The Kingdom of Abyssara—an empire born from darkness, shaped by the abyss itself.
One of the strongest in the world, feared and respected in equal measure. The most renowned nation of the North, and the most ancient of them all. Its existence stretches back to the very beginning, to a time when the world itself had barely taken form. A land so vast it could almost be mistaken for a continent.
And yet… despite being the strongest in the North, despite standing among the greatest powers in the world, Abyssara did not fully control its own territory. The reason for this was far too complex to explain in just a few words.
In this world, as told in the legends of Abyssal Hope, humans are not the only intelligent beings to walk the land. There are others. Monsters. Mythical creatures. Countless entities and mythical creatures that exist beyond human understanding, beings whose strength surpasses ordinary humans to an unimaginable degree—entities capable of destroying entire hordes in an instant, as if they were nothing more than dust.
To stand against such beings, humans must awaken something buried deep within themselves—the Inner Core. A hidden power, a force capable of rivaling… even surpassing these creatures.
But awakening it is not granted to everyone. Only those who endure certain trials—trials that test not just strength but existence itself—are deemed worthy. This power can grant everything: strength, authority, purpose. And yet, it carries an equal risk. In the process of gaining everything, one may also lose everything.
For some individuals… even facing those trials is impossible.
One of them is Abyrion Arfen, the future emperor of Abyssara, the only son of Emperor Abyrion Kmal—a man of overwhelming might, whose strength extended beyond politics into the very core of his physical being. If measured upon the sacred Knight's Scale of Pride, he would stand as "Guardian of the Land"—a title so honorable only one person in the kingdom could hold it. Yet even such a title would feel insufficient for a ruler of his magnitude, almost like an insult in comparison to his presence.
But while the father stood at the peak… the son existed at the edge of despair.
Abyrion Arfen, the prince of Abyssara, destined to inherit the empire, was known by another name. Not a title of honor, but a cruel nickname whispered by the very people he was meant to rule: "The Moving Illness." Not born of hatred, but of truth.
Arfen suffered from an unknown disease—a condition so mysterious that no scholar, physician, or mage in the empire—or beyond it—could identify or cure.
He had lived with it for as long as he could remember, since the moment he gained awareness of the world around him.
Now, at twenty-three, he had spent nearly his entire life confined within the castle walls. To others, it was a palace of luxury. To him… it was a prison. No—it was hell. His body was frail and lifeless, his skin pale as though drained of all warmth. He could not even walk like a normal person. Every second, the illness consumed him, slowly and relentlessly. Even the simplest acts—eating, standing, moving—were a struggle. At times, he could not consume more than a single slice of bread.
Hope… he had lost long ago. Life no longer held meaning. Each day was not lived—it was endured. He did not wait for the future. He waited for the end.
And yet, there was something he still held onto, small but precious. Stories. Tales of the outside world. Books filled with lands, people, and adventures beyond the castle walls. A world he had never seen… yet longed to experience. He wanted to walk those lands. To breathe that air. To live.
But fate had decided otherwise from the very start. Dreaming was the only freedom he had.
But strangely, that did not hurt anymore. He understood that such a life was never meant for him. To wish for it would only bring pain. So he stopped.
The only thing that still pained him was this: he could do nothing. Nothing for his kingdom. Nothing for his people. Nothing for his father.
And his father… was slowly losing himself. For years—nearly half his life—Emperor Abrion Kmal had done everything in his to save his only son, the future of the empire, the last gift left by his beloved wife who had lot her breath giving birth to Arfen. Her final wish was simple: that their child would grow into a great man, a ruler who would care for his people, just as she had hoped, just as his father had.
A promise was made. And now… it felt impossible to fulfill. That truth was more painful than any wound. In the end, all the emperor could do was protect what remained within his control—keeping the kingdom from falling apart.
To do that, he had to step into the depths of politics.
No matter how sick Arfen was, he was still a prince. Not just any prince—the prince of Abyssara.
The Adyrion family held unmatched influence across the North, and forming a connection with them meant gaining power beyond measure. Nations came forward, offering resources, knowledge, alliances, even family ties.
In politics, relationships are weapons—powerful ones. And to wield them, people were willing to sacrifice almost anything, even their own families. Marriage proposals flooded in from nobles and royal families alike, each a gamble. A calculated risk—either forming a strong alliance or gaining something far greater.
And then, among all the offers, something unexpected appeared: a single letter. A letter from someone the emperor knew well. Not as a friend, nor as an enemy, but as an equal.
A letter from another monarch, the sovereign of the Eastern Empire—Emperor Shefan Caelvion of Luminara.