The Fifth Dynasty's Legacy

The world had always been ruled by four kings. Four men who, throughout the course of humanity, held dominion over the entire Earth. Two of them were just, believers in the Almighty, and brought peace to the world. The other two were tyrants, steeped in arrogance, defying both God and the natural order.

These tyrants, Nimrod and Nebuchadnezzar, saw themselves as gods, their empires built on cruelty and oppression. They claimed dominion over life and death, challenging the Creator Himself. And in their wake, they left only ruin and despair.

But in contrast, there were the Just Kings. King Solomon, the son of David, was gifted with wisdom beyond measure. As both a prophet and a king, he ruled with divine insight, his reign marked by peace and prosperity. He could command the wind, speak to the animals, and even communicate with spirits. Under his rule, the world was a place of harmony.

Dhul-Qarnayn, the king with two horns, was another beacon of justice. A mighty explorer, he journeyed far and wide, spreading justice and protecting the weak. His most famous act was the building of a great wall to imprison the savage forces of Gog and Magog, ensuring the safety of humanity.

These four kings—two just and two wicked—shaped the world in their own ways. Their legacies, both light and dark, would be remembered forever.

But in the shadow of these great kings, in a place forgotten by time, a child was born.

His birth was not one of joy or celebration. It was not marked by the warmth of a loving family, nor the gentle whispers of a mother's lullaby. No. His birth was one of violence, despair, and death.

He came into the world in a desolate land, a place soaked in blood and suffering. The air was thick with the stench of death, and the ground was stained with the remnants of countless battles. War, bandits, and kidnapping were everyday occurrences. Life here was cheap, and death was everywhere.

The boy's mother— was an unknown woman —was murdered by a group of ruthless bandits. Her body was left hanging from a tree, a lifeless corpse swaying in the wind. It was in that cruel moment, as the world continued its march of destruction, that the boy was born.

His birth was not like any other.

The umbilical cord still attached, he emerged from her lifeless body, a bloody and unholy beginning. There was no one there to care for him, no gentle hands to welcome him into the world. The boy was left alone, abandoned in a mire of blood and death.

But the world—harsh and unforgiving—had no room for mercy.

Time passed, and fate was not kind.

A group of mercenaries, led by a man named Varek, stumbled upon the boy. They were not saviors, nor were they filled with any sense of compassion. No, they saw only a tool, something to use in their struggle for survival.

Varek was a hard man. Cold. Cruel.

The boy, still an infant, was taken in. Not out of kindness, but because they needed someone to carry their burdens. The mercenaries were ruthless, and they cared for nothing but their own survival.

The boy, now a young child, was forced to learn the harsh realities of life. Under Varek's unforgiving hand, he learned to fight, to survive, and to trust no one. His days were filled with pain and hardship, and his nights were lonely, haunted by the ghosts of his past.

But even in the depths of darkness, the boy was not without hope.

One day, after a brutal conflict, he managed to escape. He fled, running from the only life he had ever known, into the wilderness. His heart was cold, his trust broken, and he swore never to rely on anyone again.

But even the most hardened heart can yearn for something more.

The boy's journey took him to places both strange and familiar, until, one fateful day, he was found by a noble couple—Lord Cadwell and Lady Miren. They were kind, gentle souls who could not have children of their own. They took the boy in as their own, raising him in a world of comfort and warmth. For a time, it was as if the boy had finally found peace.

For the first time, the boy felt what it was like to be loved.

But peace, as always, was fleeting.

The noble couple was framed for a crime they didn't commit. Their lands were taken from them, their name tarnished. They were betrayed by those they had trusted, and soon, even their lives were forfeit. They were assassinated in cold blood, leaving the boy once again alone, lost in a world full of chaos.

Now, older and more hardened than before, the boy wandered the world alone. He trusted no one, relying only on himself for survival. He was like a shadow, moving quietly from place to place, never staying long enough to form connections, never allowing anyone to get close.

But the boy's true origins remained a mystery. His features were strange—dark brown eyes, caramel-colored hair, and pale skin. Some whispered that he might be of Levantine origin with a European resemblance, but no one could say for sure. The boy himself didn't know, and it didn't matter. His past was a shadow he couldn't outrun, and his future seemed just as uncertain.

All he knew was that the world was a cruel place, and he would have to survive it on his own.

One day, he stumbled upon a strange, ancient library. It was said to hold knowledge that had been forgotten by time—secrets that could change the world. The boy felt drawn to it, as though something was calling to him from within. Perhaps, in this library, he would find the answers to the questions that had haunted him for so long.

And so, with the weight of his past upon his shoulders and the uncertainty of his future ahead, the boy stepped into the library.

Unbeknownst to him, his journey had only just begun.

End of Chapter 0