World creator system

The mountains looked like something from a dream. The many layers of sandstone and multi-colored minerals had been compressed together over millions of years, creating rock formations both bizarrely garish and breathtaking in their beauty. Beneath the desert sun they glowed in vivid stripes of red and yellow, green and blue. It was an artist's palette of color, a phantasmagoric feast for the eyes. Despite its beauty, though, this was a harsh landscape. People died here every day. The unprepared and the foolhardy expired from hunger and thirst; others fell prey to wild animals or brigands. Vultures wheeled in the sky, knowing that carrion was never far from their hooked beaks. The desert dust beneath the sparse clumps of greenery was rich with the powdered bones of the dead. For now the air was still, the desert undisturbed. A lizard basked motionless in the heat of the slowly setting sun. Then, sensing vibrations beneath its feet, it darted for cover. Next moment a blot of darkness appeared on the horizon, wreathed in a churning cloud of dust.

Anyone standing where the lizard had been would have heard, faint at first, wild cries and approaching hoof beats. They would have seen the blot of darkness emerge from the heat haze and resolve itself into a two horses, which had man and women mounted on their backs.

They were heading for the range of Painted Mountains, hoping that, under cover of the coming night, they would find safety in its deep ravines and steep valleys.

Merlin squinted, his piercing gaze cutting through the shifting haze, while the desert's grit scraped against his skin. Beside him, Melisandre's crimson robes billowed like fire in the fading light, a stark contrast to the pallid earth. Her expression remained inscrutable, though her eyes gleamed with a strange, simmering intensity.

Finally, they stopped at the base of a towering sandstone outcrop. Merlin dismounted, his boots crunching against the cracked earth, and tethered Sleipnir, his restless steed. The horse's dark coat glistened with sweat, steam rising faintly into the cooling night. Melisandre followed suit, her movements deliberate, her every gesture tinged with an eerie grace.

Merlin stretched his hand forward, fingers curling as a sphere of flame coalesced above his palm. The fire crackled to life, casting sharp, flickering shadows across their makeshift camp. Its heat pushed back the biting chill, though the desert night closed in swiftly around them.

The silence was broken only by the low, mournful howl of the wind as Merlin's gaze lingered on Melisandre. She stared back, her expression unreadable but sharp with curiosity.

"What is so special about Yi Ti?" she asked finally, her voice soft yet cutting through the desert's hush.

Merlin let the question hang in the air for a moment, his features shadowed by the flickering light. "Yi Ti..." he began, his voice weighted with the cadence of a storyteller, "...is more than a land of silk and spice. I forged ties with them centuries ago. Helped an emperor secure his throne, earning their debt—and their friendship. Their wealth is boundless, their gods... ancient and strange."

Melisandre's eyes flickered in the firelight, her interest piqued. Merlin leaned forward, his voice lowering to match the growing tension in the air. "Amongst the most revered gods are the Lion of Night and the Maiden-Made-of-Light. Legends say their union birthed the first God-Emperor of Yi Ti, the God-on-Earth."

He paused, his gaze distant, as if peering into the centuries. "But it is their fall from grace that haunts them. The Amethyst Empress decendant of God of Earth, she was the heir—righteous, beloved—was betrayed and slain by her own brother, the Bloodstone Emperor. His ascent marked the Blood Betrayal, he practiced torture, dark arts, and necromancy. He enslaved his own people, took a tiger-woman for wife, feasted on human flesh and cast down the true gods of Yi Ti to worship a black stone that fell from the sky.Thus in its wake, the Maiden-Made-of-Light turned her face away from the world. The Lion of Night descended in wrath, unleashing horrors upon people of Yi Ti."

Merlin's voice grew heavier, each word striking like a tolling bell. "Every three centuries, Yi Ti pays the price of that betrayal. Demons spill forth from the shadows—sent by the Lion of Night to remind them of their sins. They call these demons Tao Tei."

Melisandre's lips pressed into a thin line. "And the time for the demons is near?"

Merlin nodded gravely, the fire reflecting a flicker of worry in his eyes. "Two months, perhaps less. The New Yellow Emperor Chai Wang is young and naive, his armies unready. His father begged for aid before his death." He glanced at Melisandre, his tone sharpening. "So better be ready."

Melisandre nodded with a smile, Merlin more less knew Melisandre loved him more than just a mentor figure. He knew she even talked about this too his wife Cassandra.

Before Merlin could continue, a sudden, ear-splitting scream tore through the darkness. It was a hideous sound.

He spun towards the blackness beyond the flickering firelight.

He eyes glowed blue for a moment, the darkness dissolved into a radiant, living tapestry. Shapes began to emerge in his vision—not of light, but of auras. The animals in a distnace were faint, shimmering outlines of white energy, their forms glowing softly like gentle specters in the dark. A fox darted through the underbrush, its sleek body traced in pale luminescence, while an eagle perched high above, its wings folding in a halo of pure white.

But not all auras were white.

Merlin paused, his breath catching. In the distance, faint traces of red energy pulsed between the trees. The crimson glow was jagged and volatile, like veins of molten fire coursing through the air. He recognized it instantly—Tao Tei. Their essence was unmistakable, their aura radiating an ominous, predatory energy.

And then all hell broke loose.