In the far reaches of the Aetherion Universe, beyond the endless void, lies a small planet known as Nerath—a world billions of kilometers away from Riven.
The two are bound not by distance, but by an ancient teleportation circle, carved by civilizations long erased from history.
Nerath's soil shimmers with a dark blue hue, and cold winds whisper across its silent plains. The air is crisp, the weather calm—almost too calm, as if the world itself is holding its breath.
Years ago, a calamity struck Riven: the fall of the Demonic Magic Sphere, an artifact so vile it turned everything within five kilometers into twisted, demonic forms—stone, soil, metal, flesh—nothing escaped its corruption.
No blade could cut it. No spell could bind it.
So humanity did the only thing left—they exiled it.
The sphere was transported to Nerath, where an enormous circular city was built around it. The city was divided into four sectors—Area 1 to Area 4—each layer standing as a wall between mankind and madness.
At the very center, in Area 1, the sphere was sealed beneath eternal watch. Only the Drayns—warriors born without the gift of magic—were allowed there. They were trained to master magical weapons, their steel serving as the only barrier between chaos and survival.
Beyond them lived their families—safe, yet never free from the fear of what slept at the heart of their world.
And in the outermost ring, Area 4, resided the Arcanists—the unseen rulers who governed the city and studied the darkness they had trapped.
Yet even in silence, evil dreams.
And some whispers say… the sphere is no longer asleep.