In the first age, there was only darkness and chaos ravaged the land, there was no greater being or deity who watched over, yet all seemed to cower when they hear the north.

But what was in there that shook these demonic fiends to their core?

A large white castle, stood atop of the crooked mountain, overlooking the vast open fields.

Lording over the fiends was a tall figure, humanoid in stature, dressed sharply as a regal noble man. He had long black hair, eyes which were red as blood and skin, so pale that he looked like a corpse.

[ DMITRI CADAEL MORTAS ARAMASTUS ]

The name held so much weight that even uttering it felt like being crushed by a mountain.

Feared by many and revered by a few.

He served as the ruler of the unholy land until an unknown assailant stepped forth to oppose him.

Before the final blow was struck, he separated a tiny part of his body using blood magic and ran away.

For a millennia, he slept in hopes of regaining his powers and the time to awaken is nigh.

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