When Novus Sturne thought back to it, only a sigh would emerge from his mouth, as a cascade of clear, ever-vicious memories came back to haunt him.

Gone were the days of old that he did live to the fullest. It was a peaceful tranquil life of modernity, where the world of man, while not perfect, had reached an all-new level of peace and harmony, as the progressive advancements made in science allowed this era to develop further into ever-increasing heights. Mankind had conquered almost every corner of its planet, holding an unchallenged dominion as they prepared to reach for the stars, to colonize other worlds and fill them with their own life, as well as to discover more of the endless knowledge that lied within the vast, nigh-infinite echoes of space.

However, like all good things, this one would eventually meet its end... a rather untimely, and truly undeserved one at that.

A series of portals, gateways to other worlds and dimensions long thought ago to be impossible, had left their mark upon the earth's skies, allowing an untold amount of both unseen and unknown forces to seep into the cracks that had been made on reality, as the monsters from the other worlds quickly drew their plans; with each and every one of their schemes made to beset us and oust humanity from its very throne.

There were armies of them; scores upon scores of tall, sharp-eared, humanoid creatures known simply as elves, commanded by their draconic overlords known as the dragons: massive, winged, reptilian monstrosities that breathed fire and death wherever they went. In truth, however, the true essence of the power of these invaders laid in one, singular aspect.

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'Magic', or so did these otherworldly forces call the eldritch power they tapped into with every plight they made. Even the weakest of its abominable users were capable of defying all forms of logic to their unjust advantage, allowing their forces to wreak havoc throughout their entire invasion.

However... mankind was not weak, to say the least.

Humanity fought with the help of its own fair share of weapons. Beasts of steel and weapons of war and destruction so great that they tore both the heavens and the earth asunder. For an untold amount of years did the rivers of the earth bathe in the blood and the ash of the fallen, as both sides did everything in their power to annihilate the existence of the other once and for all.

And ultimately, the indomitable human spirit would prove triumphant against the horrid magic of the otherworldly forces.

However, their victory did not come without a cost; in fact, the cost of victory had been too, very steep. Mankind had grown to deeply fear the unknown, and the war had led to countless archives of knowledges both old and new to be lost forever, which slowly caused humanity to regress back into an age of barbarism and uncivilized times; what was once an enlightened collective of knowledge seeking people, had now slowly devolved into bloodlusted savages who knew not of even the simplest inner workings of a light bulb. Not only that, but humanity would eventually lean towards the use of the very same thing that had been used by its sworn enemies who deeply sought out their destruction; mankind had begun to utilize magic for their everyday lives, which only led to their ever-regressing state to move at an even quicker pace.

In spite of this, in a both unfortunate and fortunate turn of events, Novus Sturne, a high-ranking officer of the Global Front Initiative, the foundation that humanity had built to combat the invaders, had died long before he could see the gradual curse that would befall upon his own race.

Fortunately though, fate had other plans for such a poor individual, who had been dragged into a conflict he never truly desired to be in, in the first place...