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The continent of Altaira was on the verge of change. The Lord of the Abyss—also known as the Lord of Darkness or Chaos—had been growing in strength, seeking to break free from his ancient seal.

To achieve this, he commanded the King of the Abyss, Ragnar the Brutal Conqueror, to find the Orb of Order. This powerful artifact was the key to shattering his imprisonment.

A great battle soon erupted on the Weeping Plains. The first and second regiments of the Minoan Empire—the strongest empire on the continent—clashed against the demon army, led by the Lord of the Abyss's right-hand, Alice the Enchantress. The forces of peace and order fought relentlessly for nearly a decade. But the war reached a turning point when the second regiment, led by the formidable Maestro, lured the demon horde into a colossal trap at the empire's border.

Defeated, the demons retreated to the Abyss. Yet, whispers spread among the common folk—rumors that, under the cover of night, demons still wandered the streets, preying upon children who strayed too far from home.

"So beware," a voice warned, "Do not wander past the wagons after sunset, or the wandering demons will take you away!"

"Mommy!!"

A chorus of startled screams erupted from the gathered children, their faces wide with fear. Their storyteller, a middle-aged bard, smirked at their reaction.

"Tell us about the heroes of the empire!" a boy, no older than six, demanded excitedly.

"Yes! Uncle storyteller, tell us!" the other children chimed in, their earlier fear replaced by excitement.

The bard chuckled. "Alright, alright! Settle down, or I won't tell you about Maestro the Defender and the heroes he trained!"

The children fell silent, eager to listen.

*"After the war, Maestro the Defender took in orphans from the first and second regiments—youngsters with talent and potential. He trained them to become warriors, mages, and assassins. They were Jenny the Phantom Assassin, Aerith the Lightning Mage, Kastar the Sharpshooter, and Benny the Demon Slayer."

The bard's voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. "Jenny was Maestro's own little sister. Swift as lightning, she could vanish into shadows and take down enemies before they even knew she was there."

"I want to be like Jenny when I grow up!" a gap-toothed girl exclaimed.

"Me too! Me too!" the other children echoed.

But one girl scoffed. "You're a boy! Boys can't be girls! Jenny is a girl!"

The bard intervened before an argument could erupt. "There are plenty of heroes you can become! Like Aerith, the Lightning Mage!"

A boy hesitated. "But… he's a Purrin."

"Yeah! He's a Purrin!" another added.

The bard smiled. "And yet, he's still a hero! If you study at the Northern Valley Academy, you could even become the next Royal Magister."

The children gasped in awe.

"And then there's Kastar," the bard continued. "With his violin and enchanted weapon, he's like a walking Grim Reaper. They say that if you hear a somber tune on the battlefield or near a demon-infested area, it's always followed by the dying cries of demons."

The children shivered in delight.

"And lastly, Benny the Demon Slayer—"

"He's boring! Tell us about Dracula instead!"

"Shhh!"

The bard suddenly hushed them, his body tense. He had sensed movement in the woods.

They were traveling in a caravan bound for Castle Gorge, a mighty fortress nestled between the Twin Peaks. It was ruled by Count Basil Paisley, one of the empire's pillars. The Paisley family was known for their military prowess, guarding the empire's southwestern border—an area dangerously close to the Abyss.

The Abyss itself was surrounded by the towering Mantis Mountain Range, a colossal barrier that stretched from the Stormcoast in the east to the Dunes of Esparada in the west, before disappearing into the Sea of Madness. These mountains served as the last natural defense against the horrors of the Abyss, their jagged peaks rising high enough to pierce the clouds.

The range was divided into three distinct sections:

The Moonlit Ridge near the Moonlit Forest where the elf reside, next to the Weeping Plains, where the largest known Abyssal Rift was located. It was a land of eternal twilight, where thick mist obscured vision and strange howls echoed through the valleys.

The Titan's Spine, the highest and most treacherous part of the range, where icy storms raged without warning. Few who attempted to cross it ever returned.

The Obsidian Descent, where the mountains sloped into vast, rocky caverns—believed to be ancient tunnels leading deep into the Abyss itself.

Even though the mountains were an imposing natural barrier, they were not impenetrable. Demon incursions were frequent, as lesser creatures often found ways to slip through hidden passes and underground tunnels. These infiltrators would descend into the Paisley Territory, bringing terror to the villages and towns near the border.

Whenever demons managed to break through, the Dantes, an elite squadron led by Desmond Paisley, was dispatched to hunt them down. Ruthless and efficient, the Dantes had earned a fearsome reputation, known for leaving nothing but demon corpses in their wake.

The village from which the caravan had departed was famous for its apples and juice, which they were hoping to sell at the Festival of Light—a grand celebration commemorating the Lord of Light's victory over the Lord of the Abyss.

Five days had passed since they left the village, traveling through checkpoints guarded against demon attacks. Yet, for the past day, they had encountered no patrols, no traders, no adventurers. The adults in the caravan had grown uneasy.

Then, a bloodcurdling shriek echoed from the left side of the forest.

KRIEEEK KREEEEK KRAAAH!

From the shadows, seven insect-eyed, humanoid creatures leaped onto the road—Scarb Demons. Agile yet weaker than most demons, they were still deadly in numbers.

The caravan consisted of five wagons. The first and fifth carried the adventurers hired for protection, while the second and fourth housed the merchants and their goods. The children, along with the bard and his self-proclaimed adventurer companions, were in the third wagon.

And that was exactly where the demons struck first.

The forest edge was a mere twenty feet from the road, but the Scarbs covered the distance in three powerful bounds.

ScreeEEEch!

Another squad burst from the trees, charging the fifth wagon. The adventurers reacted swiftly, dismounting and forming a tight defensive line.

A burly warrior raised his shield at the front, flanked by a swordsman and a spearman. Behind them, an enchanter whispered incantations, strengthening his allies. Perched atop the wagon, a marksman took aim.

Thunk!

An arrow pierced a demon's joint. A second bolt struck another in the left eye, sending it crashing against the shield line.

SPLAT!

The demon's skull shattered on impact.

Another lunged to the left, but the spearman intercepted it, driving his weapon through its throat. It convulsed and collapsed.

The swordsman sliced another demon clean in half.

With five demons slain in seconds, the remaining two hesitated—then fled back into the woods.

The adventurers steadied themselves, eyes scanning for more threats. Then, they turned toward the third wagon.

Their blood ran cold.

The seven demons that had attacked the children's wagon lay strewn around it—headless.

And there, sitting calmly inside the wagon as if nothing had happened, was a lone adventurer.