“Anyone bound for the pond to hunt frogs? We need a healer! Party’s ready to march!”

“Selling level-five gear! Common axe, rare staff, and a basic armor set—any takers?”

“I’m a human mage, level three. Who needs a spellweaver?”

…

As twilight wove its deepening veil, the Dominion of the Celestials pulsed with vivid life.

The sun sank beyond the western hills,

Yet the Haven of Beginnings thrummed with unyielding vigor.

As waves of players poured in, the village blazed with a clamor surpassing its humble dawn.

At the gates, a motley throng converged—some rallying comrades for quests, others peddling gear, or swapping tales and stratagems.

Players of every hue painted this unassuming hamlet with vibrant, untamed spirit.

…

“By level ten, new powers shall awaken… My lord!”

Caelum Veyne glided through the village, heedless of the buzzing crowd.

His fingers grazed his wrist, eyes locked on the amber sunset, his murmurs a private litany.

Four skills, gifts of his chosen path, lay within his grasp.

First, the cornerstone: Formshift,

A vital art for all Disciples of Calamity.

Formshift: Shift freely between Draconid and human guise.

This veil shielded him from the vigilant Emissaries of the Divine and their zealous factions across the Dominion of the Celestials. In human form, his attributes dwindled to half, and Calamity’s arts lay sealed.

Thus, Caelum donned mortal flesh upon entering the village.

Most NPCs in the Haven of Beginnings stood neutral, but a priest of the Radiant Conclave ever lingered, tending wounds and beckoning souls to their holy cause.

To be unmasked by such a figure would court peril.

His remaining skills were forged for battle.

Calamity’s Wrath (Draconid only): When rage surges full, unleash a frenzied state, doubling magical and physical might, halving wounds received, and raising all magical resistances by 5. Cooldown: 5 minutes. Drains 1 rage and 1% life per second.

A formidable boon, it doubled his prowess in fleeting bursts, slashed incoming harm, and fortified his defenses.

A force unparalleled!

Yet its fire demanded mastery, lest he consume himself.

A skill of boundless promise, its value endured through the ages.

Ebonflame Orb: A dark flame weaves a searing projectile, wreaking vast magical ruin upon foes in range, with lingering burns and corrosive decay. Cooldown: 10 seconds. Mana cost: 10.

Talon Rend (Draconid only): Rake enemies with razor claws, carving physical wounds with a chance to draw blood.

Two blades of war—one a primal physical strike, the other a potent magical bolt.

Both shone with excellence,

Eclipsing the mage’s feeble bolt or the warrior’s lumbering slash.

Buff, sorcery, steel—

Caelum’s arsenal gleamed with peerless versatility.

Thus armed, he towered over those tethered to a single, paltry skill.

This was the might bestowed by that sublime sovereign!

On the game’s inaugural day, when even elite teams languished at level five,

Caelum, a solitary reaper, had scaled the dizzying peak of level seven.

With the Draconid’s iron frame and lethal arts, he felled same-level beasts with reckless ease.

He hadn’t ventured far when—

“Ho, adventurer, back already?”

An old man in roughspun cloth hailed him with a hearty wave, his smile warm.

“Elder, here are the Stormfang Wolf claws you sought!”

Caelum drew a pair of bloodstained claws from his inventory, presenting them with a steady voice.

“You… you truly triumphed!”

“Adventurer, you’re the mightiest soul these old eyes have beheld! Your reward!”

The elder’s gaze widened, awe lacing his words, as he pressed a parcel into Caelum’s hands with a beaming grin.

“Congratulations, you’ve completed the quest: Stormfang Wolves Ravaging Northwest Cloudhaven!”

“Gained 1000 Experience!”

“Gained 10 Silver Coins”

“Gained Rare Blade of Valor x1”

“Congratulations, you’ve leveled up!”

“Please allocate your stat points!”

A chorus of system chimes sang, a warm tide rising within.

Golden radiance wreathed him.

He had ascended.

As foreseen, he claimed level eight.

“Valiant adventurer, with such prowess… I trust you for this! One final task remains, and I would entrust it to you. The reward is rich, but the danger great. Are you prepared?”

The elder sighed, his clouded eyes dipping, a solemn glint flickering as he spoke gravely to Caelum.

“Of course!”

“Then venture to the southernmost reaches of the village…”

The elder gestured southward, poised to unveil the task’s secrets.

But in an instant, his eyes bulged with raw terror, his words strangling in his throat.

“This… this… how can it be?”

His lips quivered, voiceless,

His knees trembled without cease.

Beneath the dying ember of the sunset,

The heavens—

Black wings shrouded the firmament, quenching the sun’s final glow.

Night descended, unbidden!

A primal dread slithered into every heart, a shadow uncalled.

Despair, as if the world’s end had dawned, clutched them.

Breaths faltered, gazes locked skyward, transfixed in silent awe.

At the horizon’s edge,

An obsidian dragon, vast and unfathomable, carved the heavens!

The calamity of oblivion, the Lord of Finality