The library was quiet.
Not the ordinary kind of quiet.
It was the kind of silence that made every small sound feel important—the turning of a page, the faint movement of a chair, the soft ticking of an old clock hanging above the entrance.
Rows upon rows of books stretched across the enormous library.
History.
Magic.
Wars.
Kings.
Gods.
Ancient civilizations.
The shelves seemed endless.
Near the back of the library, far away from the other students, two students sat at a wooden table.
A boy and a girl.
The boy had been reading an old history book for nearly an hour.
The girl, however, had already become bored.
She rested her cheek against her palm and slowly turned another page.
“Why do history books always make everything sound so complicated?”
The boy didn’t look up.
“Because history is complicated.”
“That wasn’t an answer.”
“It was.”
She sighed.
“Fine.”
For several moments, neither spoke.
Then the girl noticed something.
A book had been placed underneath the table.
It was old.
Far older than the other books around them.
Its cover was dark and worn, with no author’s name.
No symbol.
No description.
Only two words were written across its front.
THE LAST
The girl pulled it out.
“Hey.”
The boy finally looked up.
“What?”
“I found something.”
He looked at the book.
“What’s that?”
“I don’t know.”
She placed it on the table.
Dust fell from its cover.
The boy leaned closer.
There was something strange about it.
The book didn’t look abandoned.
It looked as though someone had deliberately hidden it.
The girl opened the first page.
There was no author’s name.
No publication date.
No kingdom seal.
No record of who had written it.
Instead, a single sentence appeared in the center of the page.
The dark history of a perfect world.
The girl stared at it.
“A perfect world?”
The boy frowned.
“That sounds suspicious.”
“Suspicious?”
“History doesn’t usually call a world perfect.”
She smiled.
“Then let’s see why.”
She turned the page.
The writing continued.
And as the two students began reading, the history of their world began long before kingdoms…
Before wars…
Before gods were worshipped…
Before civilization had a name.
Before there was even a world.
PROLOGUETHE BEGINNING OF SILENCE
The world did not begin with war.
It did not begin with destruction.
It did not begin with the cries of newborn life.
It began with silence.
Complete silence.
There was no sky.
No earth.
No stars.
No light.
No darkness.
There was only the void.
And within that endless emptiness…
Someone walked.
Step.
…
Step.
…
Step.
A solitary silhouette moved through nothingness.
The being was older than time.
Older than existence itself.
Yet it walked without haste.
There was no destination.
No urgency.
It simply observed.
Far beyond the emptiness, something could be seen.
Thrones.
Countless thrones belonging to the High Rulers.
Beings who stood above almost everything that would eventually be born.
And even beneath them…
A mortal realm existed.
Five races inhabited it.
Humans.
Demons.
Dragons.
Elves.
Beasts.
They had kingdoms.
They had laws.
They had rulers.
They had civilizations.
And they believed their systems gave meaning to their existence.
The silhouette watched them all.
Silently.
For what felt like an eternity.
Then—
CRACK.
The void shattered.
Not exploded.
Not burned.
It simply fractured.
A second silhouette entered the emptiness.
Like the first, it said nothing.
It walked across the broken void.
Step after step.
Until it reached the first being.
The second being sat down.
The first remained standing for a moment.
Then, without a word, it produced a cup filled with a strange blue liquid.
It handed the drink to the newcomer.
The second being accepted it.
Only then did the first being sit.
For a while…
Neither spoke.
The second being slowly drank.
The first poured himself another drink.
His cup contained a yellow liquid.
The silence returned.
Eventually, the second being looked toward the distant mortal realm.
“Every system…
whether mortal or immortal…
has fallen beneath corrupt laws and rules.”
His voice was calm.
Almost thoughtful.
“I wonder if they can ever achieve perfection again.”
The first being continued drinking.
“I doubt it.”
A pause.
“Very highly.”
His eyes remained fixed upon the distant realm.
“Even the High Rulers—the most powerful beings anyone has ever witnessed—may no longer be capable of attaining perfection.”
The second being remained silent.
Then he asked:
“Do you think someone will turn the system around?”
The first being did not answer immediately.
For a long time, there was only silence.
Then—
“No one can.”
The second being looked toward him.
The first continued.
“Well…
perhaps not anyone.”
His gaze shifted.
“But you can.”
Silence.
“You could create a perfect world.”
The second being lowered his cup.
“Are you going to do it yourself?”
A brief pause.
“Or send a subject?”
The first being’s expression could not be seen clearly.
The second being looked toward the mortal realm again.
“I have already seen a perfect world.”
His voice became quieter.
“I don’t need to create another one.”
He raised the blue drink again.
“I only need to make a small turn in human society.”
The first being watched him.
“And then?”
The second being answered:
“Then he will awaken.”
A pause.
“Erebus will continue after my return.”
The first being said nothing.
Neither did the second.
They simply sat together within the endless void.
Two silhouettes.
Two ancient beings.
Two cups.
One yellow.
One blue.
And somewhere beyond them…
the mortal world continued living.
Unaware.
Unprepared.
Waiting.
The first being finally spoke.
“So then…”
His voice echoed through the empty void.
“The calamity shall begin from this era.”
The second being looked toward the distant world.
“Yes.”
He took another drink.
“And history will remember this calamity as the longest anyone has ever witnessed.”
Silence followed.
The two beings continued watching.
Neither moved.
Neither explained.
Neither revealed their names.
Not yet.
But many years later…
the world would give this history a name.
A name that would survive kingdoms.
Survive gods.
Survive wars.
Survive the collapse of civilizations.
A name that would eventually become synonymous with the darkest history ever recorded.
And later…
they would call it—
Back in the library, the boy slowly turned the page.
His expression had changed.
The girl leaned closer.
Neither of them spoke.
For the first time since opening the book…
they weren’t bored.
They were curious.
Very curious.
The girl whispered:
“What kind of history is this?”
The boy stared at the next page.
“I don’t know.”
He turned it.
And together…
they continued reading.