In the vastness of the universe, countless galaxies shine with stars of every shape and size—each a celestial masterpiece woven by the hands of the gods.
Yet among them shines a solitary miracle—favored by the divine. A place where life alone was born and continues to thrive amidst the eternal void.
This world is called Utopia—a prosperous and magical kingdom. To any first-time observer, it gleams like a jewel among the stars, a paradise where countless races live together in harmony.
Across its lands stretch vast emerald forests, alive with creatures darting through the underbrush. Beneath the surface, gems glitter as underground civilizations carve their homes in quiet diligence. Towering mountains pierce the sky, their peaks echoing with the roars of resting dragons, while birds soar freely under a sky bathed in golden sunlight.
From above, the deep blue oceans sparkle. Mermaids sing and dance upon coastal rocks, while beneath the waves, a vibrant ecosystem flourishes—glowing coral reefs sheltering countless aquatic beings. Even in the ocean's darkest depths, gentle giants drift silently, thriving where life should not be possible.
It is a world anyone would dream of living in—a realm of wonder, peace, and awe-inspiring beauty.
But this paradise is only a facade.
Behind its splendid beauty lies a buried truth—a history so steeped in blood and fire that even the strong-willed do not dare mention it.
What is now called Utopia was once a land of suffering. A place where war raged endlessly, a time now remembered only as the Age of Blood and Fire.
In the early days of the star's birth, its beauty was already defined, but it was soon scarred by constant conflict. The mighty races of Utopia clashed in brutal wars—not for survival, but for pride. Resources were only an excuse. What they truly sought was domination... and the thrill of destruction.
Where verdant lands once thrived, only craters and ash remained. Forests were consumed by fire, thick black smoke choking the skies and blotting out the sun. The oceans, once clear and life-giving, turned crimson with blood, a feeding ground for predators that had tasted flesh.
The air rang with cries of pain and desperate pleas for peace—sounds that became background music to the arrogant lords who reveled in war. And yet, despite the despair, the people continued to pray. Even if no one heard them, they still hoped.
But fate listened and decided to end this cycle.
Among all the powerful races, fate chose a humble soul—a young human from a race seen as weak and insignificant. What fate saw in him was not strength, but an unyielding will. A will stronger than any warrior's blade or mage's spell.
One fateful day, a mysterious stranger came to the boy and imparted knowledge beyond his understanding. People began to call him a saint. But instead of clinging to that power, the boy passed it on – teaching others and entrusting his role to a comrade before setting out in search of those who shared his dream of peace.
His journey was not easy. Assassins, thieves, and time itself tried to stop him. In the end, the boy could not make it and died in the darkness. But the will he ignited never died. The friend he trusted carried his will and set out, and then one after another—generation after generation, following the path of the first.
These were the Torch of Will, and their burden became a legacy.
And so it was not a single soul, but countless nameless souls, of every race, who began to rise. One by one, they joined forces to defeat the arrogant leaders and overthrow them.
In the end, the war was won not by armies, but by unity. No blood was shed, no one fell—except the tyrants who clung to power. Their final cry was not one of glory, but one of bitter humiliation, as they were defeated by their own children in a war that had no deaths.
The dark age ended.
In the aftermath of the war, the races came together—no longer as enemies, but as equals. They decided to share their knowledge and dreams rather than keep them to themselves. Together, they rebuilt from the ashes, replanted the forests, purified the skies, and created a new civilization—an era of wonders beyond anything their predecessors could have imagined.
Magic, technology, and faith blend together to create miracles:
Floating islands adorned with sacred temples, where angels and birdfolk danced in sunlit skies. A crystal palace beneath the sea, glowing with radiant gems, home to mermaids and sea creatures. An ancient tree stretching toward the heavens, its roots wrapped around a vast library guarded by elves and forest spirits.
The ruins of war became the foundation of paradise.
To honor their unity, they gave their world a new name: Utopia—the Kingdom of Happiness.
But even a kingdom of peace needs a guiding light.
The final bearer of the Torch of Will was hailed as a sage—a leader destined to guide the world into its golden age. And he did not fail. Using the wisdom of those who came before, he built a central city—surrounded by allied kingdoms and marked by unmatched progress.
It was a place where machines aided daily life, where supercomputers connected the globe, and grand observatories gazed into the cosmos beyond.
They named this kingdom Atlantis—the Kingdom of the Future.
No matter how many years pass, no matter how many thrones are inherited—Atlantis and its king remain the beacon of Utopia, and a symbol of everything this world fought to become.
Now, the kingdom is ruled by a young king, who ascended the throne at an early age following the sudden death of his predecessor. Undeterred by the burden, he remains resolute in his duty to safeguard both the kingdom and Utopia.
But peace is fragile. And fate is cruel.
From the darkest corner of the universe—far from the light of stars, as if abandoned by the gods themselves—there lay a realm cloaked in gloom, untouched and ancient, like a slumbering, incomprehensible beast.
Without warning, the fabric of space began to distort—twisting and warping unnaturally—until something pierced through it from the other side. A monstrous claw emerged, dragging itself along the rift and tearing the void open like a jagged wound in the universe itself.
The claw slowly retracted, vanishing into the shadows.
Then, a giant eye opened—cold, alien, and calculating. It stared into the universe, examining it silently. Once satisfied, the eye closed and sank back into the darkness.
An eerie stillness followed… until—
From deep within the rift, more eyes opened.
One eye. Two eyes. Thousands.
Countless lifeless, bizarre eyes of all shapes and sizes blinked open, staring out into the vast cosmos. A terrible roar echoed through the void—a howl of unrestrained ecstasy.
Writhing, twisted arms emerged—monstrous and sharp. They reached outward, seizing the edges of the rift and, with a hideous screech, began pulling at it with all their might. The rift cracked further, like shattered glass, expanding wider and wider. Space itself trembled as the monstrous presence grew stronger.
Then the arms reached inward—not to tear further, but to drag something out.
Its body.
As the creature's head pushed against the edge of reality, it was stopped by a barrier—a translucent membrane, as if the universe itself resisted its escape.
Driven mad by confinement, the creature thrashed violently. Dark tendrils pierced the membrane, tearing it open bit by bit—creating a passageway large enough for the abomination to crawl through.
And then it emerged.
A nightmarish titan stood before the rift—a form beyond understanding. Its body was a pulsating mass of flesh, crisscrossed with swollen, writhing veins, as if it were born from the nightmares of gods.
It was covered in thousands of moving eyes, endlessly scanning the cosmos in search of something—something to satiate its boundless hunger. Its endless tentacles slithered and coiled, dragging its bloated form forward, toward the shining stars.
And then—it saw what it craved: A star.
Like a predator spotting its prey, it lunged forward. The star began to crack under the pressure. Strange arms, tipped with jagged claws, reached out and dug into its radiant core—like fangs biting into soft flesh. The star's light flickered, struggling in vain.
But resistance was meaningless.
The creature's claws tore the star open, ripping it apart piece by piece.
Then, from its grotesque head, deep cracks began to form—stretching downward like the twisted bloom of a grotesque flower. As it fully opened, rows of jagged, monstrous teeth emerged from the maw. At its center was a gaping abyss—a void so dark that no light could penetrate it. It emitted strange, otherworldly noises, as though it connected directly to hell.
But it did not devour in the usual sense.
From that abyss, writhing tendrils emerged, snaking out to seize the star's remains. One by one, the fragments were dragged into the black void, consumed mercilessly—as if mocking the star's futile struggle.
But it wasn't enough.
No—it could never be enough.
The creature's hunger was eternal. It turned its attention to the nearby stars and surged forward, consuming them one by one in a ravenous frenzy.
In Utopia, a team of astronomers was observing the stars when one of them suddenly trembled in fear.
"What is this…? Is this an illusion?"
His words drew curious glances from his colleagues.
"Hey, are you okay?" one of them asked, walking over.
But the astronomer didn't respond—he just stared, paralyzed.
Then the others looked at the same screen—and they saw it.
A massive, star-devouring creature slowly appeared before their eyes.
"What is that…?" someone gasped. "Everyone, look—quickly!"
The monstrous being appeared on the main display. Its grotesque shape and actions left the team in disbelief.
"Is this thing even real?" "Maybe it's just a cosmic mirage…" "Check the system for anomalies!"
Arguments erupted. Everyone scrambled to rationalize what they were seeing.
But in their panic, no one realized that broadcasting it on the screen was their greatest mistake.
As the creature devoured another star, it suddenly stopped.
The arm crushing the star froze mid-motion. Every single eye halted its movement.
"Look—it's stopped!" someone said.
Everyone fell silent, watching the screen.
And then—all at once—the eyes shifted.
They turned toward Utopia.
A gaze that transcended time and space.
It pierced through the monitor.
It entered their minds.
Terror exploded.
One by one, the astronomers screamed—gripping their heads in agony. Some gouged out their eyes. Some killed themselves on the spot. The rest fell to the ground in convulsions, their minds shattered by the horror they had witnessed.
Those who remained tried to help the fallen—only to recoil in horror as the once-sane rose again, muttering strange, unknown languages.
"Hey! Wake up! What the hell are you saying?!"
But it was too late.
The afflicted rose like soulless puppets and began attacking those around them in a bloodthirsty frenzy.
A massacre erupted inside the observatory.
One by one, people fell—cut down by their own colleagues, now consumed by madness. A few desperately rushed to shut off the monitor, but even they were slain in the chaos.
The observatory became a slaughterhouse—a sea of blood and screams no one could hear.
And all the while, the creature slowly turned its body toward Utopia.
The motion detection radar emitted a relentless cascade of signals.
Its body coiled. Tendrils contracted. Space around it warped violently as it built momentum.
Then—
It charged.
Space shattered. The void shook. Reality bent and broke in its wake.
No stars could stop it.
No one was left to witness it.
No one—except one survivor.
He saw the creature's movements flicker across the radar screen and, trembling, hid in a dark corner. With shaking hands, he sent a final message to the leaders.
"If you hear this… please, believe me."
"What we're facing is beyond anything we've ever known."
Suddenly, the door began to rattle—the madmen had found the survivor.
"I don't have much time," the voice trembled. "No matter what happens, no matter who comes—do not turn on the screen."
"With all your prayers… whatever you do… don't look into its eyes."
As the message was sent, the final scream echoed through the transmission.
And thus, Utopia was no longer safe.
They were no longer facing a mere creature.
They were facing a disaster.
A force capable of erasing Utopia from existence.
The end of the world had begun.