Brewing Storm

Nar, a realm widely known as hell in the seven realms, is an asylum to all the creatures of the dark forces. Literally meaning fire in the Amayan language, it is used as a form of a curse by all residents in the six realms towards their most hated person.

"I wish you an eternal fire."

"I curse you and your seven generations to all rot in flame." Are commonly used forms of curses spat by deeply aggrieved individuals seeking justice for an injustice done to them.

An injustice that implicates their entire family.

Not finding an outlet to vent their rage because of their low social standing and lack of power, they wish upon their most resented culprit an eternal fire, an eternal life living in Nar, the realm of the vilest, deadliest, and most twisted forces of evil.

In this realm, humanoid monsters, three-headed demons, shapeshifting snakes, eagles, and werewolves, as well as blood-sucking vampires are the supreme beings. Creatures of all origins different from the six supreme species bow and serve as slaves to maintain their existence and safeguard the lineage of their race.

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1000 years ago, in the Eternal Mountains of Nar

Drip!

Drip!

Deep within the depths of an endless chain of mountains, the dripping sound of liquid hitting on hard stone reverberated throughout the silent mountain fortress.

There was a faint mist that hampered the visibility of the area to a confusing degree.

However, despite the hazy fog, one could still faintly make out the shadows of people standing at the very top of the mountain peaks, calm and motionless as if they were stone statues.

Only the sound of their fluttering clothes blowing from the gales of fierce winds could be heard across the heavens.

Between these two people, one of them was a youth that was no older than 20 years, clad in white clothes.

The youth was incredibly handsome with a flawless facial appearance. His rather ordinary-looking eyes contained a scant amount of attractiveness and fascination that seemed capable of stealing the soul of whomever gazed into them.

And on the other side was a thin man wearing black robes. This was a young man who looked to be around 20 to 25 years, with hair tied up in the fashion of a crane's neck.

His blue eyes lit up with a lively spirit that seemed to shine with a bright light, lighting up the entire area. His gaze that was like a sharp sword, made one feel uncomfortable looking straight at him.

"Bang!"

The two men's strikes were impeccably fast, and the sounds made from their weapons striking against each other had an endless stream of metallic rings.

They bounced off the rock walls, leaving streams of fresh blood slowly leaking from their battered bodies and giant holes adorning the landscape around them.

As the two men's strength continued to climb up, they simultaneously let out a furious roar that shook the heavens like a lighting bolt, piercing the eardrums.

At the instant when the two were about to collide against each other, a powerful and vast amount of world energy in the form of a seven-colored lightning descended from the skies, striking the blooded figures into nothingness.

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500 years ago, in a spatial village of Nar

Below Blazing Height's Mountain, located in the East Forest Mountain Range, was a mountain village with simple customs. They cultivated the fields to make a living and worshiped Lord Tarke, being cut off from the rest of the world.

Early in the morning, all the villagers assembled in front of the village's main gate to see off a young teenage girl. Although the girl looked both thin and weak, her clean demeanor made her appear very clever.

The clothes she was wearing, albeit somewhat commonplace, were sparkling white. Upon the girl, these clothes, coupled with her pure-looking eyes, gave her a sense of intelligence.

The girl was called Eona.

"Village elders, I have to leave now but I don't want to part with you all." Her face was painted with reluctance, making her original lovable appearance even more simple and honest.

"You must persevere no matter what complications you run into in the outside world. Don't come running back after walking out because your road is ahead!" The village head's face was benevolent as he patted the young girl's shoulder.

"Yes Eona, do not come back just because things get tough. You need to grit your teeth and stick through." An older village woman advised with a grim expression.

"Looking back is not the way of our village, do not disgrace us by giving up midway."

"You can do it. At most, you will just fall and get back up."

"Yes! We are cheering for you!" The cheering sound resonated in the open fields, filling her eyes with tears.

Being encouraged all around by her fellow villagers, she firmly nodded her head, looked profoundly at the villagers and surroundings, then turned around and walked away with large strides, gradually disappearing into the distant horizon.

As they watched the vanishing figure of the girl, all the villagers' emotions stirred. However, the reluctance in their eyes was instantly replaced with horror. The seemingly benevolent elder from before shuddered, tears streaming down his face as he dropped.

At that instant, the bright day became dark night. Even before the strike of the seven-colored lightning fell, the ground was already rumbling and trembling fiercely.

The moment it collided with the villagers, it did not do any terrifying damage.

Rather, it completely vanished with them.

At the same time, the originally dark sky was enveloped by light once again, and the former serene day was restored.

However, there was now the presence of an awning void, as if an important essence of the land was removed, leaving behind a flimsy cover.

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450 years ago, the Valley of Doom in Nar.

"Witch, we are giving you two choices, you either become our slave and enslave your descendants to our race to redeem your freedom or all those associated with you and your kin will face complete annihilation."

"Hahaha.....You beast, twenty years ago you tortured and slaughtered my entire family, executing my subjects like hordes. From that moment onwards, I have hated you and your race with a burning passion! Today, I would rather die than be subjected to your humiliation!"

Versailles stood on the edge of a cliff, dressed in deep blue robes that had been torn to shreds, her hair disheveled, entire body covered in blood. She looked around her, her blood-soaked robes fluttering lightly in the mountain breeze like a war flag.

Fresh blood flowed from the numerous wounds on her body. And just by standing there for a short moment, Versailles had already accumulated a large spring of blood beneath her feet. Enemies surrounded her from all sides, leaving her with no way out.

She was going to die here.

She understood her situation but even in the face of death, her expression did not change. It was indifferent; her gaze calm, her purple eyes like deep pools of water in a lotus pond.

The beastly creatures heavily surrounded her, some roaring, some sneering, and some had eyes gleaming with light as they held onto their wounds, looking on fearfully.

Versailles laughed sorrowfully, unwillingness evident in her hate-filled eyes. As she gazed at the last dying brilliance of the setting sun, a blood tear leaked from the corner of her eye.

In the end, she was not able to get her revenge.

Her enemies were still alive and well, while all her desperate struggles for survival ended up like the dying sun, attractive and commendable, but still useless and weak.

It lacked the strength to change its predetermined course in life, preventing itself from sinking beneath the heavens.

The group of beasts surged forward, roaring with ferocity. But at this very moment, with a loud bang, Versailles was engulfed in a blinding surge of seven-colored lighting.