkness. Humanity struggles against the Calamities which assault it, forging machinations of war from the bodies of the Calamities. 

They never stopped fighting and searching for a way to put an end to Ophelia's Madness, even claiming the lost legacies of the Old Gods. 

The Era of Calamity gave birth to the Era of War, as current scholars predict it will be called. We are no longer subject to the Calamities rule, no longer ants for them play with. We battle them now, in an Ether filled race to divinity. 

We've killed the gods before, and we will do it again.