When Magnus’s old body dissolved and his soul transferred into his new body, every drop of power that slumbered within him as well as all of his hidden potential unleashed its wrath upon the world all at once. A ripple spread across the Aether, reverberating across the roots of Yggdrasil and travelling to the edges of the world, alerting to some that something powerful had awakened. The same echoes as five years ago.

In Gwynveria, the saint of the church, the all-seeing one, the blind oracle, rose up from her seat among the council, walking to the edges of the room. The council turned to her, uncertain of why she suddenly stood up. To her all the sounds in the room had been drowned out. She felt it. In the far distance, but within the kingdom, that a new king had risen from the ashes of a thousand souls. Year ago she had felt it - impending doom. It appeared and disappeared instantaneously, but now it had appeared again. Her fingers tapped the window, as if she was staring outside.

“Summon the Silent Brothers,” she commanded.

To Oceania, under the leaves and atop the branches of Yggdrasil, the Witch of Blue, steadily stood up from her haven. She reached out into the air, peering across the Aether as the roots alerted her to the sudden changes. The temperature rose as she stood up, the influence of her magic left the air as it returned to her body. She had felt this kind of magic before, but only once. It was different from the way she “sensed” most magic. It was more… pure for lack of a better word. To her, the study of magic and the exploration of it was the most important thing to her. And now, another great magic had shook the foundations of the Aether, and she was interested to see what kind of monster the world had created now.

In Dragonfall, in a forest near the palace, the king woke up from his deep meditation under a waterfall. He grabbed his spear, sensing impending danger in the distance, very far distance. Yet even from there, he could sense that something was amiss. It was the same as five years ago, only he had chosen to ignore it as it had completely disappeared. It was slightly weaker now, strangely enough.

“Guards,” he called out loudly.

Out of the bushes, several soldiers rushed over quickly to heed their master’s summons.

“Prepare me for a visit to the dragons,” the king commanded.

In Visereal, atop his lonely throne, a young man stood up. Whenever he was lost in thought, he would space out and think. Yet something had brought him out of his deep thoughts, forcing him back to reality. The throne resonated, as if it woke up along with the young man. As he opened his eyes and his peerless black eyes stared off outside the castle windows. He felt it. He felt him. That very same power. He grabbed his katana, walking outside steadily. As he walked outside the sun revealed his very elegant and stern face. Five years ago, he had made a mistake. And now his mistake was coming back to haunt him.

“Old friend, I was wondering where you went…” he whispered.

In the City of Glass, among the trees and leaves elves carried on with their daily lives. Yet in that split second, all of them felt it. The children began crying and the elderly suddenly stood up. The sound of heavy footsteps suddenly began marching towards the castle, led by the wisest and most powerful sorcerers. They all knelt down in the face of their king.

“My king... he has returned,” the head of the sorcerers announced.

The king was standing by the window, staring outside.

“The Abysswalker has returned,” the king whispered.

Whispers crawled across the palace air.

The elvish lord was there when the demons ruled the lands and he was there to witness their great collapse. But never in his wildest dreams had he expected to see the return of a demon lord.

At the edge of the world, towards the bottomless cliffs and the eternal void, the primordial dragons rested. They were the beings that had existed since the beginning, and they would be there until the very end. Their sole purpose, to balance and watch over the world as its guardians. For thousands of years they had watched, and thousands of years they had waited. In every age, there were great heroes. Elves, dwarves, humans, orcs. Many whose stories would be forgotten in the passage of time, many whose deeds will be forgotten in the shadow of greater ones, some whose sacrifices will forever be buried for the sake of peace and prosperity.

But the dragons never forget. No story will ever be lost, and no passage ever erased. For they watched until the bitter end, and this was no different. And now, all of the dragons turned their heads in anticipation of the coming calamity. Something had ripped its way from within the ashes of time, and now it was time to watch closely.

The howling of the primordial dragons rippled across the bottomless chasms, the eternal void. All in response to the return of the last demon lord.