Year 0002, The Imperium
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The aftermath of war is only death, destruction, and suffering.
There are no true winners or losers, only dead people and those they have left behind, and there were a lot of them.
How does one who became a bloody tyrant sleep with such bloody hands?
That is a question none of the common folks could answer; they are more akin to serial murderers at that point.
They have lost their empathy for others, especially those people beneath and those they consider as their mortal enemies.
They justify their means of being a harbinger of death with the righteous deeds that came with it.
And for the people of Elms, it was indeed a righteous deed; it was enough to cut off the sympathy they once had for other people, other than themselves.
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The people of Elms have suffered long enough; they are the most enslaved of the human race to date.
They are of noble blood that served outside the once Mighty Empire of Arkanus; their First King was a descendant of the Royal House of Arkanus.
But then Arkanus had fallen due to the advent of the 'Wrath of the High Heavens,' as the mortal people would call it.
At that time they were outside the Arkanus's sphere of protection.
As they were tasked by the then Emperor of Arkanus to return to their own kingdom and to secure its borders from the looming threat of the Darkness.
And as faithful servants of the Empire, they withdrew their House from the Capital of Arkanus, along with its soldiers and people, and for that alone, they survived.
After the fall of Arkanus, the dormant forces of the world converged to conquer the Kingdom of Elms.
They were the various kingdoms once who lay in wait, like treacherous vultures, of what had been known after, as the 'Fresco League of Kingdoms.'
They banded together with dark forces and other spiteful races who waited for the fall of Arkanus.
What became of their noble people after that? They have been enslaved by the many races that encompass the entirety of Centuury.
They were the last of that great house, and everyone wants a piece of that last pie.
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But now, for too long, they were finally free from the shackles of slavery.
For the eons that have passed, their people were enslaved by too many empires, kingdoms, and races.
Too long have they waited for their savior to appear before them, and now the prophecy long foretold has been fulfilled.
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Ding! Dong! Ding! Dong!
The bells echoed in a joyous tune to celebrate their great victory that was promised to them.
The streets were filled with a grand and joyful celebration; flowers were thrown here and there into the massive avenue of the capital as their emperor and heroes walked past them.
And along with them, the many dead Imperial soldiers who fought bravely in this last great battle.
The grand celebration was being held in honor of their Emperor, Janus Cornwall, First of His Name, Grand Protector of the People of Elms, and The Last Son of Arkanus.
For months they traveled on foot to march back into his mighty capital city, "The Regalia Imperion, The Crownhold 'Aethelgard,' the Last House of Elms and Arkanus, the Keeper of Dragons."
It was truly an impregnable fortress of a city, built by him and his commanders, his comrades of the past and the Grand Elders of the House Elms; it was truly befitting of its name, in which it houses a noble throne for the Imperium, built with the finest celestial material resources of the land.
Deep within its hallowed halls lies the only newborn offspring of the ancient dragons.
"Chronusfyre Solumbra," a dragon that is both keeper of time, ruler of fire, and an emissary of darkness.
He now sleeps in the deepest cavern of the castle keep, and he was also a Companion, a Friend, and the Guardian Beast of Janus.
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'Aethelgard' houses the millions of the once enslaved people of Elms, and now they are the freest people of the land.
It is now the symbol of might, fury, justice, honor, and nobility; it has now replaced the once-mighty Arkanus Empire as the sole ruler of this world.
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After a long and grand celebration that lasted for almost a year, within its Grand Imperial Hall, Janus was sitting upon his throne; he hadn't aged for more than 5,000 years upon reaching adulthood.
He was truly an immortal, a half-deity, the grandson of the Heavenly God King who once threw him down into the world of Centuury.
It was never his fault to begin with; he was only a collateral for the sinfulness of man and God, and for that he hated them with all his being.
He had now seen the many deaths of the previous generations; many of his grand advisors had long passed.
Now only the memories of his comrades remain etched in the halls of his keep, the statues of the great and many men and women who served him and his house through blood and fire.
What remained of their DNA has been passed from generation to generation to repeat the cycle of serving him until his last breath, if he ever decided to return into the embrace of the world.
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Now that most of the enemies who wronged him and his people have perished, he began to rest and idle in his imperial throne.
It was truly a bore to watch people come and go as they tried their best to please him with their slithery tongues.
It was a fact that he was not married yet, despite the many years that had passed him by.
And his new circle of friends worried that he may decide to return to the embrace of the world.
The Empire would perish along with him, and with it they would be enslaved once again.
So for the days that passed, many kings and queens, noble houses, and even the grand noble houses of his friends have tried to pass on to him their daughters.
But Janus was too callous; now he was devoid of any lingering emotions.
He once saw it as a child, as those tribal people who found and rescued him in the Caldera of Arkanus fought because of their emotions and also were ruled by their emotions that it clouded their logical and unbiased judgment on the most important things.
To which he vowed to himself to seal his emotions and erase its presence.
It was only once that he showed it the death of one of his old companions, the only woman to tug at his unbeaten heart.
After that, he was now forged of war, blood, tyranny, and madness that he could no longer find within him any inkling of the love that this world brings with it.
He so wished he could just cut off their heads from their bodies, but deep within, despite their foul tongues, he could not do so, as he knew that they only meant it for the best of the future and maybe to secure their houses too.
So killing the offspring of his old comrades and friends was not a viable option.
Was it a blessing or a curse to have lived this long?
"A decision to love, huh?"
A whispering thought echoed within himself, but how?
That he does not know...
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In Maya Village, August and his companions were trying their best to survive the onslaught of summer.
While August decided to rush himself to level up once again, a new milestone level that would unlock many great things for him.
Maybe then he could fight with the Legendary Boss Rank Boarat....
[DING!!!]