Prolouge.

In a world where magic was everywhere, modernized cars ran on mana, police forces forged weapons through it, and humanity integrated it into nearly every aspect of life, people could create nearly anything imaginable through mana. Scientists studied it endlessly, discovering new applications every year, while ancient clans continued to rely on elemental variations passed down through generations. To most people, mana had simply become another part of modern society. But it had not always been so controlled.

When mana first appeared, it was wild, catastrophic, impossible to understand. Entire cities vanished beneath uncontrolled storms of energy, mountains split apart, oceans boiled, and humanity stood powerless before it. Yet among the chaos, there were people capable of surviving mana instead of being destroyed by it. The first users integrated it into their very essence rather than merely wielding it, becoming something beyond human. Those people came to be worshipped as gods and goddesses. Their magic was known as primordial mana, the purest and most destructive form ever seen. It held no utility, no convenience, no purpose beyond overwhelming power and destruction.

As centuries passed, humanity slowly tamed mana more and more. Modern techniques became safer, cleaner, easier to control. The age of primordial users faded into history, feared more than admired. Many practitioners were hunted down, entire bloodlines wiped away, while the survivors isolated themselves from the modern world in an attempt to preserve what remained of the ancient arts.

Among those survivors were the primordial clans. Fire. Ice. Wind. Lightning. Earth.

High atop snowy mountains stood the last dojo of the primordial fire clan, isolated from the outside world for generations. The practitioners wore rough red cloaks alongside combat-ready kimonos, every member hiding their face behind unique masks that represented their identity. Some masks were gold and elegant, others cracked, asymmetrical, or painted in strange colors. Despite their isolation, the outside world knew of them well. The primordial clans had become less like people and more like living myths, terrifying remnants of a violent age humanity wished to move beyond. Recently though, one clan had suddenly vanished. The primordial earth clan.

No survivors were found, and no explanation was ever given. Rumors spread endlessly across the modern world, theories ranging from internal betrayal to government extermination. But regardless of the truth, fear surrounding the primordial clans only continued to grow. As civilization advanced further and mana became increasingly refined, people began questioning whether destructive powers like the primordial arts should continue existing at all.

And eventually… Someone finally decided the answer was no.

“Let’s remind the world why we are their veritable gods.”