A Flawed World

  Rico’s lips swayed—sometimes to the right, sometimes to the left. His head rested on the grass, gently moving with the northeast summer breeze.

  The sun bled into the horizon as the sunset crept in, painting the sky in hues of fading crimson. Above, the stars—silent witnesses to the world’s tale—began to emerge.

  “Where did everything go wrong?” His voice barely carried over the wind. “The universe, the stars… This road is too long. Nothing like I had dreamt. I guess I wasn’t enough in the end.” His words drifted, as if hoping the ghosts of the dead would listen.

  Then, a cry rang out—raw with guilt, heavy with despair.

  “It’s starting,” he murmured.

  Darkness swallowed the last embers of sunlight, and the wind turned cold. Footsteps echoed, breaking the fragile stillness. Around him, specters stirred, their hollow eyes fixed upon his pristine body.

  ‘The dead walk.’

  With that thought, the specters lunged, drawn to the warmth of his flesh, to the life that defied their eternal stillness.

  But death had its own will.

  With a snap of his fingers, they burned. Flames devoured them, their shrieks vanishing into the night. And when the last of their memories flickered out, nothing remained—not even the echoes of their existence. An eternal eternity, gone.

  These were the souls of the dead—some returning to nature, others defying it. With the birth of mana, the cycle of the world unraveled. The dead did not rest; they walked. And with power came glimpses of the other side.

  Gaia was flawed.

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  That was Rico’s conclusion—a rushed creation, shaped by a passionate yet inexperienced architect. Beautiful, yes. But beauty alone could not hold the weight of the world. Without a sturdy foundation, even the finest vessel would crumble before the storm.

  The Fall and Rise of Humanity

  Yet this reality was but a trial, for time held no meaning here—not within his domain.

  With the death of Dracule, the world was forced to unite under one banner. They had no choice. If they hadn’t, they would have been consumed—by the dead that wandered without rest, by the beasts that roamed the mountains and seas, and by the madness festering within their own ranks. It was a bloodbath, nothing like what Rico had hoped for. But in the end, it achieved one thing—it bound the shattered nations together.

  Nearly a century had passed since the Great Flood, the day mana became both humanity’s salvation and its curse. At first, they had only dabbled, learning from the remnants of Dracule’s teachings—his techniques, his knowledge, his power. But mana was not a gift; it was a force untamed, and the system that governed its flow ruptured.

  Mana spewed forth, saturating every corner of the world at an uncontrollable rate. Those too weak to bear its pressure crumbled, their bodies torn apart by forces beyond their limits. Others… changed. Mutations twisted their flesh, turning them into something no longer human.

  At first, the change was slow. The kings and nobles, those privileged few, hoarded the knowledge, wielding mana as a mark of their divine right. But power never stays hidden for long. It seeped into the hands of the common people, and within a few short years, the downfall of humanity had begun.

  When the flood came, the world was already broken. Those who survived fled to the last remaining sanctuary—the mountainous walls of Eden Plain. Here, within its towering peaks, the Holy Empire stood, humanity’s final bastion. From its ashes, the Kingdom of Veil was born, named after the last true king of mankind.

  Fifty years had passed. The walls still stood, and its people remained strong, hardened by the trials of a world lost to chaos. Yet they were prisoners, bound within the very walls that kept them safe. Beyond them lay a land forever changed—a world swallowed by the flood, ruled by monsters born from the madness of mana.

  Such is Gaia, the once-so-hopeful world. But beautiful it is—“that’s for sure,” Rico thought as he stood, his body having reached a realm closer to that of heroes in heaven than of mere mortals. His cultivation technique did nothing more than calm his mind; his body could absorb no more mana, nor its higher form, Origin. Yet he still wielded the Authority of a God. There he stood, bitter and burdened with problem after problem—a broken soul trapped in a realm where he could not grow stronger. The Book of Enoch was filled with gibberish he could not comprehend, no matter how many languages he mastered or how much knowledge he absorbed, as if it were saying he was not qualified. On the bright side, the Origin energy was plentiful—Gaia bestowed more than enough, keeping the chaos in check, leaving him with abundant Origin to experiment with in his own universe.

  With the death of Spector, he soared on a cloud-like structure, emerging into the heart of Eden—or, as it was now known, the Kingdom of Veil. From high above the clouds, the human cities flickered like fireflies. The Eden Plain lay enclosed by a network of man-made walls, with a grand barrier blocking the valley crafted by the father of civilization.

  “Shall we begin? We’ll definitely have some fun for once,” Rico declared, his tone laced with wild excitement. “Definitely crazy for sure!” And with that, the world went dark.

  Very dark.

  Warmth—

  Felt like home.

  “Aries,” a voice vibrated from the depths of darkness.

  “It’s almost time for you to enter this world; Mommy loves you very much,” she said.

  “…,” Rico murmured.