There are many speculations as to what caused it. Whispers passed from tongue to tongue, theories written and discarded, historians baffled, and philosophers left pondering.
But to this day, none of them completely hold a logical or theoretical sense.
Some say the gods grew tiresome of the new era, bored by the mundanity of peace, the arrogance of man, and the stagnant progression of the world. They longed for a spectacle, a grand display to rival the chaos of creation itself.
Some said the gods quarreled amongst themselves, debating whose ideals were superior—strength, wisdom, love, war, or chaos. Unable to agree, they sought a mortal who could embody all—an answer to their divine dilemma.
Others whispered darker tales—that the gods had grown weak, their power dwindling as mortals stopped believing. And so they conjured a trial, a grand game, a divine tournament disguised as a war, to stir worship, fear, and awe once more.
But regardless of the myth, all knew one truth:
That day, the skies split apart.
The oceans trembled.
The earth whispered in tongues no mortal could understand.
And the voice of the gods thundered across every corner of the world.
"We wish to witness the rise of a champion. A legend amongst legends. A king amongst kings. A beast amongst beasts. The one above all. A god who walks amongst mortals."
And so, the Divine Decree was made.
The one who conquers all lands, from the Frozen Wastes of the North to the Burning Sands of the South, who crushes armies, tames monsters, unites empires, and stands unchallenged atop the world...
Shall be granted a single wish by all the gods combined.
No limit. No rules.
Just one wish—capable of rewriting fate, bending reality, or even defying death itself.
And from that moment on, the world was thrown into absolute chaos.
The Divine Decree echoed through the hearts of all who lived—humans, elves, beastkin, dragons, demons, and even those who slumbered beneath the earth or watched from beyond the veil. Every being, every kingdom, every tribe, no matter how small or insignificant, now had one reason to fight.
World conquest.
The dream of standing above all creation, with the gods themselves kneeling to grant a single, unlimited wish, ignited a fire in the souls of all.
The weak and helpless dared to dream.
The broken and forgotten rose from the shadows, hungry for power.
The established reached their hands farther than ever before, desperate to solidify their rule.
And kings... kings feared their own heirs more than their enemies, for bloodlines meant nothing in the face of divine ambition.
Empires crumbled overnight. Alliances shattered like glass. Great heroes were born and slain within the same breath. Villains ruled kingdoms. Saints turned to warlords. The world became a battlefield where mercy was weakness, and ambition was the only currency that mattered.
For a long millennia, this era of endless struggle, shifting borders, and rivers of blood was known as:
The Age of Sovereign Flame.
A time where the fires of conquest burned eternal, and every soul was a spark hoping to become an inferno.
But now, in the stories passed down through hushed whispers and scorched scrolls, it is simply referred to as—
The Great War for the Single Wish.
A war not of justice, not of vengeance, nor of survival…
But of desire.
Desire so great, it split the heavens, and turned mortals into monsters.
But even the gods, in all their arrogance and yearning for spectacle, soon realized the truth.
If such senseless slaughter continued without end, if ambition remained unchecked, if bloodshed remained the only law—then all of creation would eventually exterminate itself. The mortals would burn their world to ash long before a victor ever rose.
And so, the gods imposed a single divine law—a rule that could not be broken, not by spell, blade, or will.
Every ruler of a nation shall be branded with the Sigil of Dominion—an ethereal mark unique to their land and people.
This mark not only bound them to their people, but also burdened them with responsibility. Alongside the sigil, they carried the List of Wishes—a living scroll composed of the hopes, dreams, and desires of every citizen under their rule.
These rulers became known across the world as Wish Carriers.
Only a Wish Carrier could make the divine wish upon victory.
Only a Wish Carrier could stand before the gods and speak the voice of their nation.
If a Wish Carrier were to die, their heir or the most capable citizen of their people—chosen by divine judgment—would inherit the mark, the list, and the responsibility of rulership.
But the gods were not fools. They understood betrayal and ambition could poison even this system.
So, they added a cruel twist… or sets of twists.
If a nation's Wish Carrier was killed by their own kin—one of their own citizens—then the sigil would vanish, and the entire nation's wishes would be nullified. The nation would be stripped of its right to participate in the Divine Wish.
If a nation's Wish Carrier was slain by another Wish Carrier, the defeated nation would also be stripped of its right to participate in the Divine Wish.
Their chance at the wish would die with their ruler.
This ensured loyalty.
Loyalty through fear.
Loyalty through consequence.
And yet, the gods allowed for submission too. If a Wish Carrier, instead of dying, pledged their loyalty to another Wish Carrier, the victor would inherit their mark, and both nations would be bound under one banner—a united front, their people joined, their wishes intertwined, their fate shared.
It was meant to contain the chaos. To channel war into something structured.
To make conquest... manageable.
And so the battlefield changed.
Kingdoms didn't fall overnight—they were annexed.
Assassinations became very rare—for betrayal meant obliteration.
Nations rose and fell, not just through strength, but through cunning, diplomacy, unity.
The Great War for the Single Wish became a war of nations against nations—of banners, borders, and brutal campaigns.
But even then… organized chaos is still chaos.