Four thousand years ago, in what is remembered as both the Era of Destruction and the Era of New Beginnings, the war between angels and demons finally came to an end.

That conflict became known as the Aion War.

No one knows why the war began.

But its battlefield was not Heaven or Hell.

It was our world—Giaria.

From the skies above, the descendants of Heaven rained down holy fire upon the land.

From the depths below, the keepers of Hell unleashed carnage without end.

Rivers ran red with blood.

Not only the blood of angels and demons, but of the mortal races caught between them—humans, elves, beastmen, merfolk, and countless others.

Even the Dragoons, descendants of the ancient dragons and once considered the strongest beings in the realm, were nearly wiped out when they rose to challenge the two armies.

Many kingdoms were erased from the face of the world.

By the war’s end, entire civilizations had vanished, and Giaria stood on the brink of ruin.

Then, in humanity’s darkest hour, a hero was born.

He was not chosen for his power.

Nor was he destined for greatness.

He was forged from the sorrow, grief, and desperate prayers of countless lives.

According to legend, the Goddess of Creation and the Goddess of Life gave him a single command:

Enough lives have been lost. End this war.

The hero gathered loyal allies from every race that still remained and rose against the armies of Heaven and Hell.

For two centuries, they fought.

They pushed back both armies, but even united, they could not destroy them.

In the end, only one path remained.

The hero and his companions offered their lives to seal the two realms for eternity.

Their blood became the spell.

Their flesh became the covenant.

Their bones became the keys.

And so, the war that had raged for a thousand years finally came to an end.

In its aftermath began the Holy Era—the Age of Peace.

Kingdoms were rebuilt.

Nations rose from ruin.

Though the losses were immeasurable, civilization slowly recovered.

What had been reduced to ashes was rebuilt through cooperation, sacrifice, and hope.

Four thousand years passed.

The kingdoms of Giaria flourished once more.

Peace spread across the world.

But peace did not last forever.

Within that era of prosperity, a new being appeared.

It was neither angel nor demon.

Its power was so overwhelming that it left a scar upon history.

In a single night, an entire nation was erased.

No survivors.

No ruins.

Not even a trace remained.

Or so the world believed.

There was one survivor.

He was found wandering alone, his mind shattered by what he had witnessed.

Those who questioned him spoke of a man trembling with equal parts terror, awe, and fanatical devotion.

He could no longer remember his own name.

He could not explain what he had seen.

The only word he ever uttered was:

“Valariun.”