The surface of the ancient sea was as white as fresh milk, perfectly still and stretching infinitely toward the horizon. Standing upon its glass-like surface, the Deity looked down—not at his reflection, but through the waters, toward the fragile planet, Earth.
It was so young, yet already bleeding. The first wave of humanity was struggling to survive. They had anchored themselves with holy scriptures—laws of light and order meant to guide them through the darkness. But the Asuras were faster. The Asuras had appeared out of thin air, tearing the wisdom from human clutches, rendering them in a sorry state. The scriptures were meant to guide humans and protect them, instead they were being used to erase them.
As a Deity, the primordial laws forbade him from reaching down and crushing the demons with a thought. As a Nurturer, however, the silence was becoming unbearable. Each cry that rose from the mortal realm felt like a tear in his own heart. He was truly helpless in his deity form.
"My children are being tormented," he whispered, his voice rippling across the milky sea. "Lost, with no one to show them the path. I will not stand by and watch this madness continue."
He took a step forward, his divine form beginning to shimmer and fade. "If I cannot interfere as a God, I will guide them as one of their own. Ten thousand years or nine lifetimes—it does not matter. I am going down." So the deity had decided.
On Earth, the air was thick with the scent of smoke, iron and blood.
Rona, a young man whose frame looked far too fragile for the heavy bronze sword he gripped, stood trembling in front of a small cellar. Behind him, a dozen crowded children were taking shelter. Before him stood the Asuras—monstrous silhouettes against the village flames, laughing as they moved in to claim their new "stock."
"Big brother Rona, please!" one of the older girls sobbed, pulling at his tattered tunic. "They won't kill us—they need us for the sacrifice. They won't kill us right away. But they will kill you! Please, run to the forest while they are distracted!"
Rona didn't turn back. His knees felt weak and vision blurry, his arms were going numb, but his grip on the sword didn't waver. "I am a warrior of Keti," he wheezed. "And a warrior does not negotiate with monsters. If you are to be taken, it will be over my lifeless body."
The lead Asura let out a deafening roar, raising a jagged black blade. He lunged and unleashed a barrage of strikes upon the young man. Rona braced for the end, his eyes closing as his strength finally gave out.
But the killing blow never landed.
Suddenly, the cold terror in Rona's chest was set ablaze by a sun-like warmth. The blood flowing from his wounds didn't just stop—it vanished. His skin knit back together in seconds, and his thin muscles were now brimming with vitality.
Rona opened his eyes. The world looked different. The mountains in the distance suddenly felt like pebbles he could crush; the air felt like a thin veil he could tear with a single thought. The Asura froze, its weapon trembling. It didn't see a fragile villager anymore; it saw something that made its demonic blood run cold.
The Deity had arrived.
Rona didn't know whose voice was speaking—his own or the ancient power flowing through his veins—but the words echoed like thunder:
"The heavens have watched your cruelty long enough; today, I am the answer to your sins."