A Song Through Time - Prologue

Roia was a world where magical creatures such as dragons, elves, dwarfs, vampires, and many others lived. It was a fantastical world where magicians and warriors were prevalent, but this beautiful world had turned into nothing but a burning inferno by their invaders, the demons.

As time marched on, its merciless nature ended many races, leaving only the strongest and most resilient to survive. 

The Bastion, the last refuge of the living races, stood tall on the Everlasting Pinnacle, the harshest place on the planet.

It had taken ten years to construct, but the remaining survivors had completed it. Even in these dire circumstances, the will for survival was impeccable.

The people inside were malnourished, but their eyes shone with determination, for they were the fighters, magicians, healers, and aspect users who had gone through the worst imaginable situations and still managed to build a fortress to protect themselves.

In the distance, the residents of the Bastion could see the endless lava and magma covering the ground and the mountains that seemed to pierce through the sky. It was a place where no living being could survive for long, except for the demons slowly approaching them. 

They were running out of time even though they had built the Bastion and made it the last livable place in this hell. Soon, the demons would adapt to the harsh mountains and reach them. At most, they had a few years left.

This caused distress to the survivors, as they could remember the horrors of their loved ones' deaths and the extinction of entire races. 

The bloodshed and death had made their hearts numb to it all, only wishing for survival. If they fell into the clutches of the demons, they would either become enslaved people or demonic apparitions, with no free will and only slaughter in their minds. 

A group of survivors had gathered near a magical fire, warming their bodies and keeping themselves healthy in case anything was about to happen at any moment.

The environment here was so cold that many had frozen to death due to a momentary lapse. They had to constantly use fire, aura, or mana to keep their bodies warm. 

The fire crackled and flickered, casting dancing shadows across the faces of the survivors huddled around it. Each of them had their own story of how they had made it to the Bastion, but they all shared the same fear of what would come. 

The group huddled together, exchanging stories of their past before the invasion of the demons. Memories of laughter, love, and joy were now a distant dream. All they had left was the will to survive and to protect what little had remained of their world.  

One of the survivors, a dwarf, spoke up. 

"We cannot keep living like this. We need to find a way to fight back against the demons. We cannot sit here and wait for them to come and take us!"

The others nodded in agreement, but their situation was harsh. They were outnumbered, outmatched, and out-gunned. They had little to no chance of defeating the demons, as they were far more potent than anything they had ever encountered.

At that moment, they noticed a figure flying towards the sky.

The people huddled up suddenly heard the voices of two other survivors next to them, who weren't a part of the group, making them surprised by their words. 

"Isn't that strategist William? What is he doing up there?"

Asked a mage who was currently using magic to dig out a trench.

"I think that's him, wow, even a strategist has such a potent ambiance… Wait, wasn't he supposed to be at the fourth stage though? Why is he at the seventh stage?"

A knight beside him spoke, awe plastered all over his rugged face.

Suddenly, the barrier covering the Bastion split for a second and then reconstructed instantly, a figure flying out of it.

"What the--? What is he doing?!"

Said the duo in unison.

The group behind them was also in shock, not understanding the situation.

However, before they could even ask their superiors, an elderly man's voice was heard.

"All survivors gather at the central plaza. Strategist William has sacrificed himself to buy us time."

Hearing his voice, the people rushed to the central plaza at their top speed.

There, they found the leaders, now two less than before. Strategist William and Elder Sylmare were missing.

"Now that all of you are here, we will be giving tasks to all of you to construct the last hope we have left, the dimensional portal. This is the last gift strategist William has left us, the last hope for survival. If anyone is seen having ulterior motives while we are constructing it, they are to be executed on the spot."

The same elderly voice was heard, coming from an elderly man with a long white beard and short white hair. The crow's feet on the corner of his eyes were evident, and his frown was deep, etched on his face through many years of hardship.

The man's name was Alexander Rothsgomery, one of the generals who had kept them alive all this while.

Hope had arrived, as William had sacrificed himself for the remaining survivors to live.