Prologue partie 1 : Un monde bâtis sur des ruines.

"Mommy Mommy, can you tell me one last time?!"

Hearing this, a middle-aged woman sighed. Her long brown hair reflected a light golden hue from the illumination given by the small candle she held in her hand.

She dusted off her archaic dark-green dress, where a large number of seams could be seen. She then repositioned herself on the chair where she had been sitting to flash a smile filled with tenderness at the young seven-to-eight-year-old, before saying.

"I'd love to Salvatoris, but this is the last time and then you're going to bed.

"Yes, I promise!"

Replied the young boy eagerly.

"All right, but if you fall asleep in the middle I'm leaving."

The young boy nodded, concealing his enthusiasm, letting his hair swing between blond and brown in disarray. He then stared at his mother with his big green eyes, where slight dark circles were visible, as he clutched his thin blankets from the inside in anticipation.

"Once upon a time, there was the story of a strong and courageous young boy named Reiner, who, exhausted and driven by a great sense of justice, decided to oppose the tyrannical reign of the great demons, and their evil king in order to save his people and all those under their sway."

On hearing this, the young boy clutched his blankets slightly tighter as he watched his mother intently.

"Demons were terrified of the potential of humanity, elves, dwarves, and all the other more or less noble races they deemed inferior. They treated them like toys, worth little more than slaves, useful only for labor or as meals. The young boy was a slave, but the gods had blessed him at birth with great magical power. A power even greater than that of the great sage Ian or the great swordsman Artorias. But being young and ignorant, he lived a life of-"

The young boy then interrupted his mother, letting her sigh slightly, as if she'd heard the question he was about to ask dozens of times before.

"But Mom, if the gods give humans magic at birth, why limit their potential? Why didn't they give hero strength to all humans so they wouldn't suffer? Why can't some people even use magic, or are very weak like Mom, while others are so strong they could destroy a kingdom if they were unleashed? And why are summoned heroes always too strong?!"

After listening to Salvatoris' question, the mother rose from her chair and headed for the window. She let her candle light only half her face as she gazed up at the starry sky for a few seconds. Then she turned back to her son, a sincere joy at pleasing him written all over her face.

"That's because the gods don't master the power they give to each human. Each of them specializes in a particular magic, and leans over a child at birth to infuse it with a part of their strength. This may be very great, as in the case of heroes, great sages and swordsmen, or very weak, as in the case of Mom. But even if your relatives are weak, that doesn't mean you can't obtain immense power. They love all humans and have given them the strength to fight and live on their own. Even the poorest are the equals of kings and the richest when it comes to the power they obtain. And then, regarding the heroes who are summoned, only the strongest come to our world."

Replied the mother in a gentle, soothing tone of voice, leaving the child once again curious and attentive to the rest of the story.

"He lived the life of a slave, his parents having died of exhaustion, leaving him alone with no one to rely on. This young boy swore to become strong, the strongest, and to save all humans.

But as he trained in secret, the demons saw him. Frightened by a power greater than their own, they decided to kill him to avoid the threat he might represent.

It was when the gods noticed the boy that they decided to act, tired of the demons' tyranny over their people and faithful believers. They sent an army led by the greatest gods themselves to help the humans.

The mere presence of the gods terrified the demons, who fought them relentlessly. Because of this, they paid no attention to the young boy who had just killed several of their fellow demons, Reiner.

Seeing that they were losing, the demons chose to flee in order to create or find a solution to defeat the sacred army. It was then that the gods recognized the young boy, and he was blessed by the God of the Dead.

With them, he led a sacred army to eliminate the demon king and save all humans. He took part in countless battles against their forces, defeating terrifying monsters, saving thousands of lives in seemingly hopeless battles, and single-handedly turning the tide of history!"

"He's too strong..."

The young boy whispered discreetly, his eyes sparkling with admiration. The mother pretended not to hear, continuing her story.

"He always emerged triumphant from his battles, his army growing ever larger as it mixed all races, both gods and the dead he brought back from the afterlife.

However, despite all his efforts, the demon king, on the verge of defeat, finally dealt the hero a blow. Even with the support of the gods who had recognized him, Reiner died... This left the Demon King free to flee and hide behind his just-completed creation: Renièr, a copy of the sacred hero.

Humans and gods protected Reiner's body, taking it to a temple in the hope of saving it. But Renièr was powerful, made in the image of the hero who had ravaged the ranks of the demonic army, demonstrating complete supremacy on the battlefield. And although the hero's death had prompted countless brave men to rise up to fight and continue his work, the great demon managed to greatly reduce the army of the gods, even killing many with his own hands."

The voice of the woman counting this story suddenly became more energetic, as if she wished to breathe her soul into it, causing her son, totally absorbed in her words, to flinch.

"But it was at this moment that the hero awoke in the temple to which the gods and humans had led him. There, he clashed with Renièr in a violent battle that sealed the fate of humanity, and that of the demon king. In the end, Reiner emerged triumphant, brandishing the demon king's decapitated head. He had avenged all the gods with his own hands, as well as his fallen comrades. Unfortunately, the curse inflicted by the demon king once again sent him into eternal sleep. He was then placed in the temple where he had once awakened when humanity needed him most.

As the gods disappeared one by one, the most evil god, the one who had blessed the hero and ruled the dead, whispered in humanity's ears.

"The hero is not dead, he lives and will live forever, prisoner of this endless sleep... But one day, on the very day when humanity is in peril and needs him, he will awaken and rekindle hope when all seems lost."

The demons were spared by the infinite mercy of the gods, but were condemned to exile on what was once the Dead Continent.

Now, despite countless eons, the gods continue to watch over us every day, every passing sky. The magic we carry within us, weak as it is, is proof of this. It's also thanks to them that our greatest mages can summon heroes from other worlds to help us defeat the new demon king, who once again threatens humanity with his demonic armies.

It's only thanks to the sacrifice of our very first hero, Reiner, that we can continue to live our lives without fear and dread. And thanks to the new heroes who have helped us since the first invocations."

Salvatoris continued to listen attentively, wide-eyed, as her mother told her the end of Reiner's story. But once it was over, his mother placed a kiss on his forehead with a smile, while patting him with her index finger.

"You've also been blessed by the god of the dead, so if you ever want to become like the heroes, or even become a great hero like Reiner, you need to get your strength up and get some sleep, okay?"

The boy nodded in disappointment as his mother walked away, blowing out the candle that lit the room. The room was plunged into darkness, lit only by the soft moonlight that lulled Salvatoris as he began to drift off to sleep, tiredness slowly overtaking him.

* * *

Time passed again and again, and so Reiner's passionate young boy grew up with a single goal: to reanimate the legendary hero. Although years had passed, his dream remained intact, driving him day after day to tirelessly practice magic, even devoting all his days to it.

As the day began to dawn and the roosters began their morning crow, the windows of the few modest houses built of wood and stone opened, revealing their interiors illuminated by the dim, soft light of candles. The door of a house slightly stained with blood opened, letting out not a child, but a young adult with hair oscillating between blond and brown. He had a few wounds on his muscular body, and was wearing a long, black, stitched-up tunic. A middle-aged woman followed him. She had long brown hair that concealed the incipient signs of age on her face. She quickly began to speak in a trembling voice.

"Salvatoris, I know you really want to continue practicing magic, but... please, don't make the same mistakes your father did.... You don't need to go out every day. You know that necromancy is frowned upon... Why persist when you were almost killed by your own creations? No one would have rescued you if you'd needed it!"

"It's all right, Mum, I was unlucky yesterday and careless with my puppets, but I've learned my lesson. I'm going to perfect my mastery of the second level first before tackling the third, it was premature..."

Replied the young man in a reassuring voice, scratching the back of his head awkwardly, prompting his mother to retort, even more worried as she approached him.

"It's not a question of level, there's never been a level in magic, so stop telling yourself anything is possible with practice! I know you can do it, I know you can resurrect a body with its body memory and that's already impressive at your age. To do more than that is impossible, even for the most experienced necromancer. So to attempt it at your age was unconscionable!"

The woman began to sob slightly as she clutched her son's sleeve, before adding.

"Reanimating a body with its true memory is far too dangerous...Stop now, take a break..."

The young man cut his mother off, grabbing her hands to reassure her.

"I know you're worried about me Mom... But if I'm ever going to reach my goal, I'm going to have to do a lot more than this. I have to push myself again and again."

"Stop obsessing! Reiner died years ago! Even the most powerful necromancer in our land couldn't make his body react! Only the god of the dead could do that. Stay here...You don't need to risk your life trying to control these creatures or create new ones, it's so dangerous..."

The woman tried to hold back her dripping sobs, her voice trembling.

"I don't want to lose you too..."

"Mom...no, Hildaya... Don't worry, I promise I'll come back. I'm sorry I scared you so much yesterday, but I promise I'm getting better, and I'll be back soon."

Hildaya then tried again to hold back her sobs and loosened her grip slightly on her son's sleeve. Her gaze was trembling, and tears continued to bead at the corners of her eyes, but she tried to speak more calmly.

"Don't take any more rash risks. Your life is more precious than anything else, you don't need to do so much, take your time. If you were to die, you'd never be able to realize the dream you've worked so hard for. You've already mastered your magic, and without a teacher or a grimoire. So, just like when you were a kid, take your time and be careful, please... Don't do anything foolish...and...watch out for rumors of disappearances."

"I promise, but in return promise me you won't overwork yourself again, okay?"

Saying this the young man began to turn back towards the horizon, his heart heavy. With his head held high, he endured the usual scorn-filled stares from the other inhabitants of the small village, displaying his determination as he walked with a resolute step along a small dirt road. He then turned off onto a little path in the middle of nowhere that he was used to walking, leading to a vast plain with no resources or interest, apart from a small cemetery long since destroyed and forgotten.

Almost every grave looked as if it had been dug by human hands. However, instead of stopping there as usual, he continued on his way to one of the most remote tombs, still intact. Once in front of it, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath before letting a black, indistinct flow enter. The flow crossed the earth and reached the corpse buried in it, which almost immediately raised a skeletal hand from the ground, before struggling to pull itself out. The corpse was completely decomposed. A few scraps of shredded cloth covered his old bones. However, Salvatoris tapped his foot on the ground and whispered.

"Another failure... again and again... I only have his muscle memory..."

He then ignored the skeleton, which began to follow him across the narrow path, as he left the cemetery, and went deeper into the pristine green plains. No presence could be seen beyond the tall grasses, and only slight mounds of earth here and there denoted the flat, monotonous landscape.

Salvatoris paused for a moment, releasing a faint black aura that ran in all directions like wires. Although in some places, his threads appeared thicker than others, leaving him heading for one of the closest, weakest threads.

However, just as his guard was down, three small creatures barely larger than a grown human foot took him by surprise. They emerged from the grass, spreading out their ant-like bodies, each with five legs on either side of its body, ending in a sharp sting. Their insect-like heads featured mouths filled with a multitude of sharp, blade-like teeth, topped by razor-sharp mandibles, evoking an intimidating, disquieting aura. Their bodies seemed to move with disconcerting agility, while their movements were precise and synchronized.

Salvatoris belatedly became aware of the attack and barely had time to flinch before being thrown to the ground by his skeleton. However, he was almost immediately torn to pieces by the few creatures. They tore off the bones held together by tiny, almost invisible black wires with ease, then moved into small holes hidden by the tall grass, holding their clutches between their mandibles. It was at this point that Salvatoris jumped to his feet in horror. He instinctively began to run, without a clear direction in mind. He left the crawling skeleton behind, trying to follow without even turning around. Unfortunately, the skeleton was shredded mercilessly by the multitude of other creatures, emerging in ever-increasing numbers from the surrounding mounds of earth, or holes in the ground, as Salvatoris fled screaming.

"Fucking mounds this close to the village have been infested! I've got to report this to the village chief or we'll end up as a routny's nest after getting eaten! Ah, why the hell did it have to be me!"

As he ran with all his might, fighting against fear, he suddenly slowed down, and once again let black threads emerge from his body. He moved towards the weakest and closest of them, and began to dig the mound of earth in front of which he had stopped with his hands. Three black wires entered the hole.

As on the previous occasion, a putrid corpse emerged. Its muscles were almost entirely decomposed, eaten away by worms, but still concealed by a few iron plates, as well as a coat of mail torn to shreds. The corpse struggled to his feet, clutching a rusty two-handed sword. But he was not alone. Two other corpses followed him. The first was similar to him, though smaller and adorned with a rusty, dented and even perforated shield, as well as a broken one-handed sword. The last corpse, on the other hand, looked pathetic. He wore a shredded robe over a deplorable coat of mail, and held in his hands a simple staff made from the horns of a beast.

Once the three undead had emerged from their mound, the two warriors crushed a routny running towards Salvatoris with the weight of their swords and shields, cracking noticeably with every blow. Salvatoris quickly lifted the routny's lifeless body to defend himself in the future. With a quick wave of his hand, he ordered the presumed former mage to carry the routny's reanimated corpse, and to run as fast as he could through the tall grass towards the next nearest tumulus, totally losing his way with the sole idea of reanimating as many bodies as possible in order to get out of the seemingly peaceful area alive. However, during his frantic run, Salvatoris stumbled and fell to the ground, only to get up again without delay and head for the nearest tumulus. He was driven only by fear, and ignored the fact that the black threads running in that direction were bigger and thicker than the others. He then dug into the mound with his new soldiers as quickly as possible.

But just as he was about to reanimate a corpse close to him, he immediately stopped as he observed a strangely well-preserved white garment seemingly woven from an extremely resistant white fiber. Seeing this, Salvatoris appeared surprised, and tried to dig a little deeper. However, once the upper part of the corpse was properly revealed, he could see the corpse holding, even after death, the remains of a rusty shovel that still seemed surprisingly resistant. In addition, he was wearing a jacket that looked strangely futuristic compared to the simple medieval garb of Salvatoris and its inhabitants. Such garments simply seemed impossible to make, even with magic, by human beings who lived before Salvatoris, or even by the greatest craftsman of the present day.

The jacket was slightly torn in places, but it was almost perfectly preserved, despite being around a skeleton at least several millennia old, this seeing through the countless black threads unconsciously emerging from Salvatoris's body to wrap around the corpse. He then whispered to his puppets in a tone of voice mixing fear, excitement and concern.

"Stop, this isn't a tumulus here, it's much more than that, it's dangerous..."

The moment these words passed his lips, all the undead stopped digging. However, the sound of cracking sounded where one of the warriors had leaned to get up. The ground cracked, dropping the warrior, and a small gap was illuminated by a fluorescent green light from where his arm had just sunk.