The 13th of Ora in the Year 659 of the First Era (F.E.)
The ancient tree stood untouched amidst the carnage of the battlefield, a solitary sentinel amid the chaos of war. Its dark, gnarled branches stretched wide, sheltering clusters of golden fruit that glistened in the sunlight like captured stars. Beneath its protective canopy, the earth was soaked with blood, thick rivers running through the valleys of trampled grass and bodies piled in grotesque heaps. Hundreds of corpses lay strewn about, locked forever in the final moments of their desperate struggle. Yet, not a single drop of blood marred the tree’s rich bark. No scar from the violence had sullied its roots or disturbed the treasure it bore.
At the base of the tree, a lone figure rested against its trunk. From a distance, he appeared to be a slumbering man, exhausted from toil. But closer inspection revealed the pallor of his skin, the stillness of his chest, and the rigid posture of death. This was no peaceful rest; this was the eternal sleep of a warrior who had fought to his last breath, defending the sacred tree against the demonic legion that had sought to defile it.
For five days, the corpse remained unspoiled, as though the world itself had chosen to preserve the fallen hero. Even as the summer sun blazed, his body did not decay, nor did the scavengers of the battlefield dare disturb him. Death had claimed him, but not fully.
As the sun rose on the fifth day, its light spilled over the distant mountains, casting long shadows across the field. A soft breeze stirred the air, sweeping across the landscape in a ripple that seemed to touch only the warrior’s brethren. But this gust did not linger long among their corpses; its purpose lay ahead.
The breeze reached the warrior, stirring his flame-red hair, matted with dried blood. It rustled the edge of his cloak and caressed his face—a pale visage frozen in death. Then, with a faint whisper, like a breath from the High Father, the wind entered his lungs. His chest rose. A shudder passed through his body. And life—impossible, miraculous—returned to the fallen warrior.
****
Alexander awoke with a start, warmth surging through his chest as though the air itself had poured life back into him. His breath came quickly, shallow at first, until it slowed and steadied. The scent of wildflowers filled his nostrils—oddly out of place for a scene so steeped in death. Above him, a vast canopy of golden leaves swayed gently, sunlight filtering through them in streams of gold, dappling his skin with warmth.
Blinking against the brightness, he pushed himself up into a seated position. The ground was firm beneath him, and as his eyes adjusted, he took in his surroundings. The clearing was small, no more than twenty feet in diameter, perfectly encircling the ancient tree. Beyond the perimeter, the scene was one of grim devastation: bodies littered the ground, twisted and monstrous. Most wore black, chitinous armor, cracked and broken. They were demons, their faces distorted into snarls of fury, even in death. Scattered among them, like fallen titans, were the bodies of towering warriors—pale-skinned, hulking figures that stood in stark contrast to the demonic horde.
Their fur cloaks and crude iron weapons, still gripped tightly in their hands, gave them an unmistakably primal appearance. They reminded Alexander of ancient Earth’s vikings—men who lived and died by the sword. Yet these warriors were different, their alabaster skin and unnatural size hinting at a far more mystical origin.
His gaze dropped to his hands, and his breath caught. His fingers were thicker, calloused, stained with blood. Strange, intricate runes snaked up his muscular forearms, glowing faintly in the golden light. He raised a hand to his face and felt the coarse hair of a long, braided beard. His beard. The sensation was foreign yet familiar, like a forgotten memory.
He stood, towering above the ground with an unnatural sense of strength. His legs felt sturdy, powerful, and his movements, though graceful, carried the weight of immense force. As he rose, his eyes fell once more on the tree, its branches heavy with golden apples. The sight stirred something deep within him, an insatiable curiosity. Slowly, he reached for the nearest apple, feeling its dense weight in his hand. The golden skin shimmered in the sunlight.
“Is this what they were protecting?” he murmured, his voice deep and resonant, vibrating with unfamiliar power.
He bit into the apple, and its flesh burst with an indescribable sweetness, flooding his senses. The taste was unlike anything he had ever experienced, rich and otherworldly. In moments, the apple was gone, leaving only a core in his hand. Then, without warning, memories surged through his mind—a torrent of images, thoughts, and emotions crashing into him at once.
The destruction of Earth. Billions of lives extinguished in an instant. His uncle—Keith Pryor, the man who had raised him, who had built this world—was gone.
Sorrow welled within him, too vast to contain. Tears streamed down his face as the weight of what had been lost finally pressed upon his shoulders. The people of Earth, the life he had known—it was all gone. A distant memory, lost to the vastness of this new reality.
For a long time, he stood there, grief threatening to consume him. He wept for the fallen, for his uncle, for a world that no longer existed. Yet beneath the sorrow, one thought pushed through, steadying him: I survived. We survived.
Despite everything, two hundred million people had been saved. Thanks to his uncle’s genius, they had a chance—no matter how strange or foreign this new existence might be. He was still here, still breathing. And as the heavy reality of it all settled in, a flicker of resolve sparked within him.
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“I think, therefore I am,” he muttered, the profound words grounding him.
He wiped his tears and turned to the tree, its golden leaves swaying gently, as if in acknowledgment. His path had been set, not by choice but by necessity. He would not falter. If he had the power to protect what remained of humanity, he would wield it without hesitation.
His hand curled around the haft of the massive iron hammer at his side. The weapon felt familiar, as though it had always been a part of him. He lifted it easily, despite its immense weight, marveling at the intricate runes carved into its head—symbols of duty, strength, and protection.
With renewed focus, Alexander mentally summoned his character sheet.
[CHARACTER INFORMATION]
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Name: Arakos (Alexander)
Race: Jotun
Tier: Divine IV (Greater God)
Domain: Duty
Title(s): Patron of Man, the Shield
Pantheon: N/A
Faith: N/A
—————————
The High Father’s cryptic words began to make more sense as Alexander reviewed the shocking information displayed before him. Not only was he a god, but the High God Arakos.
Though his knowledge of Legacy of Steel’s lore wasn’t as deep as some other senior employees, Alexander had a good grasp of Amuran’s basic mythology and political landscape. Arakos—The Shield—was Amuran’s version of the Norse god Thor. Unlike other high gods who mingled in mortal affairs, Arakos was a martial god, singular in his purpose: to defend mankind and Amuran from all threats.
Alexander spent several minutes reviewing his new identity. Unlike most games, Legacy of Steel Online was designed to be as realistic and immersive as possible, offering players minimal guidance. Power and knowledge were earned, not given. In Alexander’s case, it meant he would likely have to figure out the nuances of godhood on his own.
Though his character sheet gave him insight into his divine identity, it offered little information about his current situation. In the game, players would typically receive a tutorial after character creation, briefing them on the world’s current state and their starting location. Alexander had gotten none of that. Thankfully, the player interface provided basic information, such as the date, location, and quests.
Hoping to orient himself, Alexander summoned the interface.
[INTERFACE]
———————
Date: 13th of Ora in the Year 659 of the First Era (F.E.)
Location: Varyngard, Northern Aryngar
Quest(s): Into the Fire I
———————
“How is that possible?” Alexander muttered in confusion.
Legacy of Steel Online was supposed to take place in the Third Era, during the zenith of the Althenian Empire in the year 2012 under the rule of Emperor Althenius II. Yet here he was, in the First Era, well over a thousand years prior.
Trying to make sense of it, Alexander focused on his active quest Into the Fire I and willed it to display its details.
[QUEST]
——————
Into the Fire I: Having only recently discovered the loss of your home world and the magnitude of your new identity, you now find yourself thrown far into the past. Yet, the past holds the key to the future, and time purchased is a gift more valuable than any other commodity. Your past actions shape humanity’s future.
Life cannot exist without sacrifice…
— Requirements: N/A
———————
He reread the description, desperate for hidden details or clues, but only gleaning that his actions in the past were crucial to saving humanity’s future. He was alone, with less than 1,500 years to save humanity. Though it seemed like a long time, Alexander knew better. Amuran’s history was full of cataclysms, narrowly averted by Arakos and the other gods.
The High Father’s words echoed in his mind: “A hard path with no certain end.” The past would repeat itself, but he could change the results. Humanity’s future was uncertain, and only he had the power to shape it—whether for good or ill.
Shoving aside the shock of yet another world-shifting revelation, Alexander steeled himself, directing his gaze back to the tree and the remarkable apples it bore. Apples that he, alongside a legion of Jotun warriors, had seemingly fought to their last breath to defend from the demonic creatures now lying dead in the field beyond.
As Alexander focused intently on the apples, he searched for a clue to their significance. But nothing revealed itself; they appeared, for all intents and purposes, to be just that—apples. Yet, Alexander refused to accept that. He knew there was something more, something beyond their unique color. After all, they had restored his memories after waking from what seemed like death itself.
A thought dawned on him then, simple yet illuminating. In the lore of Legacy of Steel, the gods were not mere figureheads—they were truly divine, capable of extraordinary feats, especially the high gods. They could bestow blessings, heal the gravest of wounds, grant boons of immense power, and even claim the souls of the dead. If he were truly to embrace his role as a god, he needed to start thinking like one.
With narrowed eyes, Alexander focused harder on the apple. He envisioned the knowledge hidden within it flowing directly into his mind. A moment later, he nearly blinked in surprise as a system notification appeared, confirming his effort had succeeded.
Congratulations! You have created the ability [DIVINE GAZE].
[Divine Gaze] is a Divine-tier ability that grants the user near-omniscient understanding and information regarding an object or being.
Note: This ability does not work against divine beings of the same tier or higher.
A grin spread across Alexander’s face as the first tangible proof of his new godhood surfaced. His smile widened as the secrets of the giant tree and its golden apples unfolded before him.
[TREE OF HEALING]
This tree was planted by the Titan Lord Orias before his departure from Amuran. It is a wellspring of life magic. Consuming one of its apples will cure any and all spiritual, physical, or mental ailments—except for death.
Turning his gaze from the majestic Tree of Healing, Alexander surveyed the battlefield once more. Before him lay the bodies of two dozen brave and formidable warriors—warriors who had sacrificed their lives to protect this tree and, in doing so, had vanquished an entire horde of demonic creatures before falling.
Stepping toward the largest Jotun corpse, Alexander—no, Arakos—made a decision. The limits of his power needed to be tested. And what better challenge for a god than a battle with death itself?