In the Age of Legends, heroes gathered together to rebel against the all-powerful Gods and cease their wicked deeds.
King Arthur, Sir Gawain, Sir Lancelot, Sir Tristan, and Sir Percival had the strength to match the omnipotent Elohim in a battle to the death.
The world was corrupted and plagued with diseases, death, destruction, and mass genocide caused by the hands of the divine.
There was no one in this accursed world that could defeat the Gods, except the mighty heroes of the Round Table.
King Arthur with Excalibur, Gawain with Galatine, Lancelot with Arondight, Tristan with Failnaught, and Percival with the mighty weapon, Longinus.
The five heroes fought bravely against the heavenly realm, Asgard, killing the divine, and destroying their authorities.
The Gods feared these powerful men and were driven into a corner, dreading their death.
But it was deserved.
The Gods and their crimes were unredeemable — with the death of trillions across the nine realms of Yggdrasil.
Fairies are captured and harvested for their mana. Humans were captured and used as Guinea pigs for the Gods. Giants were killed, and harvested for their durable bones. Elves were captured and used as slaves for the Gods. And Dragons, enslaved and used as pets to wreak havoc under the orders of the divine.
It was an immemorial time remembered by many.
The intensity of the battle echoed in every corner of the cosmos, and stars paled in the magnitude of the conflict.
Many call it the Ancient War.
Asgard was fierce, with heroes facing the Gods in a cosmic struggle, until the knights of the Round Table fell to their knees, leaving only Arthur Pendragon—
The Leader of Humanity.
The Savior of the Nine Realms.
The Most High King.
He had many titles, just as he had many loyal knights who would die by his side in battle against the ineffable deities that ruled the world.
Wielding Excalibur, he lifted the divine blade into the outer reaches of Asgard.
Power swirled immensely.
Authorities vanquished in its triumphant light.
And the nine realms sang a song of praise to the human king.
The Gods feared King Arthur and respected him for his indomitable willpower.
To them, he was unbeatable.
And with a single slash of his blade, Arthur Pendragon permanently sealed Asgard from the nine realms of Yggdrasil, locking away the Gods, and severing their connection with the mortal realms.
With their victory, the five brave heroes left the divine realm and returned to Midgard, where they were cheered, and even worshiped by many, thus, bringing an end to the Age of Legends.
But now a new age has begun.
One with peace, order, law, and balance.
This started the Age of Solidarity.
With the Gods sealed away, the nine realms can now rebuild itself from scratch, and start all over.
Worshiping the Divine race is forbidden, and so is building monuments, and statues of them, even if said God was kind, and respectful.
This was the age where mortals despised the divine, only relying on themselves, and praying to the soul of heroes.
+
Beep. Beep. Beep.
Beep. Beep. Beep
Beep. Beep—
SMASH!
Morning arose, but it was off to a bad start.
"I haven't slept."
A small, petite girl, was lying in bed with messy white hair, and a stack of books next to her on the mattress.
She wore glasses, which were crooked on her face.
She's been up all night, studying with no sleep.
"I'm soon to start Magic Academy in the country of Mesnil, today is the day I leave."
Glancing next to her, she could see the broken clock on her dresser.
She smashed it with her fist the moment it went off, but there was no regret in her expression.
In fact, she was expressionless.
Even in the world of knights, bowmen, and magicians, technology was advanced; clocks, magical machinery, cyborgs, robotic men, and even giant robots, which some call Mechas, existed.
It was common, especially among wealthy kingdoms in the realm of Midgard.
"I'd rather not deal with annoying people who have their egos buried so far up their ass, but I did make a promise to my brother to attend this academy."
She sighed, moving her legs from underneath the cover, and resting her soles on the cold wooden floor.
Her abode was quite small, being that of a bijou cabin, which was located in the woods, far away from human civilization.
"It's about to start snowing, I can already tell."
Looking out the window from across the bed, she stared into the cloudy sky.
The air was cold, and the clouds looked like rain clouds but were hanging lower in the sky than usual.
She had to journey for a few days, yet this was happening.
"It looks like I'm going to be traveling in the snow for a while."
She stood up from the bed, making her way to the right side of the cabin. A stove, drawers, dishes, and utensils were present, indicating the advanced environment of Midgard.
Grabbing a teapot, she began fixing her desired beverage, while outside, animals of all shapes and sizes ran free.
"Ah, you're finally awake, Grimhild."
An owl flew into her abode, landing on the window sill.
"...I'm assuming you have mail, Zarutha?"
"Indeed, indeed! I was told to deliver this letter to you, from the King of Mesnil himself, Lancelot!"
"I see." Impatient as ever, Grimhild conjured a small burst of flames from her finger, heating up the teapot. "What does it say? Can you read it to me?" The teapot began to whistle after a few seconds, ready to be poured. "I'm quite busy if you didn't notice." Grasping the handle, she grabbed her mug, pouring the delicacy into her cup.
"Of course, of course!" The Owl telekinetically lifted up the mail through magic, ripping apart the envelope to reveal the letter. "Let's see, let's see... hmm, mhm, mhm! Alright." The owl nodded its head, scanning through the note with emphasis on its importance. "Ah, I see, I see!"
Grimhild approached the door, walking outside into the cold weather.
"Incredible, just incredible! You're special, aren't you, Grimhild!?" The owl flew from the window sill, holding the letter with magic before landing on Grimhild's shoulder. "King Lancelot wants to challenge you in a duel! He's heard of your incredible potential and wishes to test your capabilities in a sparring match. This is magnificent, you'll be the first to ever battle King Lancelot in-"
"I don't care."
"Eh?!" The owl froze, staring at the petite mage with a look of concern. "W-What do you mean... you don't care? Do you understand what this means, Grimhild!?"
"Zarutha, you're my delivery owl, not my friend, I don't wish to hear your opinion on this. I don't care, and that's that."
"But the amount of fame you can get from this is unreal! N-Not to mention, you'll get the chance to fight one of the legendary heroes that others would kill for! I literally mean, kill!!"
"I am only going to Mesnil to join the Magic Academy, nothing more, King Lancelot is no concern to me, he can find someone else to duel, but I could care less." Sipping on her warm tea, the witch walked into the frosted grass, barefoot. "Why should I care for fame or wealth, none of that matters. In the end, power corrupts, and King Lancelot may end up just as tyrannical as King Vrunemir in the future."
"Grimhild..."
Baffled at her words, the owl could only say her name.
"You're... so..."
"???"
"Fucking stupid!!"
"Ow-!"
Dropping the letter, the owl attacked her head with its claws, cutting deep into her scalp.
"You dumbass, what makes you think King Lancelot out of all people is gonna be evil when he saved the world next to King Arthur?!"
Grimhild fanned the owl away, knocking them back before casting a spell.
"Ignolza!" Conjuring a magic circle, a wave of ice shot forward, engulfing the owl in freezing temperatures, but keeping their head from becoming solid. "Sometimes, even good people turn evil, I've lived long enough to understand the good, and the bad. People with wealth and power can become bored with everyday things and desire something new in their lives. And that fresh, new feeling that they desire can sometimes be evil, degenerate, and immoral things. That's the reality behind power, and wealth."
"C-Can't... breathe!" Zarutha was on the ground, frozen in ice, struggling to break free.
"People with power get bored of the same food, the same people, the same pleasure, and the same lifestyle, and want to switch it up in derogatory ways. I have that same feeling towards King Lancelot."
"H-Help... me!"
Grimhild ignored his cry for help, proceeding to sip on her tea.
"I have to get ready, I'll be leaving for a few years, so make sure to keep my cabin in pristine conditions, if you don't mind."
"How can... I do that... if I'm dead?!" The light faded from the owl's eyes, but Grimhild pointed her index finger, zapping the ice with a burst of flames. "I'm counting on you in my time of departure, Zarutha." Turning around, she walked back inside, leaving the frantically breathing owl.
"You sadist!!"