High above the swirling clouds, bathed in radiant golden light, stood the almighty celestial warriors, the DEVAS. Each one was a beacon of divine power, their silhouettes burning with such intensity that even the heavens seemed to bow in reverence. Their presence was overwhelming, as if the cosmos itself had turned its gaze upon them.

The DEVAS, guardians of Earth and defenders of the divine order, hovered effortlessly over the battlefield. Their energy cascaded from the heavens in brilliant waves, making the clouds part in deference to their power. As the golden light poured down, the faithful on the ground were bathed in its warmth, their wounds healed, their spirits lifted. But for the wicked, this same light seared flesh, scorched bones, and incinerated souls.

Their white robes shimmered, laced with ethereal energy, while their armor glistened with ancient runes—symbols of an age-old power long forgotten by mortals. These celestial inscriptions pulsed with the force of creation itself, each line a fragment of the universe's untold history.

From the heavens, the DEVAS' radiant light swept across the battlefield below, turning the tide of war. The souls of fallen demons, consumed by darkness, erupted in ash as divine fire obliterated their essence. What remained of the once-mighty demonic legions was reduced to nothingness, their existence wiped clean from the earth. The air, once thick with sulfur and smoke, slowly transformed, filled now with the scent of rain and the first bloom of life.

The ancient war, a millennia-long struggle between humans and demons, had reached its conclusion. The forces of light, with humanity at their side, had prevailed at last. This was no mere battle for land or power; it was a cosmic struggle for the soul of the Earth. The ancient prophecy spoke of this day—the Final Battle. A battle in which only one side would emerge victorious. And the humans, led by their celestial allies, had fought through annihilation time and again. But this time was different. This was the Endgame.

Wherever the DEVAS set foot, life flourished. Their steps turned barren wastelands into vibrant forests, and rivers of crystal-clear water sprang from the desolate earth. Flowers bloomed in their wake, fields once scorched by demonic fire now lush with green vitality. Their swords were not just weapons of destruction but also instruments of peace, bringing harmony where chaos had reigned.

But this same divine energy was a death sentence for the demonic forces. Shadows and flame, the essence of the demons, recoiled in terror as the DEVAS' light approached. The twisted forms of the Asura—dark descendants of the ancient demons—melted away, their screeching cries drowned by the roar of divine fire. For them, the mere sight of the DEVAS was an unbearable torment, their end now certain.

Yet, amidst the crumbling legions of darkness, one figure remained, defiant and unwavering. His presence alone silenced the battlefield, commanding attention and fear from all who stood against him. This was Ravana, the Demon Lord. His legend spanned realms, a being whose very name was synonymous with terror.

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Ravana stood tall, his flowing silver hair whipping in the storm conjured by the DEVAS. His crimson eyes gleamed with a malevolent intelligence, one that could pierce through any illusion, any false hope of victory. His armor was not of this world; it pulsed with forbidden energy, a fusion of ancient sorcery and forgotten technology, creating an aura of invincibility around him.

In his hand, he gripped Zanmato, the accursed blade. Forged in the depths of the underworld, this weapon had drunk the souls of a thousand fallen warriors, each death feeding its insatiable hunger. It was no mere sword—it was a living embodiment of destruction.

"RAVANA!" Shiruna, the king of the DEVAS, boomed from above, his voice shaking the heavens themselves. Towering over the battlefield, Shiruna's form shimmered with divine energy, more spirit than flesh. His wings of light, each feather a radiant lance capable of shattering mountains, spread wide across the sky. In his grasp, the Staff of Solus burned with the fury of the sun, its light bright enough to blind lesser beings. "YOUR TYRANNY ENDS TODAY!"

Shiruna's words rang out like thunder, a divine decree that the earth itself seemed to echo. "THIS SACRED EARTH SHALL BE FREE FROM YOUR WICKEDNESS!"

But Ravana was unmoved. He met Shiruna's gaze with a sneer of defiance, his crimson eyes alight with amusement. The winds howled around him, yet he remained still, his posture unshaken by the storm of divine power surrounding him.

"Ha ha ha ha ha!" His laughter echoed across the battlefield, chilling the hearts of even the bravest warriors. The DEVAS, despite their celestial might, paused at the sound of his mockery.

"You believe this will end me?" Ravana's voice was rich with sarcasm, his words sharp as blades. "Fools! Even if I fall today, the darkness will rise again. You cannot undo what centuries have built."

And with that, Ravana did the unthinkable. He drove Zanmato into his own chest, blood erupting from the wound. A collective gasp rippled through the battlefield. Even the divine warriors watched in stunned silence as Ravana's life force drained from him.

But Ravana's death was no surrender. It was a final act of defiance. As his blood spilled onto the ground, a massive magic circle, dark and foreboding, materialized beneath him. Pulsating with malevolent energy, the Resurrection Array activated—a forbidden spell known only to the gods. Ravana had sacrificed his own life to resurrect his demonic army, ensuring their rise once more.

The DEVAS, horror-struck, realized what was happening. Ravana's sacrifice would doom the world to another era of darkness. In their desperation, the celestial warriors made a fateful choice. They bestowed upon humanity the ATSURA, divine weapons of unimaginable power. Each ATSURA held the strength to reshape mountains and part seas, forged to combat the rising tide of evil that would soon return.

500 Years Later:

Humanity had flourished in the centuries since that fateful battle, guided by the teachings of the DEVAS. A new world order had risen, one founded on the mastery of elemental magic and the wielding of the sacred ATSURA. The elite warriors of DELIAN stood vigilant, humanity's last line of defense, though none had faced a true Asura in centuries.

"Ryuu! Wake up! You're going to be late!" The shout pierced through the haze of his dreams, yanking him back to reality.

Ryuu, a sixteen-year-old with bright eyes and an eager heart, bolted upright in bed. "Today's the day!" His pulse quickened at the thought.

Today was the Magic Aptitude Test, the event that could change his life forever. Students from across the nation would be tested for their magical potential, and only the strongest would earn the right to wield an ATSURA and join DELIAN, humanity's elite defenders.

(Hi, I'm Aramiya Ryuu, sixteen years old, and today's the day I've been waiting for. I've dreamed of joining DELIAN for as long as I can remember. Who wouldn't want to wield legendary weapons and protect the world?)

Outside, the sun shone brightly in the morning sky, casting long shadows over the bustling streets. But all Ryuu could think about was the test ahead. Would he have the strength to wield an ATSURA.....