A Major Clash of Clans

Author's Note: You can check out the world map first

(https://crancrse-the-heavens-vengeance.fandom.com/wiki/An_Important_Location)

"Crancrse—a word that echoes across the world, symbolizing the cursed beings born from blood. Its name comes from a fusion of Coranese, meaning "the people of Cora," and Curse, taken from the local tongue of one of the world's great kingdoms, Verdonia, meaning "curse." Over time, the two words merged, shifted, and eventually became one: Crancrse."

"The emergence of the Crancrse is inseparable from the series of great events that shook the world after the fall of the Akatara Dynasty. The collapse of that once-mighty dynasty left a question hanging in the air—unanswered, yet growing more urgent with each passing day: Who will rise to lead this world?"

"Will it be humanity, with its advanced civilization? Or will it be the Ajina Dala, an undeniable force, the strongest race to ever walk the earth?"

"At first, the Ajina Dala never intended to become the new rulers of the world. They had no interest in power, no desire to fight for a throne. But circumstances forced them into a role they had never imagined—one that would slowly reshape their destiny forever."

"The Ajina Dala lived on the borders between the Middle World and the Outer World, in the far west of a land long forgotten. Technically, they were still part of the Middle World, yet the history known to humans and Akatara seemed entirely disconnected from them. Tales of the great flood that once ravaged the earth? Nowhere to be found in their records. Names like Akatara, Cora, or even humans? Completely foreign to their ears."

"Before their encounter with mankind, the Ajina Dala were little more than a civilization just emerging from a primitive era. They were a young people, much like humanity when it was first awakened by the two cosmic beings. But there was one striking difference: they already had language, they could communicate with one another—and, most importantly, they were not as savage as the humans who, according to ancient stories, had once roamed the earth like wild beasts."

"This is what makes the history of the world so perplexing. If such a great disaster had truly come close to wiping out all life, why did the Ajina Dala have no memory of it? They were certain they had lived for over a thousand years, yet not a single one of them recalled such an event."

"So, does this mean that only Akatara and Cora truly knew the secrets of the world? If that were the case, then that truth had been buried along with them—scattered among the dust of the stars, leaving history shrouded in uncertainty, suspended without an answer."

"From humanity’s perspective, Akatara and Cora were not just rulers; they were gods. But to the Ajina Dala, the only god they worshipped was the earth itself. In the stories passed down through their generations, humans did not portray Akatara and Cora as divine saviors, but as tyrants who oppressed them."

"Desperate, humans twisted history, bending reality to earn the sympathy of the Ajina Dala."

"Akatara and Cora are not gods—they are invaders of this planet. We, humans, were nothing more than slaves bound by their rule. And you, our distant kin, fellow children of this earth… will you lend us your strength to drive these oppressors away?"

"That was how humans introduced Akatara and Cora to the Ajina Dala. Words laced with suffering—yet, in the end, they were nothing more than deception wrapped in sorrow. And who wouldn’t be swayed, especially when humans proved themselves by helping advance their civilization?"

"The Ajina Dala agreed to aid humanity in their war against the Akatara Dynasty. But they had one absolute condition—Akatara had to be annihilated completely, leaving not a single descendant behind. Only then, they believed, could the conflict truly end."

"But this was the moment when humanity’s lies were finally exposed. They had twisted history with such cunning precision, distorting the truth for their own gain."

"According to Akatara’s records, humans had committed unspeakable atrocities against Akatara’s women. They exploited them, using their lineage to pass Akatara’s power into human blood. But in the human version of history, this event was glorified as a great sacrifice. They claimed that one of Akatara’s clans had willingly surrendered themselves in order to overthrow the tyranny of the Akatara Dynasty."

"Yet in Ajina Dala’s history, the truth was something else entirely. When humans fled from the Akatara, they possessed no special abilities. They were nothing but weak, powerless beings before the Ajina Dala—so fragile that there was no reason for suspicion. And it was precisely because of their weakness that the Ajina Dala chose to help them, seeing humans as victims in need of salvation."

"But the history written in the years that followed revealed humanity’s betrayal. They justified their deception by claiming that their hidden power was never meant to deceive the Ajina Dala, but rather to prevent the birth of a new enemy. Yet the stories passed down by the Ajina Dala spoke of something different. It was their history that unmasked the full extent of humanity’s treachery—written after the Ajina Dala had once again reduced humans to slavery."

"As I have said—humans were, in the end, truly brought back to servitude under the Ajina Dala."

"This history, like all stories before and after it, is merely a reflection of the victors’ perspective. It is rewritten, reshaped, and adjusted every time a new power emerges victorious. The truth? It is nothing more than an illusion, forever dictated by the hand that holds the pen."

"Humanity had achieved what they once deemed impossible. They had conquered the Akatara Dynasty—the people they feared above all else, rulers who had always seemed untouchable. But victory did not bring peace, nor did it offer a sense of security. Because once one enemy had fallen, a new fear was born."

"Now, only one other force remained to be feared. And when fear takes root, so too does the plan to eliminate its source."

"Before the Ajina Dala ever turned their weapons against humanity, they saw everything humans did as natural. After all, they themselves were far removed from the concept of normalcy as understood by other civilizations."

"Do you know what the freak cultures of their people were like in ancient times?"

"The Ajina Dala did not adhere to the idea of a singular marriage bound by sacred vows. They could engage in relationships and reproduce with multiple partners without it being considered strange. Incest? Rape? Pedophilia? None of these were seen as violations of their norms. No one regarded them as perversions, as if they had established an unspoken rule that nothing was to be condemned as long as it was based on mutual consent or lack of objection—free from the moral boundaries upheld by humans."

"When humans first learned of these cultures, they were disturbed, even horrified. Slowly, they began to reform the ways of the Ajina Dala—introducing them to the concepts of limits, consequences, and values that were, by human standards, more civilized."

"Over time, humanity did not just change the way the Ajina Dala lived; they also played a role in the growth of their population. A shift that gradually shook the foundations of Ajina Dala society, disrupting the balance that had endured for centuries."

"It was then that the Ajina Dala, having come to understand the boundary between what is normal and what is depraved, began to sense something was wrong. The fact that humans had forcibly defiled dozens of Akatara women in underground prisons shook them to the core. For so long, human words had sounded wise, full of morality—yet their actions betrayed every teaching they had preached."

"And then, there was the broken promise. The vow to exterminate the Akatara had been nothing but deception. Instead of ending their bloodline, humans sought to claim Akatara’s power for themselves. This was the first crack in the alliance between humanity and the Ajina Dala."

"To justify their actions, humans pointed to the mysterious disappearance of the Indigo Clan and the ancient Akatara lineage. They argued that inheriting Akatara’s power was the only way to protect themselves from a sudden return of their lost enemies. But to the Ajina Dala, this was an unforgivable insult. A chilling thought began to take root—the possibility that, one day, humans would turn this stolen power against them."

"At first, the Ajina Dala held back. They still saw humans as allies and chose to stay out of further conflict. More importantly, only the power of the Magenta Clan could be passed down. They believed that as long as the animals and plants of the earth remained loyal to them, humanity’s elemental strength would never be a true threat."

"But the deeper they gazed into humanity’s corruption, the more disgusted they became. They made their choice—to leave. The Ajina Dala withdrew from the human world, abandoning all ambitions, all promises, and all wars that no longer belonged to them."

"They returned to their distant lands, carrying a single truth in their hearts—that humanity would eventually destroy itself."

"Human nature finally revealed itself, even in their final farewell. As a people still incapable of fully protecting themselves, humans seemed eager for the Ajina Dala’s departure. There were no signs of sorrow, no reluctance. Only cold, wary eyes—watching, calculating—as if the Ajina Dala were no longer allies, but future enemies that would one day need to be eliminated."

"The farewell celebration, which should have been a symbol of brotherhood, turned into something far darker. The cheers that echoed through the air were not just parting words—they were a hidden celebration, a quiet festivity over the disappearance of the last remaining threat."

"The Ajina Dala remained in the capitals of the human kingdoms for only five years after the fall of the Akatara Dynasty. Then, they chose to return home—to the far western reaches of the Arcanis continent, where their lands bordered directly with the Outer World. They no longer wished to interfere in human affairs."

"But for two and a half centuries after their departure—specifically in the year 1250—terror came knocking. A series of attacks from an unknown enemy struck Ajina Dala settlements. This was not an all-out invasion like the one that had toppled the Akatara Dynasty, but something far more insidious, far more cruel. The attacks came suddenly, without warning, and the casualties kept rising."

"The Ajina Dala’s fury burned brighter. War, they could accept. Enmity, they could understand. But an assault from the shadows—without a face to recognize, without an enemy to challenge—was an insult they could not ignore."

"They had to find the mastermind. And once they did, the world would tremble once more."

"Without hesitation, humans became the prime suspects. Anger and suspicion drove a group of Ajina Dala back into the human world, seeking answers. But they never made it to their destination."

"At the border between the Outer World and the Middle World, they were ambushed. The vast wasteland stretching from south to north became a trap with no escape. The plants that usually served as their allies barely grew in this barren land, and the beasts that often extended their instincts were nowhere to be found. They fought with everything they had—claws slashing through the air, fangs tearing through flesh—but in a battlefield completely under the enemy’s control, their resistance only prolonged their suffering."

"Now, everything was clear."

"The Akatara had never attempted to conquer the Outer World’s border—not out of weakness, but because this land was a graveyard for those who did not understand its brutal nature. Once, this was the escape route humans used to flee from the Akatara. Now, it bore silent witness to the slaughter of the Ajina Dala."

"In the Middle World, six continents stretched across the land, each named after the biome that dominated its vast expanse:"

"The first was Canovia, a sprawling tropical rainforest so dense that barely any sunlight could pierce through its canopy. This continent lay far from here, hidden behind thick mists and endless winding rivers."

"The second was Montavera, a land of towering highlands carved by deep ravines and valleys shrouded in eternal fog. Cold winds howled ceaselessly over its peaks. By the way, this is your homeland."

"Then came Pratoria, a continent south of Montavera—a vast savanna where the wind roamed endlessly, sweeping across rolling grasslands and concealing predators that lay in silent wait."

"The fourth was Arcanis, a merciless desert where sandstorms could bury anything foolish enough to challenge them. There was no mercy for the weak here. And it was on this continent that the Ajina Dala faced their greatest tragedy."

"Then there was Sylvalis, a stretch of cool forests frozen beneath a gray sky. Towering broad-leafed trees stood tall, their branches shielding the rich earth from the harsh northern winds. When winter arrived, a thin layer of snow blanketed the ground. Sylvalis was the most prosperous continent in the world—its lands were fertile, its forests abundant, and its civilizations flourished."

"And lastly, Planis—a vast, dry steppe that seemed to stretch endlessly, a wild land that only accepted those strong enough to survive. But that did not mean history had never been written here."

"Across these lands, history kept moving. Civilizations rose, fell, and were reborn, each carrying its own tales of triumph and betrayal. And as it had happened countless times before, history was once again stained with blood and vengeance that had never truly faded."

"Whenever the Ajina Dala sought to reach the human kingdoms, they were forced to endure an exhausting journey across the vast continent of Arcanis. That barren land did not merely challenge them with sandstorms and searing heat—it tested both their physical and mental endurance. Yet even that grueling journey was nothing compared to the fate that awaited them this time."

"Legend has it that after the massacre at the border, the heads of the fallen Ajina Dala were sent back to their homeland. Not as a gesture of respect, but stuffed into a large vermillion-colored cloth sack. The stench of blood still clung to the fabric, and across its surface, a message was scrawled in ink that was none other than their own blood:"

"This terror will never end as long as our brothers remain imprisoned by mankind."

"It was not just a threat. It was a declaration of war."

"And with that striking vermillion hue, it wasn’t hard to guess who was behind it. Every clue pointed to a name that should have been buried alongside their fallen dynasty—The Orange Akatara Clan."

"Curiously, they weren’t just after the Ajina Dala. At the same time, they also targeted the human royal families, spreading fear from the shadows of power. Their strategy was clear: to pit the Ajina Dala and humans against each other, reigniting a conflict that had never truly been extinguished."

"But why was the Orange Akatara Clan so dangerous, even without the vast armies they once commanded? The answer lay in one thing—because they were the masters of Matter."

"They did not need soldiers to wage war. A single member of their clan could turn the battlefield into a living nightmare. The ground beneath one’s feet could suddenly liquefy into a sinkhole, swallowing bodies whole until only their screams remained. The very air could transform into a poisonous mist, rotting lungs in mere seconds. The swords and spears raised against them? They could melt in an instant, twisting into searing tendrils of molten metal that burned flesh down to the bone."

"Even more terrifying, they could alter the bodies of their enemies themselves. A soldier could feel his skin harden like stone, trapped forever in his own petrified prison. Others would find their flesh softening like wax, melting away until only a pool of blood and tissue remained. There was no safety from them, for they required no weapons—they were the weapons."

"And worst of all, they were driven by an insatiable thirst for vengeance."

"If the Ajina Dala were sent corpses alongside an ultimatum demanding the release of the other Akatara Clans, the humans were given a far more horrific message. The ruling kings of humanity were not simply beheaded—they were hung upon flagpoles, their eyes gouged out and tongues lolling from their mouths, as if still trying to scream even in death."

"Their bodies were returned to their palaces in a state so grotesque that any who laid eyes upon them teetered on the brink of madness. Their corpses were mutilated beyond recognition—genitals severed and stuffed into their own mouths, bellies split open and filled with live serpents that slithered through their decaying intestines. Some were forced to swallow filth until they choked, their faces turning a sickly shade of blue, while others were made to shove their own hands into their anuses until their joints snapped and their bodies convulsed in agony beyond comprehension."

"But the horror did not end there. The kings’ children—the young heirs to their thrones—were not granted the mercy of a swift death. They were left alive, only to endure suffering far worse than death itself. Sent back to the capital crawling on all fours like beasts, their tongues severed so they could no longer speak, their ears flayed so that only the echoes of their own screams filled their minds. Some were cursed with sorcery so vile that they were doomed to feel an insatiable hunger, but every morsel they tried to swallow turned to burning embers, scorching their throats from within."

"The Orange Akatara were not merely the lingering shadows of vengeance haunting humanity—they were horror incarnate in its purest form. They were not a vast army marching in formation, but a pack of hunters who understood the most effective way to spread terror: from the darkness, when their prey was at its weakest."

"They always struck at night, when the world lay shrouded in darkness and human vigilance wavered. Their clothing was entirely black, devoid of even the faintest reflection of light, as if their very bodies were an extension of the shadows. There were no footsteps to betray them, no tracks left behind, as though they were one with the night itself. They did not run like ordinary men, nor did they march like soldiers—they glided across rooftops, slithered up palace walls, and moved along the ground with the deadly grace of a panther hunting in the dark."

"The palace guards never knew when they would come. There were no warnings, no clashes of battle shattering the silence. Only a sudden scream piercing the midnight air, followed by an eerie stillness. And when dawn broke, all that remained were floors stained with blood, bodies reduced to unrecognizable husks, and a fear that rooted itself ever deeper in the hearts of men."

"The Orange Akatara knew that open war would only lead to their defeat. They were not a legion; they were untouchable phantoms. They did not need to conquer castles or claim thrones—all they had to do was ensure that every night, humans lay awake in fear, their sanity slowly eroded by the terror lurking in the dark."

"And that was why they were nearly impossible to capture. Even when a nobleman or a soldier managed to sense their presence, there was only one realization before the cold steel of a blade kissed their throat in silence"

"The Orange Akatara did not simply kill—they ensured that every life they took left behind a trauma that spread like a plague, a fear that seeped into the very bones of those who remained. They sought more than mere vengeance. They wanted to return the horror once inflicted upon their clan—not in the same way, but in a manner far more brutal, more terrifying, more gut-wrenching, until no human could sleep without their presence haunting their nightmares."

"And amidst this terror, the Orange Akatara wove a web of deception around the Ajina Dala. They claimed that all the atrocities committed were the work of a secret alliance between the Ajina Dala and the Orange Akatara, planting a festering hatred between two forces that should have stood united. With both sides separated and lacking direct communication, misunderstandings turned into something far more dangerous. At first, they only sent a handful of envoys to meet in secrecy, but now, both Ajina Dala and the humans had resolved to send massive forces to confront each other."

"In 1275 they met in the city of Thalapetra, a settlement that had risen at the mouth of a great river, one of the rare fertile oases amidst the unforgiving lands of Arcanis. Its soil was rich with silt deposits, allowing vast fields of wheat, dates, and grapes to flourish along its banks. The river that split the city in two was its lifeblood, nourishing the farmlands and sustaining its ever-growing population. In the years to come, Thalapetra would become a thriving hub of trade, its docks perpetually crowded with ships from all corners of the world, carrying spices, gold, and silk—turning the city into the busiest and most prosperous trade center of its time."

"On that day, however, it was not merchants or sailors who filled the land of Thalapetra, but two forces drawn together by vengeance and deception. On one side, 1,000 Ajina Dala stood tall, fully aware that numbers were not merely a game of statistics—they faced a sea of humanity, 100,000 soldiers from three kingdoms of humans. The sky above seemed to hold its breath, while the earth beneath them bore silent witness to the decision that would determine the fate of two peoples blinded by suspicion."

"More than ninety years had passed after Ajina Dala returned to their homeland, and at least three out of five generations of enhanced humans still lived in a state of constant vigilance, awaiting the war they knew would reignite sooner or later."

"The Ajina Dala knew the odds were not in their favor. In the harsh lands of Arcanis, it was impossible for them to dominate a battle the way they could in more fertile lands. They sought a peaceful resolution, even though their demands could easily be seen as an insult to humanity. Both sides understood, deep down, that they were being pitted against each other by the Orange Akatara, yet the freshly rooted distrust made trust nearly impossible to rebuild. The humans offered an alliance—but under one condition: they would lead."

"For the Ajina Dala, this was no issue. However, the price they demanded in return was something the humans struggled to accept—genocide against the captured Akatara. To the Ajina Dala, this was not merely vengeance, but a necessary purge to ensure that a threat like the Orange Clan would never rise again."

"The negotiations quickly turned into another battlefield—not one of swords, but of words, sharp and laced with accusation. The humans rejected the proposal, not out of mercy, but because the Akatara were still useful to them. The Ajina Dala retaliated by exposing their hypocrisy, striking at the moral principles humans claimed to uphold. Consensus seemed impossible."

"In an instant, the debate was no longer about solutions but a clash of pride between two races. The air grew heated, voices rose, and insults became inevitable. The Ajina Dala condemned humans as cowards who cared only for their own interests, weak creatures who won not through courage but sheer numbers. They mocked the illusion of morality humans had built, for beneath it all, they were nothing more than greedy beings who constantly sought to exploit others for their own gain."

"In turn, the humans branded the Ajina Dala as nothing more than wild beasts masquerading as civilized beings. They were not victims, but monsters driven by bloodlust, no different from the Akatara they so despised. How could they claim to be better when the only solution they offered was genocide?"

"The assembly was no longer a place of diplomacy. This was not a negotiation—it was a spectacle of humiliation, where every word was a dagger and every accusation an open wound."

"A discussion meant to bring peace had now become a chasm, deepening the enmity between them."

"Humans could fight among themselves, betray one another, and wage wars for power. But the moment one of them was harmed, all differences vanished. Pain and vengeance bound them together into something greater, something more ruthless, something far more difficult to break."

"Now, there was no human left who stood with the Ajina Dala. Any remaining support had crumbled, buried beneath rage and hatred. The humans had made their decision—this war would no longer be fought on multiple fronts. It would be narrowed down, waged solely between them and the remnants of the Orange Akatara. And the Ajina Dala, who had once sought peace but let their emotions slip, now found themselves trapped in the fury of a human tide."

"Did a great war break out on the spot? Of course. If the Ajina Dala were a weak race, this battle might have been just another forgotten incident in history. But they were not a race easily conquered. And so, on the very ground meant for negotiation, one of the worst wars in the history of the world erupted."

"The human leaders raised their hands—a signal that had been agreed upon long before the assembly even began."

"In mere seconds, from the stone towers and the narrow alleys of the city, thousands of human soldiers emerged. They unsheathed their swords, drew their bows, and prepared to carry out what they believed to be a cleansing. The skies above Thalapetra trembled beneath the thunderous march of tens of thousands, closing in on the Ajina Dala from all directions."

"The sun began its slow ascent over Thalapetra, its blinding light reflecting off the golden sands stretching beyond the city. The Ajina Dala, only a thousand in number, now stood trapped within the lush oasis, facing a sea of armed humans outnumbering them a hundred to one. War cries echoed through the air, shaking the very walls that had once served as the stage for diplomacy."

"Humanity had made its decision: they would annihilate the Ajina Dala here and now."

"But the Ajina Dala had no intention of dying without a fight."

"The Ajina did not merely harness the power of beasts—they became the beasts themselves. In their strongest forms, their bodies fully transformed, whether into a colossal eagle ruling the skies, an elusive insect impossible to catch, or a swift rat slipping through hidden crevices. Their sizes shifted at will, turning each Ajina into an unpredictable weapon on the battlefield."

"As soon as the human army charged, the Ajina sprang into action. Some stormed forward with the force of raging bulls, crashing into their enemies with bone-shattering impact. In the skies, Ajina transformed into giant eagles, slashing through soldiers with razor-sharp talons, tearing them apart and flinging their bodies high into the air before they plummeted to the ground. Others crawled like spiders, scaling the city walls to ambush their foes from above, while some took the form of enormous serpents, coiling around their enemies and crushing them in a death grip."

"Amid the chaos, the Dala did not stand idle. They clutched the seeds they carried, and in an instant, death bloomed from the earth. From aconite seeds, violet flowers erupted, releasing toxic fumes that made soldiers choke and collapse before they could even swing their swords. From giant Nepenthes seeds, carnivorous plants unfurled, their gaping maws snapping shut around helpless humans, dissolving them in boiling acid. Elsewhere, towering palm trees with jagged fangs sprouted in mere moments, their thorn-covered branches whipping through the battlefield, tearing flesh from bone with every strike."

"But humans were not entirely weak."

"Among their hundreds of thousands of troops, a hundred were no ordinary men. They were elemental controllers—superhumans capable of controlling fire, water, earth, and wind. The moment they witnessed the power of the Ajina Dala, they sprang into action."

"A fire wielder raised his hands toward the poisonous plants the Dala had grown, unleashing a wave of flames that consumed everything blocking the army’s path. An earth wielder shook the ground beneath them, opening fissures that swallowed several Ajina moving across the battlefield. Meanwhile, a wind wielder manipulated the air, turning the aconite’s toxic fumes back toward the Ajina Dala, forcing them to retreat a few steps."

"The battle at Thalapetra was not merely a war of numbers. It was a clash of strategy, instinct, and the raw forces of nature."

"The Ajina Dala were being pushed back, but they were not warriors who could be subdued easily. For every attack humanity unleashed, they retaliated with nature’s wrath, an unstoppable force in its own right. This war had only just begun, and history would remember it as one of the most brutal battles the world had ever witnessed."

"The Ajina Dala's forces had been cut in half. Their fallen bodies stood as silent witnesses to the sheer imbalance of this fight. But they were not a people who surrendered easily."

"Meanwhile, seven hundred thousand ordinary human soldiers still stood. Their ranks surged forward without pause, wave after wave crashing against the Ajina Dala, closing in from every direction. Among them, only sixty elemental wielders remained—but even in reduced numbers, they were an undeniable threat."

"The skies of Thalapetra, once a brilliant blue, had turned black—not just from the smoke of battle, but from the hundreds of Ajina who had taken the form of monstrous birds of prey, soaring through the air and striking with razor-sharp talons and beaks. Some had transformed into insects, slipping into the bodies of their enemies, devouring them from the inside before they could even scream. On the ground, Ajina in the form of savage beasts leaped into the heart of enemy lines, tearing through their ranks with untamed ferocity."

"But the Ajina were not the only ones unleashing chaos. The remaining Dala knew this was the turning point. With what little strength they had left, they grasped their final seeds—deadlier than anything before."

"The moment their fingers touched the surface of the seeds, the oasis soil responded once more. This time, it was not just aconite that sprouted, but belladonna, exhaling hallucinogenic toxins; rafflesia, spreading a suffocating stench; and colossal carnivorous plants with gaping maws, swallowing humans too slow to escape. New roots slithered across the battlefield, wrapping around fallen bodies, turning the dead into fertilizer for Ajina Dala’s last stand."

"But humanity did not stand idle. The elemental wielders launched a relentless counterattack. Fire manipulators incinerated the poisonous fields before they could spread further. Earth wielders raised towering stone pillars, skewering Ajina from below as they soared through the air. Meanwhile, wind wielders summoned miniature storms, tearing down those who still clung to the skies."

"The war raged on. Thalapetra, once a city teeming with life, had become nothing more than an ocean of blood and a mountain of corpses. The Ajina Dala still fought, but with every passing second, their hope grew thinner."

"The Ajina Dala knew this was their final stand. They fought without direction, yet whatever strength remained had to be used wisely. No more strategies, no more long-term plans—this was their last dance on the battlefield."

"The Ajina still fighting could feel their bodies slipping beyond their control. Slowly, they reverted to their human forms—exhausted, their bodies covered in wounds, their breaths ragged amid the swirling dust and blood. Those who once dominated the battlefield were now falling one by one. Without their pure beast allies by their side, their strength had waned drastically."

"Meanwhile, the remaining Dala stood pale as corpses. In the forests, they could fight endlessly, drawing power directly from the earth beneath their feet. But here, in the sun-scorched oasis city, with their dwindling pouches of seeds, they had exhausted their last resources."

"The sun climbed higher, burning away the final remnants of Ajina Dala’s resistance."

"Now, only a handful of them remained, encircled by the thousands of human soldiers still standing."

"The war that shook history had reached its climax."

"Amid a sea of corpses and blood-stained earth, only a few dozen Ajina Dala remained. They were exhausted, their bodies torn and battered, their breaths heavy and labored. The Ajina’s beast forms had faded, leaving them in vulnerable human bodies. The last surviving Dala could barely stand, their faces as pale as cloth soaked too long in water."

"Their bodies, once filled with strength, now hung limp, battered by exhaustion and despair. The stench of blood and decay thickened the air, mingling with the dust swirling beneath the merciless sun. Only a handful of them remained, barely able to stand. Their vacant eyes gazed upon the sea of human soldiers still standing tall, ready to claim their final victory."

"But the humans did not rush. They had something crueler than mere slaughter."

"The scorching sun burned without mercy, yet nothing could compare to the searing heat in their chests when they saw what emerged from the ranks of their enemies."

"From the back of the human army, prisoners were dragged to the center of the battlefield. But the faces—they were familiar. People long presumed dead, brothers and sisters thought to have fallen to the terror of the Orange Akatara. Their bodies were scarred, their faces pale, yet the uniforms they wore exposed a long-crafted lie. The black armor of the Orange Akatara shadow soldiers clung to their frail frames, branding them as traitors in the eyes of the world."

"But this was no betrayal. This was a deception woven long before the war began."

"The Orange Akatara had taken them long ago. Some of the missing Dala had not died, had not fled—but had been imprisoned and manipulated. Their identities had been erased, their existence wiped away in an instant. And then, when the time was right, they were brought back into the world—puppets in a cruel performance of deceit."

"After a series of noble assassinations shook the world, the Orange Akatara brought the captives before the human leaders. With their mastery of deception, they wove a tale so convincing that the humans believed it without question—the prisoners were the masterminds behind the massacres. Blinded by rage and thirst for vengeance, humanity accepted this 'betrayal' as truth, never once seeking to uncover the reality beneath the lie."

"Those captured Dala were the spark that ignited it all. The ones who had vanished without a trace now stood upon the battlefield, cursed as enemies."

"From the very beginning, this was never a war born of mere misunderstanding. The humans had never come to negotiate. They had arrived with a singular purpose—to wipe out Ajina Dala."

"For the Ajina who remained, the sight of those prisoners was a blow deeper than any wound. They had never imagined that this war was born from Dala’s blood. Not because the Dala now stood among the enemy, but because it was their existence—manipulated, twisted—that had steadily poisoned relations between their people and humanity for so long. And now, they were the ones who had to pay the price for that so-called betrayal."

"A fracture began to form—one deeper than any wound inflicted by the enemy."

"The remaining Ajina stood in silence, their bodies covered in wounds, their breaths heavy. But it was not just exhaustion that crept over them—something far worse gnawed at them from within. Their gazes began to shift, no longer focused solely on the enemy that still stood, but on the Dala who lay scattered among them."

"One Ajina, who had been carrying a wounded Dala on his back, suddenly stopped. His eyes drifted toward the line of Dala prisoners kneeling before the humans. Without warning, he let go. The half-conscious Dala tumbled to the ground, rolling into a pool of blood. The Ajina did not look back, standing motionless, leaving his fallen comrade behind without a second thought."

"Around him, the other Ajina began to step away from the Dala. Some hesitated, struggling with their doubts, but their expressions had changed. Some turned their faces away, jaws clenched as rage boiled beneath their skin. Others, without realizing it, had begun to raise their weapons toward the Dala."

"The remaining Dala crawled forward, their trembling hands reaching for the Ajina still standing. But no hands reached back to pull them up. Some Ajina stepped away, leaving them behind in the ruins of the battlefield."

"The suffocating silence hung in the air, more painful than the clash of swords. Amidst the flames devouring the remnants of the city, amidst the wind carrying the stench of blood, the trust that once united them now cracked, crumbling without anyone trying to save it.

"The humans simply watched this spectacle with satisfaction. They danced atop the ruins, believing it to be their victory. Unaware that behind the storm forming on the horizon, Orange Akatara was smiling, watching the fall of Ajina Dala without ever lifting a single blade."

"The humans laughed, tossing their weapons into the air, celebrating their triumph over the fallen Ajina Dala. But their joy did not last long."

"A violent sandstorm emerged on the horizon, swirling wildly, as if it had been planned from the start. The wind howled, carrying grains of sand that pierced the skin and blurred vision. The human soldiers staggered, their formations shattering as the storm engulfed the city of Thalapetra. From within the vortex, the forces of Orange Akatara slipped through, clad in their infiltrator garb that blended seamlessly with the storm."

"Amidst the chaos, the pure beasts were unleashed. Various creatures ran rampant, hunting down the Ajina who lay helpless. Their fangs and claws tore into the flesh of the gravely wounded Ajina. From their bites, blood spilled, and with their final breath, the dying Ajina drank it in. Moments later, their bodies fell lifeless, yet the beasts that had bitten them began to change. They grew larger, their bodies adapting to a new awareness that had been embedded within them."

"The Beasts then carried away the remaining conscious Ajina, fleeing the city. They ran through the storm, leaving behind the remnants of the fallen Dala on the battlefield. The humans, who had once cheered, could now only watch their departure in bewilderment."

"This was no coincidence. It was a strategy crafted from the very beginning by Ajina Dala. They never intended to confront the humans directly; they only sought an opportunity to escape and retaliate in a place where the odds favored them. Long before they arrived in Thalapetra, they had already made contact with Orange Akatara. Orange Akatara had warned them that the humans were not coming to negotiate, but to slaughter. Yet, with no other viable option, Ajina Dala had no choice but to select Thalapetra as the meeting ground—the closest city to the Dala homeland, even though it lay tens of thousands of miles away and had always been an impossible battlefield."

"Orange Akatara had promised aid if the humans attacked. This sandstorm, along with the pure beasts, was the reinforcement they had been waiting for. But the storm did not arrive when it was needed most. It came only when the war had reached its breaking point, when Ajina Dala stood on the brink of annihilation. When it finally arrived, it was not as a savior, but as a final escape route."

"What had just occurred was a ritual of consciousness transfer. The gravely wounded Ajina had shifted their identities into the bodies of pure beasts. But this was no simple exchange—those who underwent the ritual had to be alive and willing to abandon their humanoid selves forever. They were no longer Ajina, no longer human. They were beasts, wild creatures now carrying the remnants of minds that had once belonged to warriors."

"As the storm faded into the distance, only ruin remained in Thalapetra. The Ajina were gone, the remaining Dala lay motionless in despair, and the humans, who had just celebrated their victory, could do nothing but stand in silent confusion, realizing that this war might not be over after all."

"The surviving Ajina moved north, leaving behind Thalapetra, now a field of death. They were last seen crossing the Solorian Sea through the southern coast of the Sylvalis continent, finding refuge on a remote island that would later be known as Valchar Island. During that time of war, the island remained uninhabited, as living apart from the mainland was considered taboo among humans. There, the Ajina vanished from history, living in the shadows without a trace, never again speaking their name with pride—until the time was right."

"However, not all who remained met their end. A handful of Dala emerged from the storm, making their way back to their homeland. They carried the tales of war, but more than that, they carried accusations. They did not speak of their own ruin but of the betrayal of the Ajina—of how they had fled, abandoning the Dala to face slaughter by the hands of humans alone. No one questioned the truth of their words, for the absence of returning Ajina only strengthened the accusations."

"It did not take long for vengeance to find its path. The remaining Dala took up arms. Any Ajina who still remained in their homeland was hunted down, wiped out without mercy. A bond forged since ancient times crumbled in an instant, shattered into pieces beyond repair."

"Now, there was no longer an Ajina Dala. Only Ajina and Dala—two races that had once walked side by side, now turning their blades against each other. Alongside the humans who still sought to conquer the world, and the ever-elusive Orange Akatara hiding behind the chaos, the balance of the world had collapsed. This war marked the beginning of divine retribution."

"For a hundred years after the great war, neither Ajina nor Dala took part in the world’s conflicts. They remained hidden, focused on restoring their dwindling numbers. Yet, in the shadows, Orange Akatara continued to move, shaping the world to their will."

"From the mid-13th century to the early 14th century, Orange Akatara became a terror haunting humanity. With only a few hundred members, they spread chaos without ever truly revealing themselves. No one knew where their base lay, how they operated, or when they would strike. This uncertainty forced humanity into a war against an enemy they could not see, as fear slowly tore their unity apart."

"At the the mid-13th century, the human world was still composed of three great kingdoms, with a central empire holding the last five remaining Akatara clans. Yet, paranoia and greed slowly unraveled this fragile order. The empire, meant to serve as the balance of power, became a battleground for control. The rulers, consumed by distrust, each sought to claim dominion over the Akatara clans to protect themselves from the looming threat of Orange Akatara."

"By the early 14th century, more than fifty kingdoms, both great and small, had spread across the world. Once united, humanity had fractured, warring over the possession of the five imprisoned Akatara clans. They believed that by controlling one of these clans, they could uncover a way to stop Orange Akatara. Yet the truth was far from their hopes. Orange Akatara thrived in the chaos, lurking in the shadows, waiting for the perfect moment to reclaim what was rightfully theirs."

"They began with the Yellow Akatara Clan, the masters of Space. Through near-perfect deception and infiltration, they successfully liberated them. It did not take long for them to reshape the beliefs of the Yellow Akatara’s descendants, instilling a deep hatred for humanity. Then, they set their sights on the Green Akatara Clan, the rulers of Biological power. With this second triumph, Orange Akatara was no longer a whispered legend in the dark. They had become an undeniable force."

“Their golden age was in 1330, when a man named Hizashi Genshō emerged as their leader. Under his command, the Orange Akatara was no longer just a shadow hiding in secrecy, but a force prepared to rule the world.”

"Orange Akatara and its two allied clans successfully conquered the continents of Planis and Montavera, both lying to the east of the map. Most of humanity now clung to survival in Sylvalis, along the eastern coasts of Canovia and Arcanis. It should come as no surprise that, despite their smaller numbers, they were able to dominate half the world."

"Unlike the previous Akatara who fell due to internal strife, this generation stood united in an unparalleled force. Orange Akatara, the masters of matter, could turn the bodies of their enemies into dust in an instant—sublimating them like camphor, leaving no trace behind. Green Akatara, the biological controllers, had no reason to fear their smaller numbers. Their wounds healed in an instant, allowing them to fight endlessly without losing a single soldier. And the Akatara of Space, the rulers of reality’s fissures, made this war an unending game. They could teleport at will, vanish when near defeat, and strike again from angles no one could predict."

"This was no ordinary war. This was a battle akin to defying the descendants of the Gods."

"The fate of those who lived in Planis and Montavera ended in utter misfortune. No mercy, no compassion. Every city, every village, every trace of human civilization across the two continents was wiped from existence. Those who resisted vanished in the sublimation of Orange Akatara, their bodies dissolving like dust carried by the wind. Those who relied on sheer physical strength found their wounds never healing, while the Green Akatara stood on the battlefield, their bodies untouched by harm. And those who tried to escape only ran endlessly through portals of space, forever pursued by the shadows of the Space Akatara that emerged at every possible exit."

"Orange Akatara and their allies did not merely seek to conquer land—they were rebuilding something far greater. Their shared ambition was the restoration of the Akatara Dynasty, an ancient order once destroyed by the betrayal and weakness of their ancestors. But true supremacy had yet to be achieved. Humans still roamed the other corners of the world. The Ajina Dala remained hidden, refusing to reveal themselves."

"They had no intention of prolonging this war. Their focus now turned to their ultimate target—the Magenta Akatara Clan. The Ruler of this clan was the final key, the one who could bring an end to the war in the blink of an eye. If the Ruler of the Magenta Clan fell into their hands, the elemental legacy that flowed within humanity would be stripped away, ending all resistance before the next war could even begin."

"The remaining humans in the continents of Arcanis and Canovia continued their desperate march southward, fleeing further from the devastation left by Orange Akatara and their allies. Yet, in their frantic escape, they stumbled upon a new peril."

"Deep within the tropical rainforests of Canovia, they encountered an old enemy—the Dala. After vanishing from the world's great conflicts for so long, this race had now reemerged. But this time, they were no longer merely survivors. They had taken something invaluable from humanity."

"In the midst of chaos and despair, the Turquoise Clan—the controllers of time—fell into the hands of the Dala."

"Meanwhile, Orange Akatara and their allies had finally discovered the kingdom that carries the Magenta Akatara Clan—the final key to their grand ambition. The relentless chase carried them across continents and oceans, until at last, the hunt led them to an island that seemed abandoned."

"But the moment they set foot upon its shores, the truth was revealed. Valchar Island."

"An untouched land, deep in the depths of the Solorian Sea, untouched by the outside world. There, a group of figures, taller than average, stood in silence, their faces concealed behind masks that not only obscured their appearance but also their voices. The garments they wore felt familiar, enough to leave anyone who saw them frozen in confusion and fear. No one had ever imagined that for centuries, this was where Ajina had been hiding—waiting in the shadows, anticipating the moment to come."

"Two major events took place in the 1350 (for Dala's reappearance) and 1353 (for Ajina's reappearance). At that time, the number of the Orange Akatara had reached hundreds, while their allies remained limited, no more than thirty."

"Anything can happen when the Time-Manipulating Clan falls into the hands of the Dala. Time can be folded, reality can be altered, and history can be rewritten as if truth were nothing more than a mere choice."

"Yet, even with all the chaos they are capable of, what happened on Valchar Island was far more astonishing. Unexpectedly, the Green Akatara—who had always seemed loyal to their kin—had turned their backs. They now stood on the other side, defending the Ajina."

"But why? What made them turn away from their old bonds? What did they see—or more precisely, what had been hidden from them all along?"

"As the story unfolds, we draw ever closer to the days of Crancrse's birth."