“All know the story of our beloved world Ina and thus even the youngest shall learn of it. So be still, quiet now with listening ears so you may know and memorize in your heart the truest tale.

“Long ago, the gods of old lived in harmony. They were siblings, brothers and a sister, created by their mother, Ina. Though they shared the same blood and powers, they were nothing alike. With each having their own personality, imagination and ideals, they were unique as Ina intended. Yet only they and Ina existed in the old world, the Time of Gods.

“One day Mother Ina asked her children, ‘Would you help me create a utopia where your creations can roam free, using myself as their home? I shall let you each have your own children, but only one kind each to be fair.’

“The gods wholeheartedly agreed, eager to create like their mother, to no longer be only in the company of their family. And so Mother Ina granted the sacred power of creation to her children.

“The gods got to work immediately, excited by their newfound powers. They began carefully planning their creations down to the finest details, from their appearance, culture, beliefs, to even their specialties. The gods’ excitement grew as they became satisfied with their plans, eager for their perfect creations just as Ina had created them. Once absolutely certain, they each created a unique creation of their own, giving birth to the races we know today:

“Human, Elf, Dwarf, Beastman, Merpeople, and Dragon. 

“The gods had made their first creations and found them perfect. With pride they watched their creations flourish, increasing in numbers and living as designed. Filled with pride only a parent could know, the gods experienced what only Mother Ina had known, loving their creations dearly. 

“As the races established themselves Mother Ina filled the world with a variety of wondrous creatures from the humblest slimes to the mysterious spirits to cover her surface. Pleased with her creations and her children’s children, Mother Ina went to sleep, allowing the creatures to thrive upon her surface, thus truly becoming the World. 

“Yet there was one god who didn’t create, the youngest. Instead of taking up Mother Ina’s offer, he grew jealous and bitter of his siblings’ creations. He wanted their creations to disappear, to die, to suffer. Corrupted by jealousy at how unique and beautiful his siblings’ creations were, he was unable to fathom his own race. Despite hearing his mother’s gentle encouragement he took it as insults. He hated how unfair it was, that while he toiled the others had beaten him with their wondrous variety of each race.  

“And so he declared war against his brethren and the World, his mother. He cursed them for daring to look down on him for simply being the youngest. In his rage he stole aspects from every race the other gods had made: the Humans’ tenacity and body, the Elves’ long life and gift with magic, Merpeople’s elegance, the horns of the Beastmen, the strength of Dragons, and the cunning wit of the Dwarves. Lastly he took his own eyes, black as the void just like his heart, and created his monstrous amalgamations: the Demons and the Demon Lords. 

“Thus the reign of terror of the Demons and their creator, the God of End, began. They wrecked havoc upon the world, killing everyone who crossed their path no matter how young or innocent. Blood, cruelty and revenge was their sole appetite. 

“The blood spilt that first day turned the World red and sickened Mother Ina, weakening her. The madness continued for some time, races rising up to defend themselves against the cruelty of the Demons, but most fell, unable to withstand the power of the hateful offspring of pride, envy and wrath.

“The gods worried, but were sworn not to intervene. They had agreed to let their creations resolve conflict themselves to keep things balanced and avoid discourse. However, now they feared what their intervention would do to the already painfully slumbering Ina.

“One day, the God of Humans had enough. Tired of seeing innocent blood being spilled thanks to his petty younger brother he wished to end it. Unable to directly intervene per binding oath before Ina granted them power, he created the Hero: the one salvation that would save the gods’ creations from the god turned monster. The one who would put a stop to the God of End. 

“The Hero, though physically the weakest of the Races as a Human, was gifted with mighty power, blessed by the other gods to deliver their creations. With the support of the other races, hailed as the Chosen, they challenged and slayed the God of End, thus ending the bloodshed. With their leader dead, the Demons retreated, those not slain going into hiding as their power waned with the fall of their god. 

“The war was won, but at the cost of the Hero’s life. The world celebrated the end of the bloody reign of terror, yet mourned the loss of the selfless Hero. 

“And so we tell this story to remember the Hero’s great sacrifice so that we might live in prosperity and peace. To be wary for the day the remnants of the Demons come crawling out of the shadows for revenge of their god—though some now regard them as mere myth, starved into extinction. To never forget that bitterness and jealousy can turn even a god into a savage monster, leading to their demise. 

“Yet legends say after the final battle the detestable god left behind a treasured artifact, his sole remnant. However, it was lost. Many have tried to find said treasure, but all in vain, many disappearing in their search. It is said whoever finds it will be granted their wishes and desires, blessed with a power to rival even the gods. 

“This elusive treasure is known as Time Zero, said to be an amulet brimming with power. No one is certain of its exact appearance nor where it was hidden. Some say it can be mistaken for a strange key. But maybe one day, it will reveal itself to a lucky fellow.”

“Maybe me?!” exclaimed a young brunette boy with a small red birthmark on his left cheek. In his excitement he jumped up, fists clenched, blue eyes wide and practically sparkling. He seemed ready to burst, having barely been able to contain himself from interjecting throughout the story. The other children, a group of Humans and Elves sitting still on the floor, looked at him in mild exasperation, well practiced in keeping their wonder contained for appropriate moments. 

The storyteller sitting near the fireplace, dressed in monk clothes, let out a laugh. He gently tussled the boy’s hair, smiling kindly at the not quite six year old. “Perhaps, one day. If you have the heart of a Hero and the mind of an Adventurer. Think you have the fire within you?”