“In the beginning, no race possessed special talents, nor could we control the elements. All we relied on were our archaic weapons, brute strength and natural racial traits to fend off beasts, farm and survive. That was the First Age.”
Lord Winter sighed, his gaze lifting toward the altar. Asher followed his line of sight, curious, as if Lord Winter could see the era he spoke of.
“In that peaceful age, all races knew the Creator, whose name was I Am. They built temples to please him. But I Am did not want to conflict with his creations, so he left us to our own devices. One fateful day, however, he was pleased by four brothers playing near a temple—a temple nestled in the heart of the Dragon Lair Mountains, where the dragons once dwelt. Out of love, I Am blessed them.”
“Humans lived alongside dragons?” Asher raised an eyebrow in disbelief.
Lord Winter glanced at him with a faint smile. “No. At that time, those mountains were called the Endless Mountain Range. Dragons had not yet been created.”
Asher’s eyes widened, his pupils trembling. He couldn’t believe the idea that humans were older than dragons!
“The brothers grew with their talents—gifts, as the people called back then—and as they grew older, they grew stronger and it got to a point that nothing could stand in their path except for themselves. Eventually, their unity fractured and they divided the continent among themselves.
“Athantos, the eldest, was blessed with an unkillable body and the ability to generate lightning. He was undying so he founded the Eternal Immortal Empire, ruling over the northeastern region, where he was worshipped as a god. Over time, he forgot his creator and the bond he shared with his brothers, consumed by the glory given to him by the masses.”
“Ilios, the second-born, harnessed the power of the sun. He was the strongest of the four because he was more diligent and remained loyal to his creator but because of the strife, he also forged an empire. He established the Sacred Flame Empire in the central region and ruled it with diligence and honor.”
Lord Winter exhaled a breath of white mist, closing his eyes before continuing.
“Aniketos, the third-born was granted an armor over his skin, one that was impenetrable, impervious to any damage. He couldn’t be hurt, not even falling from the height of a mountain could leave a scratch on him. He was the first man to be called a knight, as his gift inspired the blueprint of armor. He created the Galvia Empire and ruled over the western region of Tenaria.”
Lord Winter fell silent, turning to walk out of the temple.
As he began descending the stairs, Asher frowned. “Are you leaving?”
Lord Winter turned back to face him. “I thought I was boring you.”
Asher’s eyes twitched. Until now he didn’t know that Boundless was two decades past 3,000 years old. This information wasn’t in the Boundless he had created. This meant, what he made was just similar and not truly this world…
It was weirdly similar, yet distinct.
“Besides,” Lord Winter added, “Why are you so quick to believe? I thought you doubted everything. You can’t believe the words of a man over 200 years old. You’re free to leave.”
Asher clenched his teeth as he watched the old man walk away.
“What about Kryos? What happened to him?” Asher forced out those questions, his words almost a growl.
Lord Winter paused mid-step.
“Oh, so you were listening.”
He returned to the temple and knelt before the altar again. Turning to Asher, he tilted his head. “Are you going to stand while an elder is on his knees? You might be Kryos’ vessel but you are far from mastering your powers or ascending to your rightful position.”
Grinding his teeth, Asher reluctantly went on his knees, stopping about five meters away from the altar.
“Now close your eyes and listen to me,” Lord Winter instructed.
Asher obeyed.
“Kryos, the last of the brothers, was the one who harnessed the power of frost. It was rumoured his frost could kill the heat of the sun and plunge the world into perpetual darkness and cold, erasing all life on Boundless. Among his brothers, he was the most ruthless—probably because they envied his unique gift, a power with its own consciousness. That envy marked him, leaving his face scarred. Kryos once ruled over what you now call the Wastelands and the Desolate Lands. Back then, it was called the Endless North and because it was under Kryos’ dominion, all seasons there turned to winter.”
Lord Winter peered at Asher.
“Lord Kryos still abided by the rules of I Am and maintained his destined path—until he received his scar. Fury consumed him and he strayed. The brothers were the First Men of the First Age, ruling their regions for a thousand years. But greed overtook them and they fought for sovereignty over Boundless, a world gifted to them by their creator. They forgot they weren’t gods but men and because of their ambitions wars erupted everywhere, engulfing all the races.” Stay tuned for updates on empire
He sighed deeply, a shadow of sorrow crossing his face.
“In those days, mana was the energy that flowed within our veins, but the war destabilized it, splitting it into Magi and Battle Force.”
Lord Winter’s face changed at that moment. “It happened because the four brothers finally clashed, unleashing all their powers and the moment they destroyed the energy’s stability, I Am was forced to intervene.”
Right at that moment, Asher’s vision blurred. Suddenly, he found himself suspended in the air, looking at four imposing figures which could be mistaken for god-like entities.
One wore golden armor, his hair and eyes made of fire. His skin had burned away, so Asher could see the red flesh encased underneath the unyielding flames.
‘Ilios’
Beside him stood another figure cloaked entirely in black, his golden eyes glowing beneath a pair of imposing horns. Instead of radiating a frightening presence, the man looked imposing and majestic as his black hair fluttered along with his cloak.
‘Aniketos…’
To Ilios’ right stood a giant of a man, clad in Greek-style armor. His muscles bulged and his body was adorned with symbolic tattoos all over his red skin that glistened beneath the sun, and his golden hair shone like a crown.
‘Athanatos.’
The last figure, also clad in Greek-style armor with a battle skirt like that of his brothers and had lustrous snow-white hair that flowed down, reaching his waist.
He wielded two swords, his black cloak snapping in the wind.
‘Kryos.’
The brothers faced each other as if the land they stood on could no longer handle any more of their clash.
Despite the ferocity of their battle, none of them bore any injuries on their bodies—only their armor showed signs of wear, with scratches and cuts etched into its surface.
Just as they were about to clash once more, golden lightning coiled in the clouds, as if the world was gathering its energy into one spot and then it struck down.
Boom!
The explosion sent a massive dust wave spanning hundreds of kilometers, Asher’s eyes remained fixed. From the heart of the blast emerged a humanoid being, its form seemingly composed entirely of golden lighting with its magnificent and mighty wings, stretched far beyond its body.
The being’s eyes were blinding white, filled with profound sorrow. As a pulse of energy erupted from the being, it wiped out everything that lay in its path—mountains, water bodies, forests, living beings, even the First Men—obliterated.
Not a trace remained!
Swoosh!
The vision faded and Asher fell heavily on the ground, sweat drenching his back. When he looked at the winged statue right before him, his right arm trembled.
‘No wonder I felt such fear…’
Lord Winter’s voice cut through the silence. “And that was the end of the First Age. I Am, in sorrow and regret, wiped out the brothers from existence.”