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PROLOGUE
In the first age, there existed seven monarchs within the demonic realm. Beings of utmost power, they were revered as gods, excepting one, for he was known to be a mutant. This was the Fourth Lord, Pernen, who was weaker than the other six tyrants.
Many doubted whether the same pure blood flowed through his veins. He lacked the iron rule over his realm that came so naturally to the other monarchs. Following this, he lacked great magical reserves, unable to curse the earth with natural calamities or assume a demonic form. His form appeared to be a fragile human body, yet he was still ancient beyond reckoning, his magical prowess taking forms that differed from his demonic kin.
These regal beings ruled the demon realms, and in theory, their rule was absolute, none other able to take up their mantle of tyranny. Pernen was the sole exception, for great demon lords gleefully challenged his right to rule at every turn, wishing to devour him and subsume his pure blood. Yet, despite his obvious flaws, he was still a monarch. He enforced this fact by his subtle mastery of magic, forming the elements to his will and replicating the powers of other beings. His real strength lay in his ability to analyze, and in so doing, understand the arcane arts. His power was not raw wrath to be unleashed upon worlds; no, it was a keen dagger of knowledge.
Still, despite his subtle mind and mastery, his power would always be limited. This fact meant that he was constantly faced by the mortal coil, the threat of death: A phenomenon that the other monarchs had no understanding of, those beings of terrible power. In fact, had it not been for the intervention of another tyrant, Pernen would have been consumed and replaced ages ago. So he persisted, but without pride, a miserly existence for one such as he. He had no choice but to consume the hearts of any devil he defeated, desperate for the smallest amplification of his magical reserves. For centuries he survived like this. Time was a cruel mistress, however, and with each tick of the clock, his influence over the realms waned. His kin expanded their dominions and control while he merely wandered from here to there, possessing only that which he brought with him. He was the beggar prince of the abyss, a landless lord with no army to call his own.
He despised his miserly existence, knowing that he could not maintain it for all eternity. The solution to his plight finally came to him: He had to increase the magical energies within his foes before consuming them. Quality over quantity, as the age-old adage went. This then was his new field of research, and he embraced it with all gusto.
After many experiments, both failed and successful; he had developed various spells and magical amplifications that none could imitate. Up until now, no concept of armor and armaments had existed within the realms, for the world was newly birthed from the void. His first creations were suits of armor fashioned from the raw hides of slain demons and weapons fashioned from their razor-sharp claws.
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Pernen soon expanded upon these talents, his laboratories overflowing with the corpse matter of various high-ranking demons. He crafted his armor, weapons, and trinkets at a maddening pace, all the while engraving his artifacts with the runes of magic in the language that he himself had composed.
This was how his artifacts came into being, granting the previously weak monarch powers unlike any wielded by his kin.
At first, his results were crude mockeries of his later masterwork creations. His fellow monarchs, as well as many demons, mocked him for tinkering with useless objects. They stated that no devil could be bested by rolling a stone down a cliff; no, true battle was a thing of claw and jaw and flame.
Time is the ultimate arbiter; for his efforts and talents began reaping dividends. Pernen soon showed that he could craft the remains of slain demons into lethal weapons and impenetrable armor. His ultimate apotheosis came when he mastered the ability to store and channel magic through the creations he had forged. Where previously he had been a magister of middling ability, he could now split the earth with a single gesture, summon pillaring spouts of flame and, within the next instant, turn such terrible towering infernos into spires of ice. Even the heavens would open at his command, lightning striking down upon his hated foes.
Pernen, through wit and guile, had become as omnipotent as his fellow monarchs. No longer was he prey, and demons that still hunted for his heart found themselves torn to pieces and consumed in a matter of seconds.
He claimed his own portion of the realms, erecting magical barriers to ensure that none would pass within.
He broke a great chunk of rock from the earth which he levitated into the air, carving out his castle with its walls and its reaching spires. All who dared invade his territory were bested. His peace did not last, for a vision of his future death came to him. He felt his body weaken day by day. He tried to deny this, even exploring the possibilities of a return from death, as he knew it was possible for some other beings. All these avenues of investigation availed him naught, and his eternal severance from the mortal coil became a given.
For many years this situation haunted him, his entire existence threatened, and all his labors proving to be futile. He still had many ages before death would strike, yet his death remained certain. It was during this time that many demons started copying his methods, crafting weapons from their own bodies, magically fueling them with slivers of their hearts. Their mimicry, ironically, gave him the answer he sought. He went to work at once, gathering all manner of materials from many strange and surreal spheres of the demonic realms.
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The weapons he had crafted by using demonic hearts were mighty indeed but were mere toys compared to the power he now sought to unleash into the worlds.
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After all his preparations had been made, he flew to the highest room in the highest spire within his heavenly castle. This would be his workshop, and perhaps his tomb.
A dagger he plunged into his own breast, working it in hacking circles until finally, he held his still-beating heart within his hand. This organ could exist outside of him, and as long as a sliver of it existed, he could still draw breath. He then went about the task of cutting his own heart into twenty-four pieces, each of which was placed into a glass tube. Two of these pieces he magically infused into two swords that he had created some time ago.
The next stage of his plan now took full effect as he started forging items, infusing each of them with a remaining piece of his heart, a sliver of his true essence.
It is in this tome that I now reference all twenty-four objects crafted by the Fourth Lord, Pernen:
1. Holy Sword Armenia [Bastard Sword] [Aspect of Light]
2. Demon Sword Karvenia [Bastard Sword] [Aspect of Darkness]
Upon completion of his creations, the time of field-testing began. Each of his items, he tested on himself and then on his greatest foes. The results far exceeded his initial expectations, and his creations became the envy of the entire demonic realm, even awakening his fellow monarchs’ greed. Still, even after the creation of such mighty treasures, emptiness once more entered his soul, for his death was still written in the strands of fate.
Moreover, the shattering of his heart had brought his death even closer. His creations had robbed him of much, even if they were as mighty as they were. Pernen knew his death was certain and that a successor had to be named to take his stead. Yet, he found none of the demons worthy of ascending his throne and claiming his realm.
After many centuries of meditation, the solution came to him: He would use the creations of his heart as the method by which his successor would be chosen. He would introduce balance, or discord, between the demonic and celestial realms. Between these realms, there existed the middle earth: A world of humans and other bipedal races.
Twenty-four meteorites Pernen summoned to ferry his twenty-four creations onto the earth.
They crashed into this world, each releasing their gift and forever changing and distorting countless fates.
Following this arbitrary act, Pernen made his will known to this middle earth:
“Behold, you beings of weakness! I have sent from the heavens artifacts carved from my own breast. I am the fourth lord of my realm, and my power, my essence now resides within the twenty-four treasures that have struck the ground you crawl upon! The being who possesses all of my heart’s creations shall be raised next to me, the fourth lord, whether this being be a demon, an angel or a mere mortal! You shall sit on my left-hand side, and, upon my death, shall become what I am! All realms and realities shall tremble at your feet!”
This, then, is the tale of those twenty-four pieces of Pernen’s heart.
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This tale begins with twenty-four meteors streaking across the sky.
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