On an island far north of the Mediterranean coast stood an ancient civilization unlike any other.
The people who lived there were not farmers, not scholars, not merchants—
They were warriors.
From birth.
Boys learned to hunt before they could speak. Food was earned through blood, water was drawn from fractured stone, and sleep came only to those who survived the day. No one complained.
Strength was the only law they knew.
For centuries, nothing changed.
Until the First Century.
That was when a man named ULF stepped forward—and proclaimed himself king.
The warriors had never known a king. They had only known survival. Yet ULF stood before them and declared:
"Power without order will destroy us. The gods themselves have chosen me to rule."
Many followed.
Many bowed.
But one man did not.
BJORN.
Bjorn was taller than most, stronger than nearly all, and feared by men who claimed to fear nothing. When ULF declared himself king, Bjorn stepped forward and spoke a single sentence that echoed across the island:
"Warriors bow to no man."
What followed was no mere duel.
It was war between two forces that felt closer to gods than men.
For sixteen hours, they clashed without rest.
The earth split beneath their feet. Spears shattered on impact. Stones were hurled like thunder. Blood and dust filled the air so thick it became difficult to breathe.
ULF lost his right eye.
He lost his left hand.
But he never fell.
Bjorn lost a leg—
Yet stood on the other as though death itself had no claim over him.
At the end of the sixteenth hour…
Bjorn fell.
Silence followed.
But ULF offered no mercy.
He commanded that Bjorn's family be slaughtered before his eyes—ensuring the last thing Bjorn would witness was the extinction of his bloodline.
Then ULF spoke, his voice carrying across generations:
"From this day forward, every ruler shall bear my name.
Every generation shall serve under it."
The island did not celebrate.
It became silent.
Not peaceful—
Silent.
For five generations, the name ULF ruled.
The warriors still hunted. Still fought. Still slept on the bare earth.
But something had changed.
Respect became fear.
And fear became law.
Then came TITUS ULF.
In his youth, he killed over fifty men to prove his dominion.
These were not ordinary warriors. Each possessed speed like lightning, reflexes honed to perfection, and strength capable of lifting over a ton.
And he slaughtered them all.
The elders whispered that no ruler in history had ever reached such power.
Fear spread across the island like wildfire.
But power breeds resentment.
Whispers became plots.
Plots became betrayal.
And eventually—
Titus fell.
His era became known as the bloodiest in history.
A time when strength ruled without restraint…
And the name ULF became synonymous with terror.
The horrors of Titus forced the Twelve Elders to gather in secret.
This council had been created generations earlier under August ULF, meant to prevent tyranny.
Now, they faced their greatest decision.
It was then that Elder Pilates spoke.
"Let the next ruler be… a woman."
The chamber erupted.
Some laughed.
Some protested.
Some were outraged.
"How can a woman rule warriors?" they demanded.
Pilates remained calm.
"Men rely on their own strength. A woman will rely on them. She will listen. She will seek counsel. She will restore balance."
Elder Cleitus opposed him.
"And what happens when she grows powerful? When she turns against us?"
Pilates answered without hesitation:
"Then her reign will end in hours.
Titus took years to defeat. She would not."
Silence followed.
Then another voice rose.
Euclid.
"I stand with Pilates."
The elders turned.
Euclid's voice hardened.
"Have you forgotten Titus?
The famine he wished upon us?
The daughters he violated?
The horrors we dare not speak?"
The room fell into heavy silence.
"Choose another man like him… and we destroy ourselves."
One by one, the elders began to understand.
And in the end—
They made their decision.
A woman would rule.
The decree spread across the land.
And the warriors were furious.
To them, fighting a woman felt unnatural—like a lion hunting without hunger.
Yet rage burned within them.
Rebellion rose.
And it was led by one name:
Tal ULF.
The last true descendant of the ULF bloodline.
"A woman can never rule," he declared.
Pilates stepped forward.
"Thou art a foolish boy. Seize him."
No one moved.
The warriors stood still.
"Did you not hear me?" Pilates shouted. "Seize him!"
A voice answered:
"We cannot harm a ULF."
Pilates' face hardened.
"Then you are all cast out of the Asylum."
Some stayed.
Some followed Tal.
And just like that—
They were gone.
Years passed.
Within the Asylum, peace flourished under Queen Maye. Order returned. Stability followed.
For the first time in generations—
Hope existed.
Far to the south, Tal and his followers lived freely.
No rules.
No kings.
Only the sea stretching endlessly before them.
And among that freedom…
There was Talia.
Tal watched her often.
Silently.
Endlessly.
Carrying words he never spoke.
One evening, he found her staring at the sea.
He sat beside her.
"Thou thinkest of thine own beauty?"
She smiled faintly.
"I must decline."
"O Talia… beauty itself bows to thee."
She turned slightly.
"Why have you come?"
He answered softly:
"You."
A quiet pause.
"You have my heart," he continued,
"for your presence gives life to mine."
Before she could respond—
A voice called out.
"TALIA! Where are you?!"
She stood quickly.
"My father…"
Tal called out:
"Sir Wyatt! Your daughter is safe!"
Moments later, her father arrived—
Calm.
Trusting.
"Tal is strong," he said. "And he is good. His lineage is troubled… but he will protect you."
And so—
Love grew.
Slowly.
Deeply.
Until it became undeniable.
Talia became pregnant.
Tal stood by her.
And when the child was born—
Joy spread across them all.
They named him:
Oliver Tal ULF.
But peace…
Never lasts.
Back in the Asylum—
A new ruler, Minerva, rose to power.
She stood before the people, ready to speak—
When suddenly—
Her body lifted into the air.
Lifeless.
Dropped.
Dead.
Screams erupted.
Her husband stepped forward—
And was killed instantly.
Elder Pilates fell to his knees.
"NOSX… please… have mercy…"
A voice echoed through the land:
"Is this your king…? The one my people could not kill?"
Fear consumed them.
"ULF is alive!" Pilates cried. "Spare us—he is in the south—!"
Too late.
The King of NOSX moved.
Faster than thought.
Faster than time.
Far to the south—
Tal stood beside Talia.
Both smiling.
Unaware.
A presence appeared behind them—
A fraction of a nanosecond away…
From ending everything.