sat quietly inside the ancient Rodieck library, a place that seemed detached from the flow of time. The building had stood far longer than most kingdoms in Alteria. Its walls were made of cold, aged gray stone, adorned with ancient emblems nearly worn away by time.
The afternoon sunlight filtered through tall, dusty windows, forming beams of light that drifted between towering bookshelves.
The air in this room was always the same—silent, heavy, and filled with the scent of old paper that was both calming and oppressive.
Before me lay a thick book with a simple title: The History of the Continent of Alteria.
I exhaled slowly, trying to ease a mind that was never truly at rest.
This world might appear peaceful… at least to those who had never approached the borders.
In the great cities, life moved undisturbed. Merchants shouted as they offered their goods, children ran freely with laughter, and nobles busied themselves with their petty political games.
But I knew all of that was only the surface—a comforting illusion that did not reflect reality.
I turned the page, feeling the rough texture of old paper beneath my fingertips.
The writing in this book did not attempt to beautify reality.
It was honest.
It was dark.
This world had never truly been free from conflict. War never ended—it merely changed form and waited for the right moment to return.
Five hundred years ago, the four great races—humans, elves, dwarves, and orcs—finally reached their limits. A war that had lasted centuries drained everything: blood, resources, even hope.
In their exhaustion, they chose to stop.
A peace treaty was signed, bringing an end to the great war that had devastated the world.
I paused, staring at a single word written neatly on the page:
peace.
A beautiful word… too beautiful.
Because I knew that beauty concealed fragility.
The treaty may have ended war between the races, but it never truly erased the hatred rooted deep within them. That peace was fragile, like thin glass that could shatter at any moment.
I took a deep breath and continued reading.
The next page spoke of the great kingdoms that rose after the treaty. Among all the names, one felt heavier:
The Kingdom of Almenia.
It was not merely mentioned—it was emphasized.
Almenia was known as one of the greatest powers in all of Alteria, and the reason was simple—its location.
Their territory bordered directly with the Demon Realm.
A land that was never truly still.
Even reading its name sent a chill down my spine.
The Demon Realm was not merely a dark territory. It felt alive, as if it possessed a will of its own beyond human understanding. The laws of nature there were different, and darkness was not just a shadow—it was real, moving, watching.
At the border between Almenia and that realm, war was not history.
It was routine.
Something that happened every single day.
Knights stood along the border fortress, guarding the thin line that separated the human world from darkness. They lived in constant readiness. Their swords were always within reach. Their armor was never truly set aside.
And every night, when the sun set—
the demons came.
They came without end, in waves that never ceased. Their attacks were brutal. Their screams tore through the night, clashing with the sound of steel.
I swallowed, imagining it all.
A sky without stars.
A thick mist swallowing the light.
Flickering flames like eyes watching from afar.
In the midst of it all, the knights stood firm, holding back an endless tide of darkness.
My hand tightened into a fist.
This was not just a story.
This was reality.
A reality far from here, far from the comfort of this library.
I looked at the last page I had read. The words felt heavier. The sentence was short, yet deep.
"In a world filled with conflict and war…"
I stopped.
There was something about that line.
The way it was written felt different.
As if the author knew something left unsaid.
As if all of this was only the beginning.
I closed the book slowly. The soft sound of its pages brushing together echoed in the silence.
Outside, the sunlight turned red, signaling the end of the day.
I stood up, feeling the cold air touch my skin.
For a moment, a strange feeling arose.
As if the world outside was waiting for something.
Not just the night…
but change.
I took a deep breath.
The word fate crossed my mind.
Simple, yet heavy.
And for some reason, I felt that fate was no longer still.
It had begun to move.
Slowly, but surely.
Like a long shadow following the fading light.
This world might still seem calm on the surface, but beneath it, something was awakening—waiting for the right moment to emerge.
And when that moment came…
no one would truly be ready.
Not even me.
I might be nothing more than a small part of the storm to come.