Prologue:The Fall of Paradise:

The world is unforgiving. Cities rise, only to be torn down by forces beyond human control. The Hunter's Guild stands as the last bastion against these monstrous calamities, warriors trained to combat the beasts that threaten civilization. Their duty is to keep balance, to preserve what remains. But even they cannot be everywhere at once.

Lost Paradise—a secluded village untouched by the ravages of war—was one such place. Sheltered by dense forests and towering cliffs, it thrived in peace, far from the Hunter's Guild's watchful eyes. Its people knew little of war, little of bloodshed. That was, until the storm arrived.

A dark shadow eclipsed the sun, a wave of dread sweeping over the land. The earth trembled beneath monstrous footfalls. An elder dragon had come.

"Prepare the men! Put on your battle gear and line up at the barricade!"

Lazarus, the village leader, stood firm amidst the rising panic, his voice cutting through the chaos.

Alaric, his second-in-command, wasted no time. "Understood!" He raised a horn to his lips and blew. The low, haunting sound carried through the village like a death knell.

"All warriors, to arms! Everyone else, evacuate immediately! Take only what you can carry—there is no time to waste!"

The villagers scrambled. Mothers clutched their children, elders leaned on the young for support, warriors strapped on what little armor they had. Yet deep down, all of them knew—their weapons were nothing more than twigs against the beast that descended upon them.

And then, the nightmare arrived.

A monstrous roar split the sky as Shagaru Magala's golden wings unfurled, blotting out the sun. With a single beat, it tore through the barricades as if they were paper, its corrupting breath turning men into mindless husks. It was not just destruction—it was annihilation.

Flames engulfed homes. Screams echoed through the air. Families were torn apart in the chaos.

Lazarus stumbled through the wreckage, blood staining his tunic, his legs barely holding him upright. He had one goal—his family.

"Elara! Can you still stand?!"

His wife lay beneath a collapsed beam, her face pale, her breaths shallow. "Our... our child... trapped... under the boulders... save him first..."

Lazarus turned, spotting a small hand reaching from beneath the rubble. He dug, his fingers bleeding as he pried the stones apart, revealing the crying infant beneath. Relief flooded him—his child was unharmed.

"Leave... now..." Elara's voice was weak. "I won't last. You must survive. Promise me... you'll live. and protect our child to the last of your breath"

**"No! We leave together!" as lazarus say **

But even as he pleaded, he saw the truth. Blood pooled beneath her, her body crushed beyond saving. Tears blurred his vision.

"Go! Now!"

With a final, agonized look, Lazarus turned and ran, his child cradled in his arms. Behind him, the village—his home—was erased from existence.

For three years, they lived in hiding within the stronghold. Three years of relentless battles for survival. Three years of silence from the Hunter's Guild. Every message Lazarus sent returned unopened. Hope dwindled, yet he refused to let it die.

One evening, as he sharpened a pair of daggers forged from a Rathian's tail, he turned to the young boy at his side.

"Child, take these." He placed the weapons in the boy's small hands. "You must learn to fight."

Then came the night that changed everything.

The ground trembled. The air turned thick with malice.

A Deviljho had found them—during one of their rare scouting missions beyond its safety.

Lazarus's grip tightened around his Great sword. "No... not now... not you."

The monstrous beast loomed before them, its glowing eyes locked onto its prey. Lazarus wasted no time—he stepped forward, placing himself between the monster and his son.

"Child! Run! No matter what happens, survive!"

The boy clung to his father's tunic, his small fingers digging into the fabric. "No! I won't leave you!"

Lazarus knelt, his trembling hands cupping the boy's face. He forced a reassuring smile. "I promise, I'll follow."

Then, in the blink of an eye, the beast struck.

Blood painted the dirt. Lazarus fell.

His final words came in a whisper. "Run..."

"Fatherrrrr!!!"

The child's wail shattered the night, but the Deviljho did not waver. It advanced, its jaws parting—

Then fire rained from the heavens.

A Rathalos, drawn by the chaos, descended in a blaze of fury. The two monsters clashed, their roars shaking the sky. In the chaos, the child was thrown into the tall grass, unseen, unconscious.

The battle raged on. When it ended, only silence remained.

Lazarus clenched his fists. "No, not now... not you!"

The massive beast loomed before them, its hungry eyes gleaming in the darkness. Without hesitation, Lazarus drew his Great sword

"Child! Run! No matter what happens, save yourself!"

The boy clung to his father's tunic, tears spilling down his cheeks. "No! I won't leave you!"

Lazarus knelt, pressing a trembling hand to his son's face. He smiled—soft, reassuring. "I promise, I'll follow."

And then, before the child could blink, his father was struck down.

Blood spattered across the dirt.

"Run..."

The last words of a warrior. The last words of a father.

"Fatherrrrr!!!"

The boy's scream pierced the night, but the Deviljho paid no mind. It stomped toward him, jaws parting—

Then, fire rained from the sky.

A Rathalos, drawn by the commotion, descended in a fury of flames. The two monsters clashed, their roars shaking the heavens. In the chaos, the child was flung into the tall grass, unconscious, unseen.

The battle raged on. When it ended, only silence remained.