Across the vastness of existence, countless worlds are interwoven, bound together by a dark web of miasma—what you might recognize as dark matter. But to otherworldly beings, it is simply mana. If I had to choose the ideal world for this tale, it would be one still clinging to life, its pulse faint but persistent. A world that beats with the fragile hope of survival, caught in the delicate balance between the gods' mercy and their decision to let it fade into oblivion.
Welcome to Icarus— the elven world of magic.
Long ago, the ancient Nordic gods created an experiment to replicate the realm of Alfheim, using the remnants of Ymir. Over time, the link between worlds was severed, and Icarus, once part of this divine project, became self-sustaining. The world itself was a vast continent, encircled by three great oceans: the Ocean of Laplin, the Ocean of Vati, and the Ocean of Frao. The land, known as Kratoria, was named after the ruling god who claimed dominion over the region, as the Nordic champions withdrew and left the world to its own fate.
[Now, let's take a closer look.]
The World Tree stood at the heart of the continent, the crown of the land. Renowned for its ability to channel mana through its sprawling roots, it was essential to the culture of the elves. From the very beginning, the first elves were born from the fruit of the tree, endowed with the power to concentrate mana into a core that flowed through their veins like blood. This Mana Core, situated at the heart, became the lifeblood of the elves, a force that pulsed in place of the electrical current found in other living beings. Over time, tribes emerged, each attuned to one of the elements—Fire, Water, Nature, Earth, Wind, Light, and Darkness. Each tribe developed profound, complex understandings of its chosen element, building unique schools of magic and philosophies. As the tribes grew, so did their influence over Kratoria. The elves' deep connection to their respective elements reshaped the land itself. The Nature tribe cultivated vast, flourishing forests, while the Fire tribe forged ever-burning citadels. The Water tribe built tranquil, floating cities, and the Wind tribe constructed towering spires that touched the heavens. The tribes of Light and Darkness, however, created an eternal tension. The Light sought balance and harmony, while the followers of Darkness delved into secrets that few dared uncover. Over time, alliances and rivalries formed, and the elemental powers intertwined into the very fabric of Kratoria's history.
As centuries passed, the elves—once defined by their divisions and constant conflict—began to recognize the futility of their endless wars. The world had changed, and so had they. As knowledge deepened, the fragmented tribes discovered common ground in shared values of peace and unity. The elves, once divided, began to see themselves as one people. This new mindset gave rise to a council—a democratic body where representatives from each tribe could voice their concerns and make decisions for the greater good. With diplomacy replacing the ancient ways of war, the elves focused their efforts on innovation and progress. Magic and technology fused seamlessly, propelling Kratoria into a new age. Cities flourished, communication expanded, and a new sense of purpose and unity guided the elves toward a brighter future.
However, peace came at a cost. The universe, it seemed, demanded a greater sacrifice. A cataclysmic mana wave, originating from the distant reaches of space—what some would call dark matter—collided with Kratoria, tearing apart the very fabric of reality. The wave surged across the continent, twisting magic and life itself. The World Tree, once a source of stability, trembled as its roots were overwhelmed by chaotic energy, contorting unnaturally. The mana wave distorted the land, mutating creatures and warping the elements that had once been so carefully balanced. The elves, masters of mana for so long, found themselves powerless against this relentless force. Cities crumbled, forests ignited in violent flames, and oceans churned, swallowing vast stretches of land. The fragile balance between magic and nature shattered, and Kratoria descended into an age of darkness and destruction. What was once an era of prosperity became a time of desperate survival, as the survivors struggled to adapt to a world forever changed by the alien force that had invaded their realm.
In the end, a lone, mocking cackle echoed from the far reaches of space, as though from a malevolent entity pulling strings like a puppeteer. A forgotten god, slumbering for millennia, had awoken. Its first taste of blood in an eternity stirred something ancient and terrible within. The cosmos trembled as this god, now fully conscious, relished the chaos it had unleashed, its dark influence spreading over the shattered world below.
[The system has been initiated...]