Long ago, thousands of years in the past, Dragons waged war against their own kind — a brutal civil war born from pride and the need to prove who among them was the strongest.
The aftermath was catastrophic. Mountains of dragon corpses littered the land,their blood seeping into the earth and poisoning the water. The land withered beneath their remains, and humanity — who once coexisted with the dragons — suffered the most.
The war brought famine. Crops rotted. Livestock perished. Rivers turned into venom. One by one, families died.
Those who survived had no choice but to scavenge the mountains of dead dragons, forced to drink from the sea of blood and feed on tainted flesh.
But there was a price.
A chilling transformation overtook them.
Those who consumed the corrupted remains began to change. Their bodies twisted like soaked cloth wrung dry, mutating into monstrous beings. They grew to twice the size of an ordinary human, wielding the strength of a hundred.
These creatures were soon named the Twisted — cursed abominations born of desperation and curse dragon blood. Their hunger was endless, their rage unstoppable. They overwhelmed the weakened dragons, reducing their once-great numbers to just three survivors.
Now, both humans and dragons shared the same fear—powerless against the Twisted, they fled and hid in the last untouched corners of their land.
Then, a miracle.
Among the humans who drank the dragon's blood, a rare few managed to endure the transformation. Their bodies changed, but not into monsters — instead, they became something new: humans infused with the power of dragons.
Marking the emergence of an evolution of the human species known as the Dragonborn.
The Dragonborn fought back, wielding abilities unlike anything seen before, and stood alongside the remaining dragons.
One Dragonborn could defeat a hundred twisted. For a time, hope returned.
But it was not enough.
The Twisted multiplied, and there were too few Dragonborn—too rare—to stop them.
Humanity and dragonkind began to lose ground. Slowly, they were pushed back.
After decades of war, the western and northern lands—where the Sea of Blood first poisoned the earth—fell to the enemy.
Everything was overrun by monsters.
The land was lost.
No one survived. No humans remain there. Worse still, some have become part of the enemy—twisted themselves.
They were forced to flee from the last corners of the Farland.
Faced with loss—and desperate to survive—the remaining dragons and Dragonborn made the hardest choice.
They devised a SYSTEM.
They forged a pact.
A final gamble to preserve what remained of their world.
Together with chosen human kings, they built new civilizations amid the bones of the old world.
To birth more Dragonborn, the dragons offered their living blood—fresh and untainted—drawn in ritual, not war.
This became known as the Dragonrite.
A rite of power.
A rite of judgment.
And a rite of death.
Those who underwent the Rite would face the Twisting—so named for the grotesque way the body contorts when one drinks dragon's blood.
There were only two outcomes to the Twisting:
The worthy—those who ascend—become Dragonborn.
The unworthy—those who descend—become Twisted.
To reduce the risk, they imposed restrictions.
As the first Dragonborn had once been a prince, the rite was reserved for royal and noble bloodlines alone. It was believed their lineage carried something that increased the chance of success.
They must strengthen both their physical and mental condition before undergoing the Rite.
Yet even then, not all survive—though it increases the chance of success.
Still, the system held.
And so, from blood and ashes, three kingdoms rose:
TIAMAT, the five-headed dragon at the heart of the continent.
NIGUNUS, the Inferno, ruling the sun-blasted dunes of the west.
TORTUROCK, the Terra, nestled in the shattered southern archipelago.
United, these three kingdoms vowed to form an army of Dragonborn, save what remained of humanity, defeat the Twisted, and reclaim their homeland from the curse.
Now, in the present 185 years had passed since the Kingdom rose and the system built.
A scream shattered the silence of the capital as the Queen went into labor. The King rushed to her chambers, eyes burning with hope—and fear.
"Well?" he asked, voice tight.
"It's... another princess, Your Majesty," the healer replied quietly.
The King's shoulders dropped. "Another…" He looked toward his weakened Queen, who turned away, coughing.
"I failed again… I failed you… and the dragons."
He didn't offer comfort this time. His eyes were fixed on the bundled infant in the healer's arms.
"Is she strong?" he asked.
The healer shook his head. "Born two months early. Frail. Her body may not survive the coming seasons."
The King took the child silently, his hands trembling as he cradled her fragile form. His eyes lingered on her for a long moment—soft, uncertain, and distant. He said nothing, but the weight in his gaze spoke louder than words. Around him, no one dared to speak.
The Queen closed her eyes, tears slipping down. The King placed the child in her arms—but his gaze was already distant.
Murmurs swept through Tiamat—another princess born to the royal family. For generations, only males had survived the Dragonrite. Females were seen as too weak, often transforming into mindless beasts—the Twisted.
The seven council members gathered.
"Our kingdom needed a prince!" barked by the High Priest. "A son to inherit the dragon's power!"
"The people won't accept this," said the other "It's a bad omen."
"Twice now, the Queen has failed," another councilor hissed. "Never in history has a king had two daughters first."
"Have we learned nothing from the past? added Thorne, a retired Dragonborn, "Every princess who sought the dragon's blood met a fate worse than death. Twisted into mindless horrors!"
Only the Queen's father, remained silent—his eyes clouded with guilt and a quiet, restrained fury.
At last, Arteé, the youngest member and head of the council, rose from his seat.
His sharp gaze fell on the Queen's father before he addressed the room.
"Enough." His voice rang with clarity.
"If the king were here to hear you speak of his family this way… would any of you still have the courage to speak?"
Silence settled like a cold wind, though doubt lingered.
Tiamat, the most vulnerable of kingdoms, stood at the heart of the continent, bordered by the west and north. As the Twisted grew stronger by the day, they faced an increasingly dire situation.