Humans were not the only beings touched by the star fragment's influence. The transformation rippled through the natural world, reaching animals and plants alike.
Creatures awakened, their very biology reshaped, bodies grew larger, stronger, and swifter; claws lengthened, and fangs sharpened into deadly weapons. They became monsters in the truest sense.
These beasts tore through cities with terrifying ease, extinguishing lives day after day. Even those newly gifted with mysterious abilities found themselves powerless against the relentless onslaught.
Meanwhile, plants too underwent remarkable changes. They towered higher, their leaves a deeper, more vibrant green; their presence exuded a soothing calm. Fruits grew sweeter, and crops flourished with unprecedented speed, bringing bountiful harvests to the hands of grateful farmers.
But that was not all.
In Crymora, it was widely believed that what truly defined life was the soul, the essence capable of generating emotions: happiness, sorrow, anger, love, and hope.
Though never proven by science, this conviction endured. The soul was thought to both produce and harbor these emotions, while the body served as their vessel, responding in harmony, for body and soul were inseparable.
But the star fragment had wrought a deeper change.
The pulse of energy it unleashed shattered the delicate balance within the soul. Emotions, anger, love, hatred, no longer remained confined to the soul; they spilled forth into reality, manifesting within Crymora itself.
These living emotions were unlike any beasts or monsters before. They were more savage, more cunning, embodying a primal intelligence that made them all the more terrifying.
Thus began a new level of devastation, an unending war. Death tolls soared into the millions, lands lay in ruin, and civilizations teetered on the brink of extinction. Humanity faced the very edge of annihilation.
Yet humans did what they did best, they fought back. They hunted down these living emotions, obliterated the monsters and beasts, refusing to surrender. Crymora burned fiercely, the planet itself seeming on the verge of collapse under the weight of chaos.
But from Destruction arose Creation.
From Death blossomed Life.
Years passed in a vanishing blur.
Crymora was rebuilt anew, civilization resurrected from the ashes. Individuals gifted with abilities and powers became commonplace. Walls were erected, divisions formed, empires rose, and emperors ascended to rule. Nobles emerged, claiming their place in the new world.
Yet the war did not cease. The monsters born from normal animals endured, and the living emotions, those living manifestations of the soul, still roamed, haunting the land.
In time, names were bestowed upon these phenomena. The emotions given life came to be known as the Emovira, while the energy harnessed by people for their abilities was called Astra, a tribute to its celestial origin.
Four mighty empires now spanned the world, each commanding its own territories and wielding distinct power.
In the hierarchy of authority, the Emperor reigned supreme, followed by the Dukes, then the Marquis, the Counts, the Viscounts, and finally, the Barons.
These four empires bore the names Zarethorne, Thalvorn, Velkarin, and Vandross, ruling the West, North, South, and East respectively.
'I'm screwed, aren't I?' Ethan thought, his mind reeling as he absorbed the weight of history.
The star fragment.
The evolution of all life.
Emotions given form.
Death.
Carnage.
Humanity teetering on the brink of annihilation.
A wave of helplessness washed over him, and for a moment, Ethan felt the sting of tears. His former life had been so simple, so perfect, too perfect for the grim reality unfolding in these pages.
'Is the entity that reincarnated me punishing me for the ease of my past life?' Ethan mused with a self-deprecating smile.
A fleeting urge to pray washed over him, perhaps to fail his awakening and avoid stepping into this endless cycle of conflict.
But deep down, he knew the truth. He had never come across a novel where one was reincarnated or transmigrated and escaped the battle that inevitably followed. Reluctant or not, the fight was always waiting, pulling them in regardless of their choice or thought.
'Better to possess power and choose inaction than to be powerless and idle,' Ethan thought as he rose to his feet.
'Not that I intend to do nothing. This family I was born into won't permit it. I will gather every ounce of power I can and ascend to the pinnacle of this world, so I may live on my own terms. That's not a bad goal, is it?'
With resolve sharpening his steps, Ethan scanned the shelves for his next read. His gaze settled on a tome about the awakening he was to undergo in just a few days.
After a brief pause, he picked it up and began leafing through its pages, no need to sit this time, as the volume was far smaller than the history book he had just finished.
'So, awakening essentially unlocks one's Astra veins along with innate talents or abilities,' Ethan thought as he carefully returned the book to its place. 'It appears this world does not rely on mana or mana cores as I've encountered in other stories.'
The awakening forcibly activates dormant veins within the body, aptly named Astra veins, since they serve as reservoirs where Astra is stored.
'I should learn more about the Wargrave family,' Ethan thought as he wandered deeper into the library.
He spent several minutes poring over any volume that mentioned the Wargrave Ducal lineage.
Unconsciously, a whistle escaped him, a sound born of genuine admiration.
The Wargraves were renowned for their brutal, approach to thing; fight first, think later. Wherever the Emovira lurked, they were never far behind. Be it a monster's lair or a battlefield soaked in blood, the Wargraves thrived on conflict, living and dying by the flames of battle.
The Wargrave family was one of the prestigious Bloodline families within the Zarethorne Empire.
Upon awakening, every individual bearing the Wargrave bloodline summons a weapon unique to their very soul, a soul weapon. Unlike ordinary arms, these weapons need not be carried constantly; after use, they seamlessly return to the wielder's spirit.
Bound intrinsically to their owner's existence, these weapons cannot be stolen or sealed, and are utterly indestructible. When a Wargrave falls in battle, their soul weapon perishes alongside them.
The awakening of such a weapon signified exceptional innate talent with that particular form of combat.
But that was not all. Beyond awakening a soul-bound weapon, each Wargrave also awakened a singular elemental affinity, an element intrinsically linked to their weapon.
Lastly, there was their physique. While not as unique or extraordinary as their weapons or elemental powers, the Wargraves possessed naturally superior bodies.
Their strength and speed surpassed nearly all within their ranks, complemented by staggering stamina and resilience that set them apart on the battlefield.
'So this is why Asher never trained with any weapon. There's no way to know beforehand which weapon one would awaken. So everyone simply focuses on honing their physique first, only beginning weapon training after their awakening.' Ethan though
He had always found it odd that Asher had spent eleven years solely building muscle and endurance without ever touching a blade.
'No wonder that even after a year wasted drowning in alcohol, his body remains ridiculously fit. Truly a broken family.' Ethan thought with a sigh.
A weapon. An element. A physique. The Wargraves possessed it all.
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AUTHOR'S NOTE:
Plural of Emovira is Emovirae. In case when you start seeing Emovirae you won't flag it as a mistake.
Thanks for reading.