The year 16 After Amri (A.A)

The Second World

Once upon a time, there was a mountain on the second world which was so big nobody could see its end. The top of the mountain was buried in the clouds and a thick fog surrounded the entire mountain and blocked the sun from ever reaching its surface. The only thing you could hear near it was the roar of wild beasts monsters as they hunted their prey. For a thousand years, no human was brave enough to approach the mountain. Yet, at this late hour, three men sped across the very top of this mountain.

Two of them were clad in red armor and rode an Altai horse whereas one was clad in brown armor and rode an Ardennes horse between the other two. Their clothes were tattered and dusty. Their lips were dry and cracked. Yet, they ran increasingly faster.

The rider by the left looked at the rider at the center. "Leader, they will catch up with us soon, what should we do?" He glanced over his left shoulder.

Although they were all masked their eyes were visible. The leader was either blind or he chose to ride with his eyes closed. The rider by the right had his iris shaped into a sword. And while the rider by the left had normal-looking human eyes, his eyes glowed in the dark as a cat's would.

The leader sighed softly. "I have decided to use that Bend. It will not be completed till the sunset." He pointed at a nearby cave. "Can you protect that cave from Ururu until I'm done?"

"We will, Leader," they answered in unison and without hesitation.

Once they reached the cave, Leader went inside and they stood at the entrance. They would stand guard until their last breath.

An hour later, three men suddenly appeared in front of the cave. They appeared to be in black robes like the cultists of the first dawn, but upon closer inspection, their clothes weren't black. It was their sclera and iris that were pitch black, so black that it made their clothes and everything around them appeared black.

For several seconds the two sides only stared at each other like a lion and a tiger. Then one of the black-eyed men addressed the men standing in front of the cave.

"You have run for ten years," he said in disgust. "So you decided to stop running, eh? Hmm, I don't want to know why. The fact that you stop at this hour and the fact that you'll all die today was all stated by his majesty the Lord King."

That was the last exchange between the two sides before they attacked each other.

The black-eyed clapped their hands and called several incantations in quick succession, creating a black laser from their eyes. They pointed at the cave and, as if responding to their gesture, the black laser attacked.

On the other hand, the two men guarding the cave changed to a battle stance. The sword-eyed put both hands in his eyes and pulled a light sword. The two swords turned into steel. He raised them and blocked the lasers.

The cat-eyed created a fireball. He called an enchantment and the fireball burned brighter. It replicated into several balls of flames that burned even brighter than the original. In a practiced manner, he let the balls cycled around him. Then he pointed at the black-eyed men and the fireballs attacked them.

The battle continued for a long time. All the beasts that inhabited the mountain were slaughtered and the few left were chased out of their homes by the fires of the battle. The mountain was flattened as if it was never there.

Only one man survived it. His name was Uznu Ururu. The King of the second world, King Dul'Ururu, sent for him.

Several days later when Uznu woke up, he told the King about a sword that was left behind by their enemies. And when he was asked why he didn't bring the sword.

"I tried," Uznu complained. "But when I reached out it turned into a book. A small book."

The King urged him to continue.

"I tried to take the book," Uznu added. "But it glowed and showed me writings made in blood. A dark voice murmured the lines like a devil's verse." Uznu fell silent and looked at the ground as if debating on his next words. "It... disappears."

After this event, Uznu secluded himself in meditation, attempting to understand what happened on that day to the 'small book'.

Although Uznu was forgotten, the story of the small book remained in the hearts of the people. Some called it a book, others a sword, but the majority called it Book-sword. The story continued for several lifetimes. Many who lived in that age were now gone, but the story of the Book-sword still lived.

At long last, Uznu Ururu came out of meditation.