Chapter One:Prologue

The kingdom of Kaladan was a wondrous land, vast and blessed with abundant natural resources. Its bountiful harvest and wealth were the envy of neighbouring kingdoms. There was no shortage of peace and joy in the kingdom, and its people lived in harmony under the protection of the mighty Kaladan army. The kingdom's reputation was such that none dared to challenge it.

However, there was one thing that threatened the peace and unity of Kaladan. It was the existence of a group of people who were branded as "Witches" for lack of a better word at the time. These people were blessed with the power to manifest and manipulate different energies to create inexplicable acts.

The rest of the people of Kaladan looked upon the "Witches" with envy, hatred, and fear. They detested the idea of individuals wielding so much power that threatened their peace and stability. They feared that such power could potentially plunge their kingdom into ruin. As a result, anyone branded a "Witch" at the time was mistreated and sometimes even hanged.

The "Witches" were shunned and feared, and their existence was a source of great tension in the kingdom. The people of Kaladan viewed them as an abomination and a threat to their way of life.

Despite the mistreatment of the "Witches," the king of Kaladan, Leon Damian III, turned a blind eye to the unjust treatment and killing of these individuals. He was more concerned with maintaining the peace and stability of the kingdom, and the "Witches" were seen as a potential threat to that peace.

Thus, the kingdom of Kaladan was a place of great wealth and prosperity, but it was also a place of deep-seated fear and tension. The "Witches" were a constant reminder of the fragility of peace and the potential for conflict in a world where power was coveted above all else.

King Leon had hoped that eventually the people would rid their kingdom of them without his intervention. This had also Helped him keep the peace with the people, But these acts gave birth to an uprising from the "Witches" they feared so much that would change the world as they know it forever.

It was on a warm summer's evening that the witches' plan came to fruition. In the outskirts of the kingdom, an abandoned temple lay in the middle of a grassy plain field. As the moon slowly turned red, the sound of chanting could be heard emanating from the temple. Inside, a dozen witches, their faces shrouded in black cloaks, stood before an altar, reciting a strange language in unison. These were the "followers," the most devoted and loyal of Ashra's disciples.

Ashra, the head witch, stood at the forefront of the group. Her body was adorned with little more than strips of cloth, leaving her bosom bare. Her eyes were crystal white and devoid of pupils, and the mere sight of her struck fear into the hearts of even the bravest souls. She raised her fist to silence the chanting and spoke with a commanding voice.

"For too long, our kin, your fathers, mothers, siblings, mine, have been used, accused, and hanged by this sorry excuse of a race, humans!" Ashra declared. "We are stronger, smarter, and better than they are. It should be us on the thrones, ruling over them, and not the other way around."

The people cheered in agreement, and as they did, a group of followers marched in, dragging a line of one hundred captives with them. Men, women, and children were all bound in chains around their necks, hands, and feet. These were humans, taken from a small village in the dead of night.

Ashra knelt down and spoke to the captives, her voice low and dangerous. "Know that your lives will not be wasted. Rather than squandering them plowing fields and fighting battles for your fat king, you will serve a higher purpose and usher in a new age. Consider yourselves privileged."

The captives knew of their impending doom, and some broke down in tears. Ashra gave them a look of disgust before returning to the altar. As the chanting resumed, she began to summon a dark energy, and the atmosphere shifted. The winds howled fiercely, and the very foundations of the temple shook as dark clouds gathered above. It was clear that this night would change the world forever.

The air was charged with a palpable darkness as Ashra stood before the captives, her eyes fixed on the crystal ball that would soon be formed. She raised her hands, and dark energy flowed from her fingertips like a sinister stream. The energy struck the captives, sapping their life force and leaving nothing but bones in its wake. It was a ghastly sight to behold, but Ashra remained resolute, her mind fixed on her goal.

For this ritual, she had sacrificed countless people. It was a cruel and twisted act, but the promise of the crystal ball was too tempting to ignore. As the life force of the captives coalesced, the crystal began to form. It glimmered with a malevolent light, a testament to the power of the dark energy that had created it.

But the crystal was not enough for Ashra. She knew that her ambitions were greater than just Kaladan, and as she poured more magical energy into the crystal, a crack began to form in the sky above. It was wider than anything anyone had ever seen, and it stretched far beyond the borders of the kingdom.

The followers watched in awe as the crack widened, revealing a blood-red darkness that seemed to pulse with malevolent energy. As they looked up, they saw pairs of monstrous eyes staring back at them. The eyes shone with a bloodlust so intense that it sent shivers down the spines of even the most powerful witches.

Just as the monsters began to drop onto the earth's surface, a lightning strike erupted in the center of the temple, temporarily sealing the crack. The lightning was so bright and intense that it caused many in the crowd to fall to the ground, while others froze in fear.

As the dust settled, a man emerged from the lightning strike. He was bald-headed, with thick, white, braided long beards and a mustache, and a slender build. His cloth billowed in the breeze as he ran his palm through his beard and let out a thunderous shout: "Ashra!"

The man's arrival marked a turning point in the battle for the fate of the world, and the witches knew that they were in for a fight like none they had ever seen before.

Ashra smirks as she speaks to him, her lips curling up in a self-satisfied grin. She looks at Baba with an air of superiority, clearly not surprised by his appearance.

"Baba, what took you so long? Your age finally catching up to you?" she taunts, her tone dripping with disdain.

The bald headed man, Baba, doesn't appear happy or amused. He looks down at the ground and notices bones of the deceased captives at her feet. His face is grim as he takes in the gruesome sight. He closes his eyes, perhaps feeling guilty for not coming sooner to help the people or to save Ashra from carrying out her plan.

Baba says in a solemn yet indignant manner, his voice heavy with the weight of his disappointment. "There's no turning back now Ashra, you must pay for this."

"Oh please," Ashra scoffs, rolling her eyes and kicking some of the bones away from her feet in anger. "Their lives meant nothing. Would you rather stand with these evil, selfish people against your own kind?!"

Baba responds, still unconsciously attempting to convince her to see sense. "My child, this is not the answer. History is not kind to those who rule…"

Ashra sighs in frustration and cuts in, her tone laced with impatience. "Yes, yes, you've told me a thousand times already, but you know history has never seen power like this though."

As they continue to argue, a sudden commotion interrupts them. A large monster about nine feet tall, with long, black claws and bloody fangs, emerges from a crack in the ground. It had the face of an enraged wolf and the body of a Minotaur. The creature squeezes out from the seal of the crack, and the crowd parts to allow the creature to land in the center of the temple.

The creature turns to Ashra and kneels as she holds the crystal in her hand. Ashra couldn't help but laugh maniacally in relief that her plans had worked out. Baba takes a fighting stance with his staff as she turns her back on him and says, "Last chance, old man." She smiles and turns away from him as she continues to work on opening back the crack.

Baba's silence was sufficient answer for the monster; it did not need any further instructions to know what to do; it charged quickly and fiercely at Baba, stabbing him with its sharp claws, or so it believed; the body of Baba slowly crumbled to dust, revealing that it was a decoy created by the old man.

The real Baba emerges from behind the decoy, his eyes glowing white as he utters the words "Icy howl," opening his mouth wide to release a breath that was extremely cold. It freezes the entire atmosphere stone cold, and the temple looks like it is in the arctic. His breath freezes the monster as well as everyone else in the temple except Ashra, but half of her body is frozen, along with the hand holding the crystal.

She looks around in shock at the bodies of people she had come to think of as brothers and sisters who supported her and placed their lives in her hands to lead them, now dead and turned into glassy ice statues. When Ashra sees this, she screams in agony and yells at Baba in a trembling voice, "You monster!"

Baba gazes at her indifferently as he raises his staff and stomps the ground. "It didn't have to be this way, Ashra. Now it will take everything to undo the harm you have caused."

Ashra's lips curled into a menacing grin as she let out a throaty chuckle, her eyes ablaze with fury. With a fierce determination that burned deep within her, she dared Baba to end her life then and there, as if death were a mere triviality.

Her voice quivered with emotion as she spoke, her words dripping with the venom of a thousand vengeful serpents. "Kill me, Baba. End this charade of a life, because I swear to you, I will never stop. Never! Not until every last one of these wretched humans pay for what they've done to us. To me!"

As she uttered those last words, her eyes flashed an intense shade of red, like burning coals that could ignite everything in their path. Her fists clenched at her sides, her entire body shaking with rage.

Baba, on the other hand, remained stoic and indifferent, a silent observer to the turmoil brewing within Ashra. With a slow and deliberate movement, he raised his staff, the tip glinting in the harsh light of the sun. And with a thunderous stomp of his foot, he sent a shock wave through the earth

The air in the temple was tense, heavy with the uncertainty of what was to come. The fate of Ashra hung in the balance, her life or death dependent on the whims of Baba, the powerful sorcerer who stood before her. His eyes were fixed on the entrance to the temple, where the monsters lurked in the shadows, their hungry eyes gleaming with a malevolent light.

Baba's mind was consumed with thoughts of the inevitability of change. The world around them was shifting, and he knew that they could either rise to the challenge or be destroyed by it. The words echoed in his mind as he surveyed the creatures that had made it through the forest, their powerful bodies rippling with energy.

In the days following the "Red Night," the people of Kaladan had seen the dark side of the power that the witches possessed. Fear had turned to hate, and the kingdom had erupted in revolts against King Leon III. The people had called him a weak king, blaming him for his failure to cull the witches from the kingdom. His worst fears had been realized, and he was faced with a terrible quandary.

Baba appeared in the king's court like a bolt of lightning, with the head of the monster he had slain in his hand. The guards rushed in at the sound of thunder, but Baba's dramatic entrance was deliberate. He needed to show his power, to make the king and his council take him seriously.

In a thunderous voice, he made his proposition. The witches would serve the kingdom, using their powers to hunt down the monsters in exchange for nobility and a place away from the kingdom. At first, the council protested, but they soon realized that they were helpless against the creatures that had dismantled their armies. The king had no choice but to agree to Baba's plan.

Baba had four well-trained students who he divided to each cardinal point of the kingdom. They were given the title of "Pillar," and their job was to quell rebellion and keep the kingdom safe. Each pillar was allowed only 50 witches under their watch, and Baba remained in the palace to protect the king.

The Pillars proved effective in fighting against the otherworldly beasts, and Kaladan was returned to peace for two decades. The people began to refer to them as "Mages" instead of "Witches," and a new age of peace seemed to have begun. But as Baba had warned, evil did not sleep, nor did it tire. It waited, biding its time until the next opportunity to strike.