In an unknown era, life was born. A great war followed, and the world was destroyed.
The Five Symbols offered themselves in sacrifice, chaos was opened, the Cosmic Realm was formed, and the myriad races rose side by side.
In Year 1000, the myriad races began to scorn the descendants of these creators.
“What can you do besides fight?”
“Cultivating divine blood is too slow. Technology will take us to the next level!”
“Gods? Just a bunch of outdated relics.”
After the Grand Assembly of the Myriad Races, the gods quietly withdrew, leaving us to develop our so-called civilization as we pleased.
Then came the 1,842nd year after the gods’ retreat. Demons from beyond the heavens invaded, and the technology of the myriad races crumbled in an instant.
A Fire clansman craftsman kindled forbidden white flames in his palm.
A Golden clansman war god shattered his divine throne and became a sword that smote evil.
A Wood clansman healer sacrificed flesh and blood to create a towering tree of protection.
A Water clansman holy son became rain, washing the world of its filth.
A Soil clansman mountain sank into the earth, stabilizing the broken ley lines.
And we, the remnants of the myriad races, barely clinging to life, huddled in our last refuge. Kneeling outside the temple, we wept and pleaded, “Please, gods, save the world once more!”
And they, bearing the bloodlines of the divine clans, took mortal bodies and performed the deeds of gods. In this shattered age,
they fought to give us, the ones who had betrayed them, a chance to be reborn through fire.
