Our story begins during the late Kingdom Age across the world of Hareth, where a young boy was born in a village in the province of Sylvyn. A realm along the far east coast of the northern region of Britannia. It is in a small and peaceful town with a robust population. This is where both his family and friends have resided with him since his birth and early childhood. This boy was special, though, for he had a dormant destiny within his spirit and lived with his father, the village leader, Josephus, throughout his childhood. Alongside the other fathers of the village. All of whom taught their sons how to hunt and survive within the wilds of the inland forests and valleys. They would hunt various rabbits, boar, mountain elk, and caribou reindeer by examining the hunting strategies of wolves. Starting at the age of 6, and by the time Jordyn was nine, He had already learned how to defend himself from predatory animals to hunt wild game for himself and his family. However, unbeknownst to him, this young boy's life would be drastically changed forever, and his destined legacy would change the world around him, both for better and for worse. Due to the village being protected from a commune further to the far north of the provinces, not much is known about this commune other than that they put fear into the bandits, robbers, and rapists hidden in the wildlands that threaten the locals. The commune in question is named Sons of Sakla, but the Sylvyn locals will soon know the true intentions of their growing presence in the province of Sylvekya.

  Jordyn's life continued as any child should at this time and for the next year or so. When returning home from his hunt with the other boys he knew, he would face his worst fear when a strange-looking group of thirty men in black robes and masks were seen conversing with the village leaders. The village men, Jordyn's, and the other boys' fathers never knew what would've been said between them. But in three months, they would soon see the black-robed men themselves, when they would soon return with more ominous intentions. The fathers, especially Josephus, were trying to hide their fears of what would happen to their sons. Josephus refused to let his son Jordyn know what was said so they wouldn't be frightened by this group of men in masks. By the time they put the incident behind them, life carried on for the village. But when three months came to pass, it was as the men had promised. They've returned, now with a warrior-like group looking to be of Ivaerian descent. They numbered fifty men, barreling down the misty coast on horseback with swords, axes, and black powdered pistols. The village fathers stormed out of their homes and barricaded the doors and windows from the outside. They warned their families and children to stay inside and that they should never leave. The fathers gathered with swords and farming equipment, hoping to fend off the attackers with the rags on their backs. This was Josephus's stand alongside the fellow fathers and defenders of their village home, rain setting in on the familiar but now haunting mist around them as an omen of what's to come. Young Jordyn is then looking through a crack in the wooden paneling of their house wall to see what's going on while his older sister and mother are frighteningly weeping behind him.

  Not long after that, Jordyn, through the cracks, spots the very exact figures in the black robes and masks from three months prior. With malice in their strides, the men approached the village side by side with the Ivaerians, armed to the teeth with weaponry and armor, threatening the safety of the village and the people of his home. All things change for Jordyn when he suddenly hears his father, Josephus, shout at the mystery figure, "Damn thee! Thou art not taking mine own son!" Fear began to rush through Jordyn's mind. He was traumatically catatonic at what could happen in his frightened confusion. Who are these men? Why do they want the child so severely that they are willing to destroy his village home to take him violently?

  The leader of this group, a hooded man with ornate armor adorning his robes and a platinum mask, steps forward and calls out to Josephus in the sight of all of Josephus's men. The response of the fathers, along with Josephus, was an urge to fight this figure, but internally, they felt a strong sense of malice coming from the man and the Ivaerians with him. One of the others, overwhelmed, rushed forward with his sword and shield. Following this action, the figure showing who he has snapped his fingers with a thunderous shockwave of energy. Trembling, the man fell onto his back in shock. While seeing this happen, Josephus had his jaw gapped in awe-struck shock, sweat trickling down his brow at the sight with his hands trembling in his sword's grip. Within only these few seconds, the mysterious masked figure assumes dominance over these men with this shockwave of dread. The Ivaerian leader laughs and shouts, "Whoever dares another step in resistance against the sovereign shall reap their bloodshed." "Now, I suggest you all listen to what he must say with reverence."Under his mask, the Grandmaster of the Sons of Sakla coven begins to speak. Josephus then learns who this man is and his intentions regarding Sylvékya.

  [The Razing of Sylvékya]

  "Josephus, do you remember my promise to you? I said that if you were to not deliver your son to me, I would return to collect him myself in 3 months. So where is he? I sense a strong essence within the bounds of the village. I know it's the boy." "Knowing that such a powerful essence lies dormant in the hands of people who cannot tend to its need for direction. It gives me a sense of wrathful retribution towards those who neglect such power. It has eaten away at my conscience for far too long. So now I must take the boy by force. Lest you all wish to see an erasure of your home's existence."The haunting tension crept upon these men as the coven's leader stated his intentions. They came to know that a neigh upon that very night was coming from their home's erasure from the face of Hareth. Everything that was ever built up, sewn, and nurtured through centuries of heritage and tradition. Only for it to be raped of any resemblance of emotional ties and presence upon the world. It was not something to be given up without the fact that these men should defend it. Though powerless against such a force as these figures. It would be better to die in virtue than to live as slaves to a world knowing you had nothing to show for what your heart has held as its home. Thus, only Josephus and the fathers of this land stand. Suppose their wives and children could see them standing firm to their very end. These men of Sylvék kin and tongue weren't anything but courageous in their stand against these encroaching Ivaerian rogues.

  "As is your wish, so it shall be," Josephus interrupts the masked man, beckoning him to answer one last question. "I'm naught to giveth of mine owneth seed, lest that shalt seethe to butcher down mine own corpse. Coequal in thy vein gl'ry, mineth essence shalt gripe this yard and beckon backeth mine own son unto mine owneth foldeth hith'r. So answ'r me this, what is thy nameth so I may beshrew thee to cease?"Though the Sylvéks did not see the man's face, under it, he had a smug pride about himself in answering, "Oh, so you wish to know my name?" "I don't mind, given your certain deaths; my name is Lucius." "This man here to my right, who represents my authority, is named Skeligaer. Prince over the Ivaerian Isles and son to King Ivaer. So, I assume that it is to your satisfaction to know whom you share presence with."

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  Josephus stood ready for what was to come, knowing by hearing the name. His death was now certain to come to pass. The mysteriously masked figure is now known as Lucius. He ordered Skeligaer's legion to raze the village to the ground and fetch the boy who holds such importance to Lucius and his coven. The Sons of Sakla. Josephus, when hearing this. He regains his composure, though still frightened by an inkling within him. He was steadfast in valiance and ready for his fight-20-50. Though less than half in manpower. They were buffed up by conviction and retired Britannian military experience. But this was personal. This was the Sylvék's fight alone. So, they fought without relenting amidst the very hours set upon them by fate. The fathers of Sylvékya stood with Josephus by sheer willpower, but it was not enough against this barbaric force.

  They continued to fight through blood, sweat, and tears, tooth and nail, under the shower of rain. The moaning cries of the men being savagely put down were more like those of mangy dogs rather than men of honor. From this bout, only 15 of the 50 Ivaerians perished. At the same time, all but Josephus were spread out, lying dead and mutilated upon the drenched mud, deprived of humanity and sanctity in the image of their demise. Josephus, on his knees, face to face with death, was approached by the masked Lucius. And beckoned, "Josephus, point to us the house of yours so we may end this engagement. I will show mercy to you and the families of this land if you do so." "Thee wh'reson bastard, thee speak'th deceit. If 't be true, thee did wish m'rcy upon us, thee wouldst not've butch'r'd mine own cater-cousins lik'th dogs. " *vomits blood* "All of thee, springe our sons and rape our lands, f'ck all of thee, may the flame cleave thy tongue by his blade. I'll beest butch'r'd down bef're thee springe that gent from me thee cowards!!"Josephus then stands back on his feet like a drunkard.

  Lucius then looks to Skeligaer, then back to Josephus, "I've had enough; finish the wretch." Josephus hacks up bloodied phlegm to Lucius's platinum mask brow, failing to aim for his eyehole. With the force of aer, Lucius plows Josephus firmly against the mud, breaking his ribs by the push and slamming him onto his back. Gasping under the pressure of pounding the dirt under his battered body. "Do as you wilt; deliver unto me the boy and burn this place to a cinder," Lucius speaks wrathfully to Skeligaer. Then, with the snapping of his fingers, he phased away from sight and into the air as he teleported back from where he came. Josephus then murmured to himself towards the sky while the muffled sounds of the Ivaerians hunting for the boy, burning the thatch-roofed houses, killing the elders, wives, sons, and daughters. The terror and screeching bellowing a morbid cacophony in his head. as he lay stunned and in shock, imagining the destruction around him.

  "Though mine own blood doth spill upon the dirt; the home of mine own h'ritage smelt'd to ashes, mine own flesh and blood snar'd from me. In the waketh of mine own death, may thee, Abva'kalah, keepeth mine own son's destiny in thy Holy Flame. Lest his spirit p'rish 'long with his being, sealeth mine own essence upon this yard and taketh me. F'r I wast too weak to keepeth the lasteth living son of mine yard. *gasping* *gagging* (whispers in ancestral tongue) Svyks'sha tsuk'lova, kysht vyktae lotzi jaek'tsa. [As is my wisheth, so shalt beest as thee wilt]" Meanwhile, the only ones not to be slain were the sons, of whom only the boys from ages ten and younger lived and were taken. They were to be brought to the coven Grandmaster unharmed to see who out of them the boy was. Once the rogue men are given the command, Skeligaer returns to Josephus. Lying quietly and coughing under his blood and phlegm.

  "I see you are clinging on, wretch; I do not jest in stating that you've proven stronger than any man before who faced down the master sovereign's power nor my ax; I will grant you your last words if any remains." While gasping for air, Josephus gathers what's left of his strength to state his final words to Skeligaer. "Wend plow yourself thee wh'reson mut." That said, Skeligaer raised his royal ax and struck swiftly with haste. Severing the neck of Josephus with a crackling snap. The wailing sons, aged ten and younger, were all being carried off by force on horseback. Away from the burning village, Skeligaer goes forth to wipe Sylvékya off the map. The once cherished home of Josephus, the father of the destined boy, Jordyn. This was his mournful and savage end. Not two days passed before Jordyn was brought before the Grandmaster of the Sons of Sakla coven. The man responsible for the destruction of their Sylvék home, Lucius, through the hands of Skeligaer and his Ivaerian brutes.

  Following the events leading to Sylvekya's erasure from the face of Hareth. With the brutal, hedonistic slaughter of Josephus and his men. As for what happened to both Jordyn's elder sister and mother, Estefania and Helena, they narrowly escaped the bloodshed with their lives, and they now are lone refugees on their arduous trek due west through the Sylvyn tundra, the rolling valleys, and inland forests toward the national capital of Britannia. Meanwhile, Jordyn and all the boys aged ten and under were less fortunate. Instead, they were taken up further north by force to an Ivaerian stronghold that securely houses the underground coven, the Sons of Sakla, with their grandmaster, Lucius. Once the boys were delivered to Lucius, he gravitated toward nine-year-old Jordyn. As for the other boys found to have been unworthy of his attention, even the friends of Jordyn were then, in response, sent off to fend for themselves in the frigid wilderness of the north Sylvian province. Never to be seen again. Jordyn, however, was instead sent into isolation without friends or family. Despite this, he showed remarkable resilience. Soon, he was subject to Lucius's influence after nine days had passed. For the following nine additional years, he was continually ripped away from his innocence and further molded to be used for his destined greatness by Lucius. Not long after, at eighteen, becoming the very herald of the Kingdom Ages' end. Grandmaster Lucius and the Headmasters later become Sovereign and his Governors of a global superpower, the Serpent Empire, with Jordyn then, at age twenty-seven, being remade as the Ironclad Lord over a Grand Imperial State of his own as the Leviathan Führer. Long gone was the adventurous child from the outdated home of Sylvékya; this was what Jordyn had rebuilt as. A husk of his childhood self for centuries on end. This was the tragic origin of Jordyn's father, Josephus, along with what came of Sylvékya's savage destruction.

  At the tender age of nine, Jordyn was forcibly taken from his home in Sylvékya. He and the other boys were sent to the frigid tundra of the northeastern mountainous realm within the Sylvyn province. Those found unworthy were sent off to fend for themselves, while Jordyn's fate was to be raised by the Sons of Sakla coven, where his innocence was gradually erased over the next nine years. This period of his life was a passage of time and a profound transformation. At eighteen, he emerged as a fully developed, influential figure, a prodigy of the Sons of Sakla Coven under the Grandmaster, Lucius. Jordyn's life following these events was sent further into isolation to be raised by the coven, with his innocence increasingly erased from him for the next nine years until he was eighteen.