The "Dual Moon" era, also known as the DM era, is the era of my birth. All I remember is the chaos caused by a relentless Grand War—Grand War Two. Supposedly, it was also the era when all mages and their spells mysteriously disappeared. Few bodies of mages were found, including those of great ones who had played vital roles in the Second Grand War, mutilated and disfigured almost beyond recognition. A city named "Mages' End" was created in Velrithia in their honor. In that city lies the tomb of the "Three Great Sages of Magic.
Even during the era of magic, the curse of immortality was not considered a possibility by most mages, except for a few. Yet somehow, I was cursed during Grand War Two, which took place about five centuries after the first. "How?" Countless theories exist, but no real answers yet.
"Am I the only immortal one, or...?"
"Are any of the mages still alive?"
"Why... how did they disappear in the first place?"
To find answers, I studied the records of Grand Wars One and Two. Grand War One took place just before the dawn of Dual Moon. It was the age of blades and magic, and there were countless casualties. No man was prepared for a war of this scale. However, none of the records or tomes stated the reason for the war in the first place.
"How does a war of this magnitude, involving almost all nations and tribes, not have a cause in any records?"
For the past hundred years or so, I've been studying the historical records of the Grand Wars, mainly the first one. Though I was well acquainted with the second war, I still went through its records just in case I missed something. Amusingly, I knew more about the war than any records described—perhaps because I was involved in it. Looking back, that was the first time I led a war of that magnitude; it was a thrilling experience. I was quite naive back then, almost like a child... or at least that's how I perceive it. "I'm sure no one would call a general a 'child,'" I think to myself.
At present, we're in the era of the "Rising Sun," more specifically, 710 RS. Between the era of the Dual Moon and the Rising Sun, there was a period of great distress. For roughly a hundred years, people suffered from the losses of the most devastating Grand War. The war was practically a massacre. The men killed opposing soldiers—and their people, innocent and evil alike. It was later named the "Black Century," the result of Grand War Twelve. Seeing all these wars, I always get this feeling of déjà vu, and I'm reminded yet again that I'm all alone here.
I was strong enough to fight alone and emerge victorious among thousands upon thousands of enemies in that war, but it wasn't the first time. It's been a long time since I've fought alongside allies. When you cannot die, eventually you can grow stronger than the entirety of humanity. My training and discipline only accelerated the process. But the relentless training is in the past now. I am already stronger than the entire world. I can fight and win any war all by myself without even making a proper appearance. I will only get stronger, and the thought frightens me.
I ended the last Grand War, the twelfth one. No one knows me in this era, and I want it to remain that way. I made it seem like a story that goes, "All soldiers died, and the final duel between the remaining two soldiers of opposing sides ended in a draw, killing both of them." In reality, I was the one who put an end to both sides.
After gathering all the information I could find about the war, including what I already knew, I seem to have made a shocking discovery. All military strategies of Grand War One and Grand War Two, more specifically their "Operational Plan" maps, indicate that the war took place near Mount Tyro—the mountain uncharted by mankind. Interestingly enough, Mount Tyro was where the bodies of the three great mages were found. They were discovered in the foothills of the mountain, and the rest of Tyro remains untouched by the human eye. The mountain is always surrounded by a dark cloud. According to legend, the closer you get to the mountain, the harsher the never-ending storm becomes. Seemingly, a few had to lose their lives to make that discovery.
The mountain's steep nature and never-ending storm caused people to consider it a bad omen, and hence no one dared to venture close. If anything, that gives me hope.
"Perhaps if I explored there..." The thought was firm, and I had made up my mind. "If that's the only clue I could find after a hundred years of searching, what do I have to lose?"
Tomorrow, at the break of dawn, I'll head for Mount Tyro. Perhaps I'll find some answers there.