The All Consuming-Self

Prologue: The Day The Sky Screamed

The Cataclysm.

The last semblance of normalcy on Earth dissolved with a final, lingering sunset.

It was October 23rd, 2049. The first tendrils of the unimaginable appeared on satellite feeds – a delicate, shimmering fracture in the upper atmosphere above the vast Pacific, initially no wider than a silken thread. Scientists, in their detached observation, labeled it a “light refraction error,” a curious anomaly. Online, however, the conspiracy forums ignited, each theory more outlandish than the last. By the stroke of midnight, that fragile line had become a jagged, weeping scar, cleaving the sky from one horizon to the other, a cosmic wound laid bare.

Then, it screamed.

Crack… Crack… Crack…

The sound, a physical force of unimaginable power, paralyzed the sprawling arteries of civilization. Glass imploded in towering skyscrapers. Birds plummeted from the heavens, their tiny hearts seizing in terror. And from that gaping tear in reality poured the Voidspawn – bioluminescent nightmares teeming with too many eyes, too many razor-sharp teeth, their alien forms dripping a viscous fluid that dissolved steel and flesh with equal, horrifying ease. These “Monsters,” as they would come to be known, swarmed across the globe like a biblical plague of locusts, tearing through the familiar world in mere hours. Armies, once symbols of indomitable strength, crumbled into dust. Nuclear fire, humanity’s ultimate deterrent, vanished uselessly into the expanding rift. Within a single, terrifying week, continents burned.

Yet, humanity, in its stubborn resilience, refused to be extinguished.

On the eighth day, the Seven Legends rose.

The First Awakeners.

In the face of utter annihilation, the very fabric of reality seemed to warp. The System, an unseen force responding to the rawest desperation, the most profound loss, the utter lack of hope, chose its champions. Among the terrified remnants of humanity, seven individuals experienced a transformation, an awakening of powers beyond comprehension. They became beacons of flickering hope – and terrifying power – in a world consumed by shadow.

Wielding abilities that defied the laws of nature, these seven figures carved a fragile, temporary peace from the chaos, a testament to the enduring spirit of humankind.

Now, twenty-three years after the Cataclysm that shattered the world, Earth is no more. It is Terra Nova – a desolate graveyard of once-proud cities and the dominion of living gods. The Awakeners, in their ascended might, rule the fractured remnants, carving out kingdoms from the ruins of the old world. Their constant, arduous struggle is to push back the encroaching darkness, to seal the ever-widening rift that bleeds the horrors of the void into their reality.

But the existence beyond the tear is not passive. It is a ravenous hunger, and the rift widens by agonizing millimeters each year, each increment vomiting forth stronger, more grotesque abominations. Mana storms, unpredictable and violent, twist once-familiar forests into labyrinthine mazes of razor-sharp thorns and sentient vines. Deep beneath the scarred surface, dungeon cores pulse like malignant hearts, birthing grounds for the void’s endless legions. And somewhere, in the fathomless dark beyond the rift, something ancient stirs – a presence so vast, so terrifying, that even the Seven Legends, in their godlike power, fear to fully acknowledge its existence.

This is no longer the world we knew.

This is a game now. A brutal survival game where the stakes are not points or prestige, but the very existence of humanity.

And the world, the ravaged Earth – Terra Nova – is the battleground.

Welcome to Terra Nova.