By Anonymous, Grimes, IA
PrologeNever before had he been defeated. He had killed many immortal challengers, but this time only by a mere mortal. How, he had only just begun to figure out. He, Vol’kin, god of magic, had been tricked. This, this… mortal Nysania, had tricked him into storing all his power into his beloved sword, Yeronia; last used ten thousand years ago when he was mortal; then while he was recovering, she stole it and amplified her magic into something monstrous. Stronger than even a god, she had defeated him with one spell, a gigantic burst of magic that will never again be equaled.
“So, Vol’kin,” the mocking tones in her voice only made his anger grow, “are you ready to die?”
“I will give in when I pry Yeronia from your cold, dead hands.”
“Such anger. Relax, you will always be remembered. BY NO ONE!”
A cold laugh came from the woman, no the goddess, who was mad with power.
“Do not worry. I will take care of the magic that you love. Yeronia will always stay in the hand of the only one to defeat Vol’kin, the god of magic.”
And with that Nysania raised Yeronia, the sword of the magic god, and beheaded him. Golden ichor ran from the stump of his neck, dissolving the intricate pattern on the floor. Nysania cackled, but then stopped. Soon she was screaming as a white light, brighter than one million suns, surrounded her. As god-like energy flowed through her, Nysania soon realized that she had had accomplished her life’s goal, become the one most powerful immortal to ever exist, and to rule over the only domain that can defeat all the others magic
Illthis, his name inspires terror. The entire world fears him. But this was always the truth. Illthis was once a great emperor of Urusu, death found him in the Battle of Ironia. He was buried in a grave decorated and this grave is guarded at all times. All of this was 300 years old.
Two hundred years pass and the world has all but gone back to the way things should be.