Comprising seven continents and seven principal monarchies, the world was dominated by three distinct races: elves, dwarves, and humans.
Of the seven continents, three lay in the far south, three in the far north, and one in the center. Yet the races controlled only four of them. The remaining three, more specifically those in the far south, were simply too hostile for the races to inhabit.
And yet, those continents were home to a dominant species known as the Fallen.
The Fallen were not considered members of the races. Physiologically speaking, they resembled humans, and although they were not elves either, they possessed comparable magical abilities. They were more adept at forging than any dwarf. Without a doubt, the Fallen had inherited the finest traits of all three races.
In fact, the two sides of the world—the races and the Fallen—were locked in a full-scale war. Though there were nuances and countless details surrounding it, the war could be reduced to a single sentence:
"A struggle not to be eaten."
The Fallen used the races as sources of food, as well as for the creation of tools, decorations, and artifacts. Perhaps, to the Fallen, the continents inhabited by the races were nothing more than vast pastures where livestock was raised.
In short, it was a story of a brutal war, almost like an apocalyptic prophecy that demanded attention.
The prophecy stated that every two hundred years, the Wall of the Races, which divided the world in two and separated the races from the Fallen, would weaken, allowing the Fallen to enter the territories of the races. The event would come to be known as the Great Invasion.
To avert disaster and escape destruction, the kingdoms would summon seven defenders from another age.
In the ancient language of the elves, they were called Sürän Püncü Tänü.
The dwarves, with their loud, resonant voices, knew them as Runa Karu.
But humans preferred to call them Heroes.
---
Brown eyes opened.
It had been about three days since he was captured.
Why am I still here? Eídal wondered for what must have been the hundredth time, but there was no one to answer him.
One of the things that surprised him most was that, rather than killing him, the Fallen had adopted him as a pet.
"Adorable creature."
That was the nickname they had given him.
Though Eídal could not remember ever being cute or small, much less adorable.
Then why? Affection or pity? Ahhh, it doesn't matter anymore.
The questions simply continued to pile up.
For one thing, the Fallen rarely removed his muzzle, and whenever they did, they never paid attention to anything he said. Expecting them to answer any of his questions would have been excessively optimistic.
At only ten years old, nostalgia and pain conspired to moisten the corners of his eyes.
The only reason he could still hold back his tears was because he knew that everything was happening inside his head.
Yes. It's only a dream.
Exhausted, the newly christened "adorable creature" fell asleep.
---
Brown eyes opened.
It had been about eight days since he was captured.
I'm going to get out of here, aren't I? Eídal thought.
It was not the first time the question had crossed his mind.
Eídal, now officially known as "an adorable creature," remained chained atop his litter box, in the same luxurious room where it had all begun.
Meanwhile, the muzzle and shackles seemed to grow a little tighter with each passing day.
---
Brown eyes opened.
A month had passed since he was captured.
It hurts, Eídal thought.
The adorable creature felt increasingly restless as the shackles dug deeply into his skin.
But there was one question he could never stop repeating:
Why am I still here?
Again and again.
Again and again.
This couldn't be real.
It hurts... There shouldn't be any pain in a dream.
The pain in my chest, the exhaustion, the thirst... Everything, everything feels so real.
No. It must just be fatigue. I should listen to Íngrid and stop staying up so late. Yes.
With his range of motion restricted by the chains, there was not much he could do.
Even so, in an attempt to relieve the anxiety tightening in his chest, the adorable creature laboriously rose to his feet atop his litter box. He stretched his knees a little and rotated his wrists. He did the same with his neck and cracked several fingers.
Then he fell silent for a long while.
But... I'm going to wake up, aren't I?
---
Brown eyes opened.
A month and a half had passed since he was captured.
It can't be... I'm not going to wake up, the adorable creature thought in horror.
By this point, he had grown tired of repeatedly banging his head against his knees.
The wounds caused by the shackles rubbing against his skin had begun to bleed.
I'm never, ever going to wake up!
Messing up his hair, he buried his face in his hands.
His eyes wide with panic, he repeated:
Tell me this is all a lie, please.
---
Brown eyes opened.
Three and a half months had passed since he was captured.
"Ha! What's wrong with me? Ha-ha-ha. I shouldn't worry," the adorable creature thought with renewed optimism.
He had never been taken out of the luxurious room.
And yet, a sudden hope overwhelmed him so completely that he began to hum.
Yep. I'm sure I'll wake up soon.
Ha! I shouldn't worry so much. I'm sure I'll wake up soon.
I shouldn't worry.
This is going to end.
Yes... very soon. It won't be much longer.
Outside, was it early morning or deep into the night? Perhaps midday?
It did not matter what time it was.
The adorable creature fell into a deep sleep.
---
Brown eyes opened.
After four months in captivity, the adorable creature's hope began to falter once more.
It's a lie. I'm not going to wake up. I'm not going to wake up.
The shackles, meanwhile, dug deeper and deeper into his flesh.
---
Brown eyes opened.
A tide of emotions, wavering between hope and despair, swept over him.
First, the adorable creature told himself:
Ha-ha-ha. I shouldn't worry. Surely tomorrow... yes, tomorrow I'll wake up.
But immediately afterward, he contradicted himself:
I'm not going to wake up. I'm not going to wake up. I'm not going to wake up!
Again and again, he swung between hope and despair.
It won't be much longer. I shouldn't worry.
And then:
No. I can't do this!
And again:
Yes... very soon. It won't be much longer, right?! Once I open my eyes, once I open my eyes, surely everything will be over! Just one more time. One last time, and it'll all be over. Just one more time.
---
Until, at last, his brown eyes opened for the final time.
Nothing had changed.
Four months and thirteen days had been enough to make him realize the truth.
I couldn't wake up, he thought bitterly. That... was to be expected.
He accepted it.
After thinking about it for so long, the adorable creature finally reached the conclusion he had feared most.
Th-they really did throw me away.
That was to be expected. It was obvious.
And yet... it's still... cruel!
Irony gave way to anger.
Cruel!
Once he came to terms with reality, he began to hate the villagers who had ignored all his efforts and repaid him by handing him over to the Fallen.
Yet he could not deny that some of that anger was directed at himself as well—for believing that everything was merely a dream.
Today, at last, denial was cast aside, making way for a new emotion.
Anger.
Ah-ha-ha... ha... ha... ha.
Sudden spasms overtook him, erupting into a hollow laugh.
The feelings he had kept bottled up—the denial that had transformed into anger—grew stronger and stronger.
On the day the shackles began scraping against his bones, the adorable creature sank into a deep sleep inside that luxurious room, muttering bitterly to himself:
Cruel...