A century ago, the gates of Hell shattered—and the world has never been the same.
Demonic power flooded the land. Celestial hosts rose to meet it. Magic awakened, empires collapsed, and monsters were no longer just stories. Though the Divine War ended long ago, its remnants still stain the earth.
But this story is not about any war.
This is the story of two brothers, cast into legend by the fate that consumed their world.
The village of Endora lay nestled in a valley of trees and quiet streams. Small. Unremarkable. It was the kind of place forgotten by maps and spared by time.
For Raiken, it was home.
Home not because it was perfect, but because it was the only place he'd known where the world felt still.
He wasn't the special one—like his older brother, Kael.
Raiken was the middle son. Too old to be coddled, too young to be trusted with the truth.
He remembered almost nothing about their father—just a shadow of a stormy night, and the silence that followed. Their mother never spoke of him, and Kael only offered deflections and tight-lipped glances. Whatever the man had been, only Kael and their mother knew.
Still, Raiken tried to hold the family together in his own way. He hunted when the winters were cruel. He fetched herbs when their mother's cough grew worse. He patched their roof after every storm and tried not to resent the weight on his back.
He never asked for more.
He never expected to matter.
But that night, everything changed.
He sat near the hearth, sharpening an old blade. Sparks flickered with each drag across the stone. His little brother, Ren, sat cross-legged by the window, staring out at the silver-lit trees. The warmth of the fire danced across their faces, shadows flickering on the walls of their wooden cottage.
"You alright?" Raiken asked.
Ren didn't turn. His voice was low, almost distant."I saw something in my sleep last night. It didn't feel like a dream."
Raiken paused mid-stroke, the blade still against the whetstone."What do you mean?"
"There was something… I don't know. Just a feeling. Like something terrible is going to happen soon."
Raiken leaned back, forcing a grin."You've been reading too many of Kael's stories."
"I'm serious," Ren muttered.
Raiken sighed."Look around. It's safe here, Ren. Nothing ever happens in Endora."
That was the moment it began.
The explosion came from the north ridge. A thunderclap of fire and wind shattered the stillness. The sky lit red. Distant screaming pierced the air.
Raiken shot to his feet."Ma!"
Behind a curtain, their mother stirred weakly in bed. Her breathing was shallow but steady.
The door burst open.
Kael stood in the doorway, sword drawn, smoke curling behind him. His face was smeared with blood, and his voice was urgent.
"They've come. I don't know how."
Raiken stared."What—who—"
"No time. Take Ren. Follow the river trail. Don't stop. Don't look back."
Raiken hesitated.
Kael grabbed his shoulders, eyes burning."You have to protect him. Do you understand?"
Raiken's throat tightened."But—"
"Promise me, Raiken."
"…I promise."
Their mother opened her eyes just once more.
"Live," she whispered.
Kael turned and vanished into the smoke.
They ran.
Smoke swallowed the trees. Screams echoed through the forest. Figures pursued them—twisted silhouettes, once human, now stripped of sanity. Their skin glowed faintly, like embers beneath the flesh. Their feet were bare. Their eyes were coal-red.
They didn't speak.
They hunted.
Raiken led a group of survivors through the trees. Ren clung to his side. A girl—barely older than Ren—held Raiken's hand tightly, too afraid to cry. Their steps were desperate, stumbling, the branches clawing at them like desperate hands.
One by one, the others fell.
The creatures caught them, tore them down in silence.
At the river clearing, Raiken stopped. He turned.
The things were still chasing them—but something was wrong.
Someone else was waiting ahead.
Not like the others. Still human in shape. His skin wasn't glowing, but his eyes were strange—sharp, intelligent. Cruel.
He wore traveler's robes and stood barefoot in the shallow river, watching them.
"You ran far," the man said softly. "But this is where your path ends."
Raiken pushed Ren behind him. The girl clung to his arm.
"We don't want trouble—"
The man smiled faintly."But you've already found it."
Then he moved.
The girl screamed as he struck. Her body collapsed in Raiken's arms, her blood staining his hands. Her eyes were still wide with fear.
Raiken couldn't breathe."No—"
"You should be honored," the man whispered. "You'll be the last ones to die tonight."
Raiken stepped forward, shielding Ren with his own body. The dagger shook in his hand.
"Run," he whispered. "Ren. Run."
Ren didn't move.
Raiken stood tall. Bruised. Bleeding. And ready.
The man raised his arm.
And the world flared white.
A blazing arc of golden flame split the dark. The enemy froze—then fell without a sound.
The air shimmered.
From the tree line stepped a figure cloaked in crimson and black. His kimono shimmered like woven fire. A katana, glowing faintly with light, hung in his hand—unsheathed, but not bloodied.
His hair was long and dark, his face hidden by the night. His steps made no sound. His presence silenced the air.
One by one, the other creatures burst from the trees—chasing—but the man didn't flinch.
He moved once.
By the time his blade returned to his side, nothing remained but ashes.
Raiken dropped to his knees, gasping. His eyes blurred.
The man stepped closer.
He looked down at them—at Raiken, barely conscious, and at Ren, unmoving.
Then, in a voice calm as dusk:"What do you fear more—death, or what lies beyond it?"
Raiken's vision darkened.
The man's face was still a blur.
The flames behind him flickered like a dying star.
Raiken collapsed.
He woke to the soft creak of wheels.
His body ached. His side was bandaged. Ren was asleep beside him, his small fingers curled around Raiken's sleeve.
Across from them sat strangers—other survivors. Young. Pale. Silent. Their faces bore the same hollow dread he felt clawing at his chest.
The girl was gone.
Outside, trees passed by in shadow and mist. Dawn crept over the hills.
And there it stood: the towering walls of Solgrath—ancient, immense. Its spires stabbed into the heavens like the fingers of forgotten gods. Even from afar, its wealth gleamed like polished gold beneath the rising sun.
Raiken said nothing. His arms trembled. But Ren was alive.
And the promise was still burning in his chest.
No matter what the world took from them—he would protect him.
Even if it killed him.
He clenched his fist and stared forward as the gates of the capital loomed closer.
This wasn't the end.
It was only the beginning.