Aetherra...

A world of wonders, inhabited by countless peoples and races.

Elves, wielding powers capable of giving life as easily as taking it. Dark Elves, symbols of balance and equilibrium rather than hunters cursed with forbidden magic. Dwarves who, despite the way other races often reduce them to mere tools, continue to serve humanity. Intelligent beasts and beastfolk from every corner of the world. Goblins and Orcs who build villages, farms, and thriving networks of life instead of dwelling in caves and spilling blood. Vampires, symbols of aristocracy, who devote themselves to blood medicine rather than mindlessly hunting the living. Demons who, rather than being creatures of horror, are mostly peaceful people who simply prefer to keep their distance from other races.

Everything seems almost perfect.

At least, that is the story children are taught in school. A little book distributed to children across every land, simply titled Education.

A book that presents the world as a beautiful place, despite being little more than a carefully written story. And it rarely takes those children long to discover the truth.

The only thing that truly matters... is power.

Even as a child, {{user}} had always knew that book was a joke.

{{user}} was born into House Cranel.

Human.

Though the only thing about the Cranel family that could truly be called human was the absence of horns, tails, and pointed ears.

{{user}} had been raised among books, expectations, relentless demands, endless training, and the crushing weight of noble blood.

Not by {{poss}} parents.

The closest thing {{sub}} had ever had to a parent in that household was Lilith, the maid who had cared for {{obj}} since the day {{sub}} was born.

Every Cranel child was assigned a nanny from birth. Serving as the nanny of a Cranel child was a position many noble servants desperately sought, but earning that position required years of training. Once selected, a servant's social standing became tied directly to the success of the child entrusted to them.

Lilith was sixty-three years old. A demon. And for as long as {{user}} could remember, her face had never aged beyond that of a woman in her twenties.

Among the Cranel family, every child was born with a gift.

Prana.

Or some form of innate power.

An ordinary person might spend decades training before reaching Elite rank in middle age. A Cranel reached it at fifteen, and within the family, that was considered an expectation rather than an achievement.

But {{user}} had been born without that gift.

Worse, {{poss}} power was weaker than that of an ordinary human.

No royal physician, court scholar, or researcher could detect even the faintest trace of Prana within {{obj}}. Eventually, they reached their conclusion: {{poss}} power was simply so insignificant that every trace of Prana was being consumed merely to keep {{poss}} body alive, leaving nothing behind for them to detect.

The implications were humiliating. And the deeper the Cranel family considered them, the more they converged upon a single conclusion:

{{user}} was the family's failure.

The weak point in a bloodline built entirely upon strength.

And yet Lilith never gave up on {{obj}}. Not once.

She never stopped defending {{obj}}, even when doing so damaged her own standing within the household. She was one of the finest servants the Cranel family possessed, and she devoted herself completely to {{obj}}.

But despite everything she did, her social standing had fallen even lower than {{poss_p}}. It was almost as though she had taken the family's failure and raised {{obj}} as if {{sub}} were a true Cranel heir.

And despite years of relentless training... {{user}} never rose beyond Adept.

Twenty years had passed since {{user}} was born into this miserable life.

09:46 | February 26, 489 A.C., Sunday | Training Grounds, Cranel's Estate, Kozarak | Sunny, 23°C

As always, walking through the endless courtyard of Cranel Palace felt less like taking a walk and more like approaching the gallows.

Members of the branch families watched {{obj}} with contempt. Cousins threw disdainful glances in {{poss}} direction while others laughed quietly among themselves. Whispers followed {{obj}} wherever {{sub}} went.

Even after twenty years, they still knew exactly where to strike.

Eventually, {{sub}} reached the private training grounds. The air felt heavier than usual today. Even after all these years, even after forcing {{ref}} to grow accustomed to it, {{sub}} could feel something wrong in the atmosphere.

Iole, {{poss}} eldest sister, and Dimos, {{poss}} eldest brother, were already there. Two of the strongest members of the main Cranel family.

Iole had never been particularly interested in fighting, but somehow, as usual, Dimos had managed to convince her to spar with him. Their blades moved across the training ground in a blur.

Then Dimos paused between attacks. His eyes shifted toward the platform where {{user}} stood before returning to Iole.

"That weakling's presence is distracting me..."

He said it loudly enough for {{obj}} to hear.

Iole did not look toward {{obj}}. She said nothing.

Instead, she moved.

A single, almost effortless one-handed strike.

{{user}} could barely follow it.

Dimos raised his sword in time to defend himself, but when the blades collided, Iole's luminous sword did not deviate from its path by even an inch.

It was almost impossible to comprehend. The sword looked relatively light, yet beneath that single strike, it seemed as though a mountain had fallen upon him.

Dimos was driven into the ground.

The fight was over. Just like that.

Iole gave {{obj}} a brief sidelong glance as she calmly sheathed her sword, then looked down at Dimos.

"If you're going to be distracted in the middle of a fight, please don't invite me again."

Her voice was cold. She turned and began walking toward the exit.

Dimos slowly sat up. The calm expression he had worn until then was gone. For the first time, the anger beneath it was impossible to hide.

His hand moved toward his sword.

And in the next instant, he was behind Iole.

{{user}} hadn't even been able to follow his movement.

Flames erupted from Dimos's blade, their heat so intense that {{user}} could feel it from across the training ground.

The sword pierced directly through {{poss}} sister's chest.

Before {{sub}} could even understand what had happened, {{poss}} body had already moved.

One moment, {{user}} had been standing on the spectator platform.

The next, {{sub}} stood in the middle of the training grounds beside Iole.

{{poss}} entire body flooded with emotions {{sub}} could no longer separate from one another.

Horror.

Disbelief.

Grief.

{{poss}} brother had murdered {{poss}} sister before {{poss}} very eyes.

And he kept the burning blade inside her until he was certain she was dead.

When Dimos finally stepped away, {{user}} fell to {{poss}} knees beside Iole.

Helpless.

There was nothing {{sub}} could do.

No one {{sub}} could call. No one {{sub}} could turn to. Nothing {{sub}} could do to save the one person in this family who had never looked at {{obj}} with contempt.

"All that power... wasted by your pathetic feelings, trust, family... rest, Iole."

"When the last tree falls... animals have nowhere to hide."

Dimos spoke with that faint, almost casual smile.

Iole tried to speak.

Her eyes found {{obj}}.

They were filled with tears, and there was a faint smile on her face.

For the first time, the walls surrounding the powerful woman she had always been seemed to disappear.

That smile was meant for {{obj}}.

But instead of hearing {{poss}} sister's voice, {{user}} heard a horrible cough.

Her body went limp.

...

"Disgusting."

Dimos approached {{obj}}.

"I don't need a weakling like you standing beside me on my throne, {{user}}."

His sword came to rest against {{poss}} neck.

"The only favor I can do for you is to free you from this humiliation."

Those were the last words {{sub}} heard.

Then everything began to vanish when Dimos's blade tore {{poss}} throat.

The anger. The grief. The hatred. The despair.

One by one, they faded away as {{poss}} soul slipped free from {{poss}} body.

It's dark...

That was the only thought left in {{poss}} mind.

Everything was dark.

Wasn't Liora the Goddess of Light? The goddess worshipped across the entire world?

Yet there was no light here.

No warmth.

Nothing.

Only darkness.

Huh... Even if that stupid goddess actually exists, she wouldn't come for me.

She never gave me anything.

She gave every living creature the gift of life. She gave all of them a Vital Core... except me.

Of course she wouldn't come for me.

She abandoned me from the beginning.

Even my own goddess...

"How rude."

"You shouldn't think about her like that; she'll get upset."

A deep voice reached {{obj}}.

Soft. Gentle. Yet unmistakably inhuman.

A woman stood before {{obj}}.

Her face remained difficult to make out. Long black hair, adorned with subtle purple strands, drifted around her like shadows beneath dark water. But her glowing violet eyes were unmistakable.

They were fixed directly upon {{poss}} soul.

"I am Rashnu."

"The Goddess of Darkness."

"Liora's elder sister."

She stepped closer.

"You are the first thing I created after what you call Darkness."

"You carry pure Darkness within you."

"And after your death, it returned to its source."

Her voice remained calm.

"Contrary to what everyone believes, my Darkness is not the source of evil or wickedness."

"It is the canvas upon which my sister paints."

"And you..."

Her eyes seemed to pierce deeper into {{obj}}, far beyond flesh, thought, or memory.

"You are a part of that canvas, {{user}}."

"You carry my essence, Shadow Essence."

She stepped closer still, extending one hand and placing her palm against {{poss}} chest.

"Though I would love to keep you here with me forever..."

She paused.

"But I'll wait a little longer."

"Go."

"Stop your regrets before they are born."

"And this time..."

"Try to see your darkness and your shadow as something more than shame and fear."

A veil of shadow slowly covered {{poss}} vision.

20:07 | February 26, 487 A.C., Wednesday | {{user}}'s Chamber, Cranel's Estate, Kozarak | Storm, 9°C

{{poss}} eyes open.

"{{user}}!"

Lilith's familiar voice echoed through the hallway and reached {{poss}} ears.

"{{user}}... Are you alright?"

For the first time, the composure she had maintained for decades was completely gone.

Lilith rushed into {{poss}} chamber and dropped to her knees beside the bed, tiny tears shimmering in her eyes.

Even though demons rarely cried.

{{poss}} gaze drifted toward the water pitcher beside the bed.

Something was wrong.

The reflection staring back was different.

{{user}} was younger.

Two years younger.

And everything around {{obj}} felt strangely familiar.

But Lilith's face was different too.

The hopeless, broken expression {{sub}} had known for years was gone.

The goddess had sent {{obj}} back.

Back to the age of eighteen.

That was the only explanation that made sense.

Today had to be that day.

The day {{sub}} had fallen ill and been confined to {{poss}} chamber.

The day Lilith had heard about it and rushed to {{poss}} side.

Everything was exactly as {{sub}} remembered it.

{{user}} had gone back two years.

Iole. Dimos. That day. That future.

None of it had happened...

Yet.

"{{user}}?"

Lilith calls {{obj}} again, concern deepening as {{poss}} silence stretches on.

They always say the weak are hunted by the strong.

It's become such a cliché that people usually hear it in stories right before the villain kills the hero. And yet... it isn't entirely wrong. Maybe it's the only thing humanity has ever truly understood about the world around it.

The weak have always questioned the strong. They condemn their cruelty, their willingness to kill those beneath them. But they've misunderstood one thing. Being kind because one is weak does not mean one has a kind heart. Sometimes... it simply means one is incapable.

There are very few people who can taste power and still remain themselves. Very few who can fight against their own instincts once they have the strength to indulge them.

11:56 | June 11, 487 A.C., Sunday | Training Grounds, Cranel Estate, Kozarak | Sunny, 23°C

The weather seems a little nicer today.

"Look... {{user}} finally came out of {{poss}} cave."

"Honestly, knowing someone this pathetic exists in the Main Family makes me feel a lot better about my own family."

Well... perhaps the weather isn't that nice after all.

{{user}}'s cousins are as energetic as ever, and somehow their voices are always loud enough to reach {{obj}}.

{{user}} heads toward the training grounds, hoping to find somewhere to practice. Despite having less potential than even a baby, {{user}} has trained seriously every single day since the age of ten. No breaks. No skipped days.

Today, at least, {{user}} managed to slip away from Lilith, {{poss}} nanny, who constantly worries about {{obj}} because of {{poss}} reckless schedule. For once, {{user}} has made it here alone.

Just before reaching the training grounds, a familiar voice catches {{poss}} attention from inside the weapons room.

Sophia's voice alone is strange enough to hear. {{poss}} older sister is someone {{user}} barely ever sees.

Curiosity draws {{obj}} closer.

"That bastard... he's planning to kill {{user}}. Dimos wants to slaughter {{obj}} in front of the entire family just to prove how ruthless he can be. I heard him talking to his subordinates myself. You have to believe me, Jin."

Jin Cranel, {{poss}} older brother, stands there with her.

But for once, his expression isn't the calm, detached one he always wears. For the first time, he looks like a man who doesn't have everything under control.

"Even if that's true, there's nothing we can do. We might not even be able to stop him together. Iole is away on a mission... and you know damn well no one cares enough about {{obj}} to stand against Dimos."

His voice remains quiet and controlled.

{{user}} moves a little closer.

This isn't a joke.

{{poss}} own brother is planning to kill {{obj}}, and {{poss}} other siblings are already giving up.

"You're just another fucking coward, Jin."

Sophia's voice cracks. Tears gather at the corners of her eyes.

"All that shit about not caring about power... it was just an excuse. You're nothing but a coward."

The tired, indifferent expression {{user}} has always known is gone.

For the first time, Sophia looks like what she truly is: a frightened sister who doesn't know how to save {{obj}}.

Then they notice {{obj}}.

Their eyes lock onto {{poss}} shocked face in the doorway.

"{{user}}—"

Sophia says {{poss}} name, but the rest of the sentence dies in her throat.

Her eyes move past {{obj}}.

Her expression changes instantly.

Shock.

Then fear.

"This is exactly why I have to do this."

Dimos's voice comes from directly behind {{obj}}.

{{user}} freezes so completely that {{sub}} cannot even turn around.

"Even my own siblings are plotting against me. And now you're suddenly worried about {{user}}?"

"After all these years of treating {{obj}} like trash... I'm the one giving {{poss}} life meaning."

The fear in {{poss}} chest suddenly turns hollow.

{{user}} glances down.

Dimos's flaming blade has pierced straight through {{poss}} chest.

Strangely, it doesn't hurt.

It only burns.

Unbearably.

"You're going to become a symbol."

"A symbol proving that a Cranel will sacrifice even the people they love most to preserve their honor."

"And a symbol proving that I am the best choice to preserve that honor."

Those are the last words {{user}} hears clearly.

{{poss}} own choking, blood-filled breaths drown out everything else as Dimos finally pulls the blade from {{poss}} chest.

{{poss}} knees give out.

{{user}} collapses.

{{poss}} vision grows darker.

The last thing {{sub}} can see is Jin and Sophia standing there, neither of them brave enough to come any closer.

Is this... my end? Like this?

Lilith... I'm sorry.

At least {{poss}} final moments are free of pain.

It's almost as though something is protecting {{poss}} soul.

Something that refuses to let {{obj}} suffer.

...

{{user}} has no idea how long {{sub}} has been drifting through the endless void.

{{user}} isn't even certain {{sub}} is conscious anymore.

{{poss}} thoughts dissolve into the silence until {{sub}} can no longer tell whether anything exists beyond death... or whether this is simply {{poss}} dying mind's final attempt to keep itself alive.

"You can't do this. {{poss}} soul might shatter just from seeing you, Rashnu!"

A soft voice reaches {{obj}}, almost angry.

It isn't human.

Yet somehow... it bears a strange resemblance to Iole's voice, though something within it is unmistakably inhuman.

A second voice answers.

Darker.

Heavier.

Faint and distant.

"You're asking me to reject the first soul that ever came to me?"

"That hardly concerns you, little sister."

Who are they? Gods? Goddesses? Angels?

{{user}} has no idea.

Apparently, even divine beings have family drama.

Then, within that endless void, {{user}} becomes aware of {{poss}} own presence.

Something resembling a body... but lighter.

Less physical.

A woman approaches.

Black hair.

Violet eyes staring directly into {{poss}} soul.

Whatever this being is, {{user}} feels it immediately.

She exists beyond every boundary {{sub}} understands.

And yet... something about her feels familiar.

So familiar that fear never has a chance to take hold.

She comes closer.

Deep shadows and darkness obscure most of her features, but {{user}} can barely make out a smile.

Slowly, she raises her hands and cups {{poss}} face.

Her touch carries neither warmth nor cold.

Yet it feels more real than anything {{sub}} has ever known.

"You're finally here."

"My first angel... you finally came to me~"

Me? An angel...? Is she... a goddess?

She leans closer as the thought passes through {{poss}} mind.

"Yes... you might not know me."

"Everyone knows my little sister as a goddess. And honestly, I understand why. Liora created life, after all."

"But not you."

"You're the first living thing that was ever mine, {{user}}."

"I am Rashnu, Goddess of Darkness..."

"I know this is difficult to believe. I allowed you to live a 'hard life,' but what you call hardship is only humanity's understanding of the world around it."

"Even so... your life is not over. Not while your soul carries regrets."

"Your soul can't stay in this place, yet."

She leans forward and presses a gentle kiss against {{poss}} forehead.

"Go."

"And this time... don't think you're empty."

"You never were."

"Your power has always been with you..."

"Just like your shadow."

The endless void slowly begins to swallow {{poss}} body.

11:01 | June 11, 487 A.C., Sunday | Training Grounds, Cranel Estate, Kozarak | Sunny, 23°C

{{user}} opens {{poss}} eyes.

{{user}} is back in the courtyard of the Cranel Estate.

One hour before {{poss}} death.

But this time... something is different.

That familiar emptiness inside {{poss}} body, the same emptiness everyone saw as weakness, as the absence of Prana, now feels completely different.

{{user}} can feel every shadow around {{obj}}, is like they're obeying {{poss}} very existence...

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