Prologue

“Hear me, people of Acluraria, I, the ruler, will bestow the blessing of power to people of all kinds.”

The man cleared his throat, eyes staring down at thousands of people, his podium stretched into the air like a skyscraper. The vast world under his entire grip, all under his command with one magical device that allowed his voice to reach all around.

The device roared in volume, louder: “Those with no magic shall prosper, those with magic shall prosper too. In a world where we all are equal!”

The crowd chanted back, trembling the earth itself: “To the new era! To the new era!” They were riled up, hands raised into the air.

Allowing this to continue for a couple of moments, the crowd slowly died down, waiting for the next words to be spoken; the entire world took a moment of silence.

“I, the ruler of Acluraria, promise you all. ”

The man then stayed quiet for a moment; tension climbed to every spine in the crowd, and they began to shiver almost from silence alone.

“I alone will set Acluraria to a new era!”

What followed after wasn’t short of a miracle; with decades, buildings of metal rose, many new walls and weaponry to aid expansion, structures flourished, and the economy boomed. He not only changed the laws of the world but also how it operated.

The new era. Where mages were equal to common folk, where one could live with the other like a family, not separated by innate ability, but where one could also kill the other like a mere inconvenience, it was a new era. But only time could tell if it was an era that was worth staying in.

Decades later in a room in Acluraria:

A cough echoed across the luxurious room; dark brown elaroth wood furniture surrounded the massive king-size bed, and a white-bearded man, nearly dead, lay there. Beside him was a single maid, blonde hair with green emerald eyes. She wore a black and white lizin woven outfit, very fancy for the time.

“Tell me, Arabel. These past decades all won’t go to waste, will they? Our future of peace, our fate to coexist as equals. Will that child be able to do such a thing?”

Arabel stood silent. “Only fate can tell, but they will be hailed as a successor. Even if not your blood. That creation is what we must entrust the future to. His magic potential itself rivals yours; he will be a great mage for sure.”

Another cough erupted from the old man. “A great mage is reassuring. But will he share the same dream or succumb to those hypocrites.”

Arabel didn’t reply. The old man just scoffed at the silence before closing his eyes. Just a hint of dissatisfaction lay on his face.

And so passed the year 541 of Acluraria. The death of ruler Wulmar Valemont, the seventh ruler of Acluraria.