In the waning days of the Age of Legends, Terra bled. Its seven continents—Migraid, Silfwale, Austoa, Ajia, Migrudia, Saratica, and Euron—trembled beneath the weight of endless war. The skies burned crimson as the clash of magic, steel, and ancient wrath tore through the lands. Humans and elves rallied behind the shining banner of the Hero, led by the graceful yet fearsome Elf Queen Mimilia von Roth. Opposing them stood the Demon King of Endings and the Beast Queen Mohona van Asgo, uniting demons and beastkin in a final stand.
At the heart of the crumbling world, two figures faced each other amid the ruins of a battlefield that had once been a thriving plain. The corpses of armies littered the ground, a grim tapestry of loyalty and blood. Thunder cracked above, not from the storm, but from magic—pure, volatile, and divine.
Kaisal Vol Nava, the Demon King of Endings, stood clad in blackened obsidian armor, its surface pulsing with runes of a forgotten age. His crimson eyes glowed beneath his crown of horns, and in his right hand he wielded Riglia, the Slayer of Gods—a curved, one-edged blade forged in the heart of the Abyss. Opposite him, radiant and resolute, stood Rainhart von Haliohart, the sixth prince of Heliohartia and the Hero of Beginnings. Clad in silver and sapphire armor and armed with Fataria, the Destiny Defining Blade, Rainhart exuded the hope of all creation.
The wind stilled. The world held its breath.
"You are formidable," Kaisal said, his voice low and calm. "In another life, perhaps we could have been friends."
Rainhart's grip on Fataria tightened. His eyes, still kind despite everything, met his opponent's. "The same could be said for you, Demon King."
A silence passed between them—one born of mutual respect and the weight of inevitability.
Kaisal tilted his head. "May I know your name?"
Rainhart hesitated. "It's Hero."
"No," Kaisal pressed, a faint smile on his lips. "Your real name."
Rainhart studied him for a moment. Then, narrowing his gaze, he said, "Those eyes of yours... Eyes of Truth, aren't they?"
Kaisal chuckled. "So, you know of them."
"No wonder you're called the strongest Demon King in history," Rainhart said with a soft sigh. "You see through lies with a glance. Very well. I am Rainhart von Haliohart, sixth prince of the Empire of Heliohartia."
Kaisal nodded slowly. "A fitting name for a worthy rival."
"And you?" Rainhart asked.
"Kaisal Vol Nava," he replied. "The last king of the Abyssborn."
They stood, swords lowered for but a moment, not as enemies, but as men bound by fate and promises.
"I have someone waiting for me," Rainhart said. "Someone I promised I'd return to."
"Your lover," Kaisal guessed.
Rainhart gave a small nod. "Yes."
"You're not the only one," Kaisal said, his voice softening. "I have a beloved too—Mohona. I have to end this, for her."
With that, they charged.
Riglia and Fataria collided in an explosion of light and shadow. Arcane sigils burst to life beneath their feet. Kaisal called upon the black fire of the Underlands, while Rainhart summoned holy lightning from the skies. Their clash shook the mountains in the distance. Time itself seemed to warp as magic and steel raged between them.
The battle stretched on—minutes felt like hours. Cuts bled, armor cracked, yet neither yielded. Magic circles exploded with each step. The ground quaked with every swing. They were warriors, kings, and legends.
And finally, both exhausted, drenched in blood and sweat, they stood face to face once more.
"You are strong," Rainhart panted.
"As are you," Kaisal replied.
No more words were needed. With a final roar, they leapt—and plunged their swords into each other's hearts.
The world froze.
Both men collapsed to their knees, blades buried in flesh, breath shallow.
"Ironic," Kaisal murmured, "that the end and the beginning would end each other."
Rainhart smiled faintly. "Or maybe... we just gave the world a chance to begin again."
Their bodies fell beside one another as darkness claimed them.
Across the battlefield, two cries of agony ripped through the sky.
Mohona van Asgo, the Beast Queen, fell to her knees as she sensed Kaisal's life fade. "KAISAL!!!"
Mimilia von Roth, the Elf Queen, let loose a shriek that shattered the stillness. "RAINHART!"
Grief tore through them, and with it, their magic erupted. Elemental forces ravaged the land, wiping out the remnants of both armies. The final legacy of that war was obliteration.
Ten thousand years later, in a gleaming city of the Ajia continent, the world had changed. Magic was regulated, society had evolved, and the war was now a forgotten myth.
In a quiet hospital room, filled with the soft beeping of machines and warm sunlight streaming through a window, a woman held two newborns in her arms.
"I'm so happy, dear," she whispered, eyes filled with tears.
"Me too," said her husband, smiling down at the twins swaddled in soft blue blankets. "Thank you—for this joy."
"What should we name them?" he asked.
She looked at the babies with loving eyes. "The elder brother... let's name him Rio. And the younger... Sai."
As she spoke their names, a distant shiver passed through the aether. Somewhere beyond comprehension, the souls of Kaisal Vol Nava and Rainhart von Haliohart stirred—no longer enemies, no longer warriors. Now, brothers.
They had no memory of their past lives.
But fate did.
Thus began the story of Rio and Sai Narasuki—twins born into a peaceful era, yet bound by an ancient destiny that would not rest. The Demon King who forgot the end. The Hero who remembered the beginning. Their journey, their love, and their legacy was only just beginning.