"Magic is everything. Without magic, you are nothing but an empty shell given life."
Those words are taken from a holy verse of the Sanctus scripture.
But in Etherlion, a world overflowing with magical races and creatures, for what purpose was that verse created?
"Magic is everything. Without magic, you are nothing but an empty shell given life. And those without magic—the Unmagic—are destined only to scratch the soil and plant seeds, a fate befitting the arrogance they once held at the end of their age of glory."
That is the full version of the verse.
From those words, a dogma was born—
and from that dogma, suffering followed.
Etherlion—a land inhabited by six races: Angel, Demon, Elf, Dwarf, Beastskin, and Human.
(And there are two kinds of Human: the Magician, and the Unmagic.)
All of them united under that verse, condemning the Unmagic.
Even Humans themselves refused to defend them—not a single one.
Day after day, month after month, year after year,
there was never a time without the sight of the Unmagic being oppressed.
They were spat on, trampled, traded, enslaved, assaulted, scapegoated.
They never once knew peace—only death awaited their gaze.
And all of it stemmed from a sacred verse, whose true meaning—whose true story—no one truly knows.
Some theories claim that long ago, the Unmagic were obsessed with power, crafting weapons without magic, and refusing to bow before the gods.
Which led to their downfall, struck by divine punishment.
It's said they bowed only to one being—
the Creator, the true god who forged the universe itself.
Because think:
if the Creator can make all that exists,
why must there be many versions, when one alone should be enough?
Many believed them mad, searching for an answer that never existed.
And it is for that reason they were persecuted—because they defied the teachings of Sanctus.
---
Hundreds of years passed, and finally, the patience of the races reached its limit.
They gathered, discussed, and decided: what should be done with the Unmagic?
And they all agreed upon a single option—one that would change history, and change everything.
They decided to exile them to the other side of the world.
The Unmagic Realm.
A mirror of Etherlion's Magic Realm, except without mana.
Even the animals there were mundane, lacking magical essence.
None ever wanted to set foot there—it was considered worthless, with no mana flowing through it.
A foolish belief, for treasures could have been found there—truly, is that not so?
And those treasures would be used by the Unmagic, just as their ancestors once did, drunk with ambition.
---
Once the decision was sealed, the Unmagic were rounded up, shackled, ripped from their families.
Tens—hundreds of thousands of them, taken at once.
Death awaited anyone who resisted.
Within the ships, only emptiness remained—
even their eyes no longer reflected life.
Upon arrival at the Unmagic Realm, they were unloaded without supplies, without aid, without farewell.
Left across the lands—north, south, east, west.
The satisfied looks and cruel laughter of the Magic Races slowly faded along the shore.
Most would think:
— "So… this is the end…?"
— "Why… why did this happen to me? What have we done wrong?"
— "I don't want to die… then why does death always approach?"
— "Why is there no hope for us? Are we truly this worthless?"
Despair—
that is all they knew.
But is this truly their end?
The answer:
Of course not.
Will they rise?
The answer:
Without doubt.
From despair, a spark of vengeance ignited within their eyes—
a spark that would grow, one day becoming a flame that burns the world.
They rose from sorrow, no longer willing to await death.
They would forge their own history.
Their own civilization.
No matter how many centuries it takes.
With time, with discovery, with war—
they would do whatever must be done.
From earth, they would build towers that pierced the skies.
From knowledge, they would forge weapons.
From effort, they would build a civilization.
From trials, they would carve their legacy.
While the Magic Races race endlessly to decide who is the greatest, the strongest, the most worthy ruler…
Behind the starting line of that race, one nation was already poised to claim victory.
The nation they oppressed.
The nation they cast aside.
The nation they crushed.
The Unmagic—who now call themselves Humanity—
are ready to end the race with their own shadow upon the world.
Will they seek revenge?
Will history repeat?
The answer lies with them.
For the path of this story
can only be chosen
by the Unmagic.