To be honest, this world is a mess—a beautiful mess, sure, but still a damn mess.
We've got so many different races running around, it's like some celestial intern got drunk, grabbed a fantasy trope blender, tossed in every magical creature ever imagined, and hit purée. You've got humans (that's me—hi), elves, dwarves, beastfolk, demi-humans, and then the really over-the-top ones: Devas, Asuras, vampires, and a few others I can't remember right now because my head feels like it's being jackhammered from the inside out. (Seriously, is it normal for your brain to throb like it's trying to claw its way out of your skull?)
Anyway, here's the rundown: Earth—our Earth—was originally the home of humans. That's right. We're not the guests here. We're the landlords. The OG residents. The others? Refugees.
Why? Because the Asuras—those overpowered, god-complex-having maniacs—built something nasty. Nasty enough to wipe out entire civilizations. Not just cities—civilizations. So the elves, dwarves, demi-humans, beastfolk—basically everyone who wasn't human—had their homes reduced to cosmic rubble and came crashing onto our metaphorical front lawn.
Now, you'd think someone would've helped them. Maybe the Devas? Nah. Those smug, glowing jerks were too busy admiring their reflections in pools of holy water or whatever it is they do. Vampires? Hah. Don't even get me started. They're just high-functioning parasites licking Asura boots like it's a five-star buffet.
But humans—we took them in. Not because we're noble or anything. We were desperate. The Asuras weren't finished after wrecking their worlds. Earth was next on the hit list, and we knew we couldn't take them alone.
So alliances were formed. The elves taught us how to actually use aether—turns out our version of magic was basically duct tape and prayer. The dwarves revamped our tech and infrastructure like mad geniuses hopped up on caffeine. And the beastfolk? Brought strength, bravery, and just enough chaos to make the battlefield interesting.
That was over three hundred years ago. And yeah, things got better. But the scars? Still here—etched into the land and into us. Earth became a stronghold. The last bastion of resistance.
And then, two hundred years ago, the Asuras finally showed up. Yeah, they didn't even bother attacking humans back in the old days. We weren't worth the effort. But after we started teaming up with the other races and actually becoming a threat? That's when we got their attention.
This time, though, they were in for a surprise. We weren't the soft targets they remembered. Our tech? Leagues better. Our magic? Sharper. Our people? Tougher. We pushed them back. Even managed to stop whatever horror project they were cooking up. Well, mostly.
They still managed to grab a chunk of land.
And that's where everything went sideways. The land they took? They corrupted it. Twisted it into something dark and unrecognizable.
Eventually, there was a "peace agreement." The Asuras could stay on Earth—as long as they didn't attack anyone. A cold peace. "Live and let live." Hilarious, right?
Of course they didn't stick to it.
They got sneaky. Started offering contracts—deals of power—to some of Earth's people. And surprise, surprise, a bunch of idiots took the bait. Betrayed their own kind for strength, status, whatever made them feel important.
Those corrupted by the Asuras became their henchmen. Fought against us. The war reignited. Factions rose. Trust shattered.
And as if that wasn't enough chaos…
Sixteen years ago—yep, the same year this meat suit of mine was born—the aether density on Earth spiked like crazy. Nobody knew why. Not the humans. Not the elves. Not even the smug Devas. Heck, even the Asuras looked confused—and that's when we knew something was really wrong.
Then came the Cataclysm.
Gates appeared—massive, swirling anomalies connecting to other dimensions. And through them came monsters. Not Asura-made. Not even Asura-level. Something else entirely. These things didn't care who or what you were—human, elf, vampire, Asura—it didn't matter. If you were breathing, you were on the menu.
For the first time in… well, ever, we were all technically on the same side.
Sort of.
The aether boost let us develop new forms of resistance. And the rule of the gates is simple: clear the monsters inside before the gate fully opens, or enjoy your front row seat to a full-on invasion. Just like in those manhwa and web novels I used to read—only way less fun and way more likely to end with your guts decorating the pavement.
So yeah. That's where we are now.
Still fighting the Asuras. Still dealing with their corrupted lapdogs. Still fending off nightmares from other dimensions.
I'm only sixteen, and I've already got enough world-ending problems to fill three lifetimes.
And somehow, this headache is still the worst part.
---
Oh, right. The protagonist. The "hero."
He's one of the Chosen—basically, a mortal empowered by one of the Ascendants. The Ascendants are these cosmic beings, fragments of something called the Enigma Force. They're the embodiment of light and order—the ones who keep the universe from collapsing in on itself like a badly-made burrito.
There are five of them. They don't step in directly, of course. They borrow their power to mortals who can enforce order in the mortal realm.
Two hundred years ago, during the first big clash with the Asuras, one of the Chosen showed up. That was a game-changer. That's part of how the alliance even survived—because of a Chosen tipping the scales.
And the new one? Yeah. He's my age. Sixteen.
What makes him terrifying? He's the incarnate of Sol, the First Radiance—the original light. Basically, the universe's version of "break in case of apocalypse."
Lucky us.