Amidst the tempestuous expanse of the open sea, a day unfolded that would forever be etched in history - a day of bloodshed and valor, where the clash of titanic forces mirrored the raging elements above. Waves surged like towering giants, each surge concealing a dance of life and death among warriors battling relentlessly for survival.

Among them stood Sonngild, a man of noble bearing whose indomitable spirit was matched only by his unyielding prowess in the face of the tumultuous tides. His weapon of choice was not a conventional blade, but rather his fist, a testament to his unbreakable will, forged and imbued with the essence of unyielding steel.

Yet, Sonngild was no mere warrior seeking glory on these treacherous waters. He was a pioneer, the very first to hoist his sails to the capricious wind and set forth upon the unpredictable sea, driven by an unquenchable thirst to carve his name into the annals of legend. The blood coursing through his veins bore the noble lineage of the Silfur family, a lineage intertwined with prestige and honour.

The Silfur lineage, of which Sonngild was a scion, commanded reverence as one of the eighteen fabled sentinels strategically positioned across the vast tapestry of the Yin and Yang continents. These storied guardians were the bulwark between realms, their names whispered with a mixture of awe and fear. The very mention of Silfur invoked images of unparalleled might, for each member of this lineage was akin to a singular, awe-inspiring army - a superlative breed crafted for the art of warfare, destined to be a harbinger of death on the battlefield.

And so, against the backdrop of the roiling seas, the saga of Sonngild of the Silfur family unfolded - a tale woven with threads of bravery, lineage, and an ancestral calling to dominance. On this tumultuous day, as the clash of warriors reverberated like a solemn hymn amidst the howling winds, his story joined the chorus of the ages, an ode to the unyielding human spirit in the face of nature's most formidable forces.

Theirs was an army forged in the crucible of relentless battles, a force that had stared down more demons than monarchs from the Yang realm. In the wake of such unending slaughter, the shadows of insanity threatened to descend upon even the bravest hearts.

Among the illustrious heirs of the Silfur lineage, emerged a young Sonngild. The call to arms beckoned him to the battlefield at the tender age of fifteen, plunging him headlong into a maelstrom of horrors that defied human comprehension. Each skirmish, each clash, carved scars into his soul as indelible as those that marked his body, a testament to the unfathomable traumas he had endured.

The cycle of agony and bloodshed seemed an inescapable fate, an eternal destiny woven into the tapestry of the eighteen Guardians' lineage. Sonngild bore the weight of his ancestors' terrors etched into his very being, a ceaseless reminder of the darkness that had clawed its way through generations.

Yet, amidst the desolation and despair, a glimmer of hope arose with Sonngild. The air was charged with whispers of change, carried on the winds of his exceptional achievements. Through his audacious rebellion, the tide of the war itself appeared poised to shift. He emerged as a beacon of transformation, a living testament to the potential to defy the relentless grip of destiny.

Sonngild's greatness extended beyond his battlefield feats. He was a paragon of leadership, his demeanor unwavering even amid the chaos that surrounded him. His charisma drew others like a moth to flame, and his tranquil poise in the face of adversity set him apart as a commander of unparalleled mettle. The reins of power seemed a natural fit for him, woven into his very essence.

As the war's pendulum swung precariously, and the cacophony of clashing steel and desperate cries resounded, Sonngild stood at the nexus of change. In his hands rested not just the fate of the Silfur lineage, but the potential to rewrite the legacy of the eighteen Guardians. The annals of history awaited his brushstroke, ready to immortalise the young heir who dared to challenge the cycle of suffering and steer his bloodline toward a future untarnished by the shadows of their past.

Beneath Sonngild's seemingly carefree veneer lay a wellspring of solemnity that he would unshackle when the hour demanded. A survivor of innumerable injuries and contusions, he never allowed his triumphs to embolden his ego. Despite his towering achievements, humility and earnest dedication remained the pillars of his character, a testament to the greatness that lay within him.

His commitment to the role of savior surpassed mere words. A man willing to lay his very essence on the altar of sacrifice, he exemplified a selflessness that bordered on transcendental. As legends echoed his exploits, the litany of his youthful conquests paved the road to his ascendancy as possibly the most formidable Silfur to grace their lineage.

At the tender age of eighteen, he etched his valor upon the pages of history by standing unyielding against a horde of devils that menaced the southern front lines. The echoes of his indomitable spirit resonated through the ages. A mere two years later, he strode into the lair of a Devil Warlock, a confrontation that left him both scarred and victorious. The severed head of the vanquished foe served as a testament to his unflinching resolve.

Yet, it was not only on the battlefield that Sonngild's magnificence shone. At the age of sixteen, he embarked on a harrowing odyssey across treacherous seas, swimming unrelenting for four days to rescue a beleaguered battalion. The depths of his endurance knew no bounds, his actions a symphony of bravery even amid the most dire circumstances.

The ultimate testament to his selflessness came in a sacrifice most would deem unthinkable. His right arm, the vessel of his strength, was willingly surrendered to preserve the lives of two of his most devoted comrades. This act of incomprehensible valor elevated him beyond the realm of mere mortals. Though overshadowed by the strength of his compatriots, his unwavering courage and resilience transformed them into devoted shadows and brilliant lights in his orbit.

In an era where legends were woven with threads of courage, betrayal, and destiny, Sonngild's narrative unfolded with a brilliance that defied the shadows. His legacy was not merely etched in ink, but seared into the hearts of those who bore witness to his exploits. A portrait of a man who transcended his own limitations to safeguard the sanctity of life itself, his name resonated as a hymn of inspiration across the expanse of time.

Despite Sonngild's heroic actions, his family's reaction was far from admiration. In their aristocratic minds, the sacrifice of a nobleman's arm for the sake of commoners was unfathomable. To them, it was a decision that defied logic - why would a man of high lineage jeopardize his own future, his very identity, for those they deemed beneath their station?

The chasm between Sonngild's values and his family's beliefs widened with each passing day. They could not comprehend the profound bond of companionship that drove him to such extraordinary lengths. Their own lives were governed by a detachment from such relationships, cloaked in an air of privilege and entitlement.

Rather than receiving the applause he rightfully deserved, Sonngild was met with the vehement objections and scathing warnings of his own kin. The flames of fury burned within his family, their anger fueled by the audacity of his actions. However, their displeasure failed to leave even a scratch upon his unyielding resolve.

While his family clung to notions of superiority, Sonngild remained grounded in the reality of his land - a land drenched in the mingled blood of both allies and adversaries. His battlefield was a canvas painted with the sacrifices of friends and foes alike, a tableau that erased the lines between noble and commoner. This tapestry of suffering erased any semblance of justification for his family's self-aggrandizing beliefs.

The respect Sonngild once held for his family had eroded over time, replaced by a stark realization of their disconnect from the true nature of suffering. He had hoped that they, of all people, would understand the depths of pain and hardship. Yet, their inability to fathom his sacrifices severed the final threads of his loyalty to them.

As he stood against the infernal hordes, creatures devoid of morality and reason, Sonngild's perspective crystallized. These were no ordinary foes; they were conduits of destruction, manipulated by an enigmatic deity wielding power that eclipsed even the might of gods. Each battle he fought revealed a haunting truth - victory was an elusive phantom, perpetuating a cycle of death and despair.

In the midst of this unending conflict, Sonngild grappled with a truth that gnawed at his soul - a truth that whispered that even his most valiant endeavors might not yield the desired outcome. The prospect of ceaseless loss and unfathomable suffering painted a bleak panorama, forcing him to question the very nature of his crusade.

Five years had passed since Sonngild's valiant stand, and at the age of twenty-two, his perspective on the battle had undergone a profound transformation. No longer content with the cycle of skirmishes, he yearned to seize the initiative and take the fight directly to the devils that had haunted their world for far too long.

Gathering his battalion in clandestine, he unveiled a daring plan that would change the course of their struggle. He envisioned a ship that would carry them across uncharted waters, a vessel that symbolized their defiance against the relentless onslaught of their infernal adversaries.

With fervor in his eyes, Sonngild addressed his comrades, articulating his audacious proposal to venture into the unknown expanses of the open world. Their initial reluctance wavered as his words kindled a spark of hope within them. One by one, doubts gave way to determination, and the once-hesitant voices joined together in unanimous agreement to accompany him on this uncharted journey.

A palpable sense of joy radiated from Sonngild as he witnessed his battalion rallying behind his vision. This shared decision forged a path toward victory that they had not dared to dream of before. Their collective resolve, the embodiment of their yearning for change, promised a future that transcended the seemingly interminable conflict.

With their hearts aflame with purpose, they threw themselves into the formidable task of constructing the ship. It was a labor that demanded unwavering dedication, with secrecy shrouding their efforts. The ship's construction was an intricate dance of balancing strength and discretion.

Caught on multiple occasions, Sonngild navigated the challenges by resorting to bribes, skillfully sidestepping the prying eyes that sought to halt their progress. There were moments of heartbreak as the ship's design was destroyed and rebuilt, each iteration aimed at perfecting its ability to withstand the ocean's treacherous embrace and the unholy fire of the devils.

The endeavor exacted a heavy toll, demanding three grueling years of their lives. Yet, amidst the sweat and sacrifice, the ship emerged as a testament to their resilience. It stood as a bulwark against the fierce maw of the open ocean, a guardian against the enigmatic creatures lurking beneath the waves, and a defiant challenge to the very flames that had plagued their existence.

Sonngild's unwavering determination had guided them through trials both internal and external, and as the ship stood ready to breach the waters, a new chapter in their battle beckoned. The sails, once unfurled, would carry with them not just a battalion, but the hopes and aspirations of all those who had suffered under the shadow of devils and the burdens of war.

As the battalion marched purposefully toward the awaiting ship, their path was abruptly intercepted by an unexpected sight. Through the dense undergrowth of the forest, an army materialized before their eyes, casting a pall of dread over Sonngild and his comrades. Faced with the stark reality of an imminent confrontation, Sonngild wasted no time; his urgent commands sent a ripple of motion through the battalion, each member hastening toward the ship that awaited them at the water's edge.

Amidst the haste, Dian Fuego, Sonngild's trusted right-hand man, sought clarity on the essential provisions - rations, weapons, and materials for ship repairs. Sonngild's demeanor betrayed his inner turmoil, but he offered only the assurance that they would set sail immediately, lest the ship fall prey to the encroaching threat. Though troubled, the battalion obeyed, dispersing to their tasks with a mix of anxiety and determination.

Yet, the exchange of words had cost them precious time. The opposing army surged forward, arriving at the ship before Sonngild and his battalion could reach it. Anticipation mingled with apprehension, only to be replaced by astonishment as the true nature of the confrontation unfolded.

The enemy soldiers, armed and organized, presented gifts to Sonngild's battalion, their proud forms bending in a show of respect. The tableau was one of unexpected honor, painting a stark contrast to the anticipated clash of arms. In this moment, Sonngild's battalion stood behind the opposing force, their weapons lowered in response to the unanticipated gesture.

With a salute that mingled respect and curiosity, Sonngild took the initiative to query the intent behind this unexpected alliance. The answer was simple yet profound - a thirst for vengeance against the malevolent creatures that had laid waste to their homes. A symphony of determination reverberated through the air, each word a declaration of their shared mission. These were not two armies poised for conflict; they were kindred spirits united by the desire to mete out justice and retribution to the very devils that had wreaked havoc on their lives.

As the realization settled over Sonngild and his battalion, a once-hostile force transformed into a symphony of allied purpose. The boundaries that once divided them dissolved, replaced by a shared destiny forged in the crucible of suffering. And so, as the ship stood waiting at the water's edge, it was not just a vessel that would carry them across the seas, but a vessel of hope, unity, and the promise of a reckoning that had long been overdue.

Sonngild's promise to the united army, echoing through the corridors of time, had become the ember of hope that fueled their journey. The words of the noble heir, resonating with authority and purpose, had ignited a flame within their hearts. Now, thirteen years had passed since that declaration of intent, and the present found Sonngild and his formidable crew ready to confront the demon's vast fleet, a fleet that outnumbered them fiftyfold.

Yet, numerical disadvantage held no dominion over the collective prowess that Sonngild's crew wielded. Each member bore a mantle of power that mirrored his own, accomplishments etched into the annals of Silfur's frontline. They were not just warriors; they were legends, walking among the living.

Among them stood Ribyr Ajlyhim, a man of unassuming stature with a rapier as swift as his thoughts. His shadow manipulation endowed him with a spectral dance, enabling him to traverse the battlefield with a fluidity that defied both logic and expectation. Captains fell like leaves before his storm, an intricate choreography of lethal stabs that made him a harbinger of swift demise.

Then, the flamboyant Odelost Naja, a giant Halfling with hair as wild as his spirit. His very essence defied the constraints of mere combat, for he transformed his enemies' aggression into a tempest of energy, a lightning-laden maelstrom that left devastation in its wake. A lance, his chosen instrument, danced in his hands, a symphony of stabs and pierces that spelled doom for any who dared to oppose him.

In the shadow of their might stood Kuraiyaku, a figure of both awe and respect. His dark skin contrasted starkly with his mane of white hair, a visual embodiment of his enigmatic aura. The spear he wielded was an extension of his will, a conduit for his fast and formidable attacks. The touch of dark corrosion that trailed his strikes struck terror into the hearts of those who faced him, each stab a promise of inexorable doom.

Such power resided within each member, a power that was more than mere weaponry and strategy. It was the embodiment of a legacy, a testament to their unwavering commitment and a reflection of their trials and tribulations.

Amidst the tumultuous battle, the tableau was clear - one member, one ship. This was the essence of the Eklipsiar crew, a force whose very presence bore witness to extraordinary feats. And yet, this was merely a fraction of their greatness, for their history was painted with victories that transcended even their current monumental stand against the demon's fleet.

In the face of overwhelming odds, they stood united, a beacon of indomitable strength that illuminated the darkness of uncertainty. The battlefield echoed with their names, for they were more than individuals; they were a testament to the potential that lay dormant within every soul - the potential to defy destiny, overcome adversity, and etch their mark upon the tapestry of existence.

Beneath the tempestuous surface of the sea, Sonngild's mastery over water proved a formidable advantage in their battle against the demon's fleet. The cascade of raindrops served as allies, cascading down like an orchestra of allies. The rain lent an edge, transforming the battlefield into a realm of their making, a watery dominion where they reigned supreme. Battlefields made slick, ships rocked by torrential currents - these were the hallmarks of their strategic acumen.

Time and again, this meteorological manipulation had been their secret weapon, securing victories and salvaging lives. The very rain that once carried the weight of despair now whispered tales of their triumphs.

Yet, amidst the chaos, a new revelation emerged - devil's ships were retreating. Sonngild's command echoed, instructing his crew to hold their ground. A figure stood poised to deliver a unique form of retribution - Dian Fuego, the right-hand man whose skill with projectiles was a force unto itself.

Positioned with precision, Dian conjured a sphere of flames, wielding a battle-worn greatsword. The strike that followed was a symphony of power and precision, the fiery orb soaring through both sea and sky, a testament to his formidable marksmanship. The crew watched in awe, their vice-captain's prowess unfolding before them.

Within the confines of a battered ship swaying in the turbulent sea, Dian's determination remained unyielding. A cannonball enveloped in a halo of fire was hoisted and launched into the heavens, only to plummet down with relentless fury. Its impact reverberated with an intensity that mirrored the crashing thunder and the wrath of the lightning that streaked across the heavens.

In the wake of this display, the battle reached its climax, a crescendo that marked the culmination of their hard-fought efforts. The battleships, set ablaze by Dian's marksmanship and pyrotechnic brilliance, now lay crippled, their fate sealed amidst the chaos of the storm.

As the last echoes of battle receded, a triumphant roar erupted from the crew. Victory's taste was sweet, their celebration a chorus of jubilation that resonated over the seas. With each year that passed, their chronicles of valor grew richer, a tapestry woven from the threads of victory and camaraderie.

The crew's achievements, etched in time, told the story of a decade-long voyage defined by unyielding courage, unbreakable bonds, and the unrelenting pursuit of a destiny written by their own hands.

Amidst the feast that celebrated their recent victory, the crew reveled with abandon, their laughter and camaraderie weaving a tapestry of unity and purpose. Yet, beneath the veneer of festivity, the weight of uncertainty loomed large. The path they tread towards conquering the Yin continent was fraught with peril, the challenge of overcoming a fleet guarding the continent's shores insurmountable.

The force protecting the Yin shores was rumored to eclipse even the magnitude of their most recent battle. It stood as an unassailable wall, a million-fold stronger and more relentless than anything they had encountered thus far. Yet, the crew held a unique role in the ongoing conflict between Yin and Yang.

They were the marauders, the force that struck where it mattered most - plundering outposts that imperiled the Yang realm. The scales of battle tipped in favor of the Yang thanks to these daring raids. Even the formidable 18 Guardians, a symbol of power and might, were not impervious to the threat posed by the million-strong fleet. A delicate balance existed, a deadlock neither side could breach without unleashing their most potent weapons.

Yet, their impasse wasn't born of strength alone, but rather the intricate web of challenges each realm faced. Rebellions, economic strife, political coups - both forces grappled with internal turmoil that diverted their resources and attention. The tug of war between their empires masked the underlying gridlock in the battle for supremacy.

For Sonngild and his crew, their origins set them apart. As refugees from the hellish conflict, they stood outside the confines of national allegiance. Strangers to the concept of home, they hailed from cities razed by the fires of hell. High-born and commoners alike, they shared a common ground forged from the crucible of devastation.

In their shared plight, a rogue battalion emerged - the Eklipsiar crew, bound by a singular goal: to reclaim the homes they had lost. Dian, Sonngild's right-hand man, bore the weight of this goal most acutely. He carried not just the memory of his country burning, but the haunting recollection of his kin's suffering and his own survival in the face of atrocity.

Their diversity was their strength. Each member embodied the spectrum of humanity, from the heights of nobility to the depths of commonality. Their shared aspiration united them in a mission to restore what was lost, to carve a new destiny out of the chaos that had swept them away.

The feast's joyous reverie was layered with a resolute determination that whispered of their unspoken pledge - to rewrite the narrative of their lives, to defy fate itself, and to lay claim to the lands that had once belonged to them.

In the quiet moments before the storm of battle, Dian's heart harbored a profound relief, a satisfaction born of vengeance. Each devil he slew served as retribution, a blood-soaked testament to the injustices that had befallen his family and people.

He knew that the Eklipsiar crew, save for Sonngild, were all refugees from a world torn asunder - cities ravaged, friends slain, and kingdoms reduced to smoldering ruins. The memories of fathers' heads impaled on spears and mothers reduced to slaves, haunted their nights.

Dian, contrasting Sonngild in demeanor, was the anchor that held the crew together. His pragmatic approach, unwavering determination, and his ability to keep chaos at bay were instrumental in their journey.

As the night descended, Dian once again found himself ensnared by the nightmares of his past, vividly replaying the stormy night that had forever scarred his soul. In the dead of night, amidst thunder and tempest, young Dian had ventured into the treacherous forest with his friends, seeking a cave and the wounded wolf within.

Their journey was perilous, the storm robbing them of vision, yet they pressed forward, driven by a motive known only to them. After a relentless trek, they reached their destination - a cave sheltering a near-death wolf. Their compassion led them to nurse the creature back to life.

But on this night, as the storm raged outside, the wolf stirred and howled, a harbinger of the danger lurking beyond the cave's darkness. An arrow pierced the obscurity, narrowly missing Dian, only to be deflected by the wolf's swift retaliation. Panic ensued as the enemies revealed themselves, sending the boys scattering in fear.

One by one, Dian's friends fell to the merciless onslaught, leaving him and the valiant wolf to fend off the attackers. Their desperate struggle filled Dian with terror, an experience etched into his very being. In the end, the wolf, fighting to its last breath, carried Dian to safety, leaving behind his unconscious comrade.

Soon Dian wake upon from his terror, but misfortune strucked as he watched his country went up in flames. He stood by the mountainside with the wolf which had desperately saved him, in meantime Dian wailed at his uselessness, swore to the world that he shall soon assail the devils, the devils that killed his entire country Españya.

Awakening from this nightmare, Dian was met with the call of a messenger, sounding the horn for a new day. Urgency and foreboding filled the air as the crew assembled. Unexpected news arrived, bearing grim tidings - seventy-three portals had manifested across the borderlands. While they had quelled one demon, the possibility of others lurking in hiding loomed large.

The weight of responsibility fell upon the Eklipsiar crew, respected by the entirety of Yang. They were summoned back to the front lines, their mission to protect the 18 Guardians' land superseding their pursuit of liberation for their stolen homes.

Dian's fiery disposition blazed as he confronted the messenger, defiantly challenging the orders and venting his frustration. He hurled a message at the Archdukes of the Archlestine, wishing upon them a taste of the devils' wrath they had suffered.

The messenger, shaken by Dian's outburst, left with a warning that their defiance would not go unanswered. Yet, the crew remained resolute in their determination to vanquish the demons, their zeal dwarfing even the Archdukes of the Archlestine.

However, Sonngild had a different plan. He decided that a direct confrontation with the Archdukes was necessary to convey their unwavering belief. Dian attempted to rally the crew, but Sonngild insisted on a more diplomatic approach. With that, the messenger was discreetly silenced.

Days passed, and as the Archdukes of the 18 Guardians held a contentious meeting, Sonngild burst into the chamber, demanding answers. The presence of the heir to the Silfur clan left all but the Archduke of Silfur astounded.

Sonngild pressed the Archdukes, seeking justification for halting their efforts to reclaim stolen cities from the devils. He pledged to uphold their mission with unwavering resolve, a promise forged alongside his crew.

The venerable Archdukes revealed their concern - demons were constructing spatial equipment that could destabilize their defenses. Destruction of this equipment within the Yin continent was paramount, and the crew's cooperation was required.

Sonngild balked at their demands, alarmed by the implied threat to his family, hidden away in the outskirts of the Silfur estate. The Archdukes held the lives of his kin in their hands, a power that kindled rage within Sonngild.

An outburst of anger and frustration led to a violent altercation, culminating in Sonngild beheading one of the Archdukes; which is the Archduke of Jörmùgân. The remaining Archdukes ordered his execution, and chaos ensued. Yet, in the nick of time, Kuraiyaku and Dian arrived, defending their captain. The threat of retaliation against the crew's family weighed heavily, forcing their hand.

The Archdukes immediately for seek their judgement, an impending death only awaits traitors of the Yang. But the Archduke of Silfur intervened, for he himself shall foresee their heinous acts. The other Archdukes were outraged by the Archduke of Silfur, intervention in good judgement is heresy to the Yang.

But in good will other Archdukes supported the Archduke of Silfur. For they too wish to hear the traitors ideals, Sonngild and the rest doubts their kindness, assumptions arose to the Archdukes meticulous plans.

The Archduke of Silfur told them, it would be beneficial if the Eklipsiar Crew was to rid a substantial amount of the enemy forces. The others found reasoning on the judgement, others spite it as familial love, but nonetheless the hearing proceeded without difficulties.

The intervention of numerous Archdukes prolonged their judgement, henceforth they wish to hear it quickly for their petulance are unbearable.

Dian conveyed their intent to destroy the gates and took it upon himself and the crew to do whatever was necessary, even if it meant confronting the formidable million-strong fleet.

The Archdukes, furthered angered by these acts, decreed the crew's exile and the denial of any aid or provisions. Both sides agreed to the terms, and Sonngild pledged to accomplish great feats.

In the aftermath, Dian and Kuraiyaku remained resolute, prepared to carry out their mission. Sonngild, on the other hand, decided to visit his beloved wife, knowing it might be their last meeting.

The crew parted ways temporarily, awaiting Sonngild's return. And Sonngild departed shortly to the sea, far away from the putrid lands of death. And into the mountains he goes and in clandestine, as his real home shall remain hidden from the eyes of the Archlestine.

Upon his return, Sonngild's determination burned brighter than ever, reassuring Dian of his unwavering resolve. Their future now hinged on this battle, and they sounded the horns, setting sail to face the daunting Yin continent.

In the looming shadow of the Yin fleet, fifty crew members stood against an overwhelming demon force, their determination unwavering. Their exploits, as they took down thousands of ships, became the stuff of legends, whispered across the world.

The world outside Yang was thrown into chaos as governments struggled to maintain control. The Eklipsiar crew's mistreatment and subsequent defiance stirred unrest among the populace. Millions rallied in support of the crew, even as the crew itself remained oblivious to the global impact of their actions.

However despite the rebellious acts of the populace, the Archlestine remains strong upon their decision. Their spurious acts does not cajole neither an ant or fool. The Archlestine was then chagrined to humiliated, once Kingdoms started to rally in defiance.

Now the Archlestine has to choose whether it's pride or people. Fortunately it seems the Kingdoms they personally groomed, seemed to be on their side. The 7 Kingdoms Of Virtues. But 7 Kingdoms shan't be enough by the hundreds of Kings and Queens that are in favor of the Eklipsiar Crew.

The battle raged on, half of the demon fleet vanquished, but the Eklipsiar crew's numbers dwindled as fatigue and madness took their toll. Each member, like Dian, succumbed to an insatiable thirst for vengeance, a curse born from the bloodshed they had witnessed and inflicted.

Despite the odds, their relentless onslaught continued. The crew's exploits garnered global attention, as they transitioned from defenders to attackers, their actions a symbol of defiance against oppressive regimes.

The world watched as their government's struggles deepened, inflation soared, and ships were built en masse to support the Eklipsiar crew. Those unable to sail stood guard over the portals, trying to ease the crew's worries, even if their efforts went unnoticed.

The government's mistreatment of the crew came back to haunt them, with rumors of curses and karma swirling amid the chaos. The people's discontent grew, and their governments' hold on power weakened.

As the battle pressed on, with half the fleet yet to be defeated, a new threat emerged - 500 Diachaics, a formidable group of demons that rivaled the Archdukes themselves. Dian, undeterred, faced them alone, his madness driving him to unparalleled heights of power.

The battle raged for three grueling days, culminating in Dian's victory. But it was only the beginning, as the crew set their sights on the entire Yin continent. Their 50-member crew faced a daunting numerical disadvantage, yet their resolve remained unbroken.

As the crew rested, the world watched in awe and trepidation, wondering if these vagabonds and savages, the Eklipsiar crew, could rewrite the course of history.

In the wake of their much-needed rest, Sonngild, the charismatic captain of the Eklipsiar crew, stood at the helm, ready to guide his brothers back into the fray. The crew, their spirits rejuvenated and their resolve renewed, burst into shouts of joy, eager to continue their conquest. They were keenly aware that their journey was just beginning, and the path ahead was fraught with ever more powerful demons.

The toll of their relentless battles, however, was starting to show. Many among the Eklipsiar crew bore grievous wounds, testament to the grueling trials they had faced. They pushed themselves to their limits and beyond, and the miraculous events that had saved them before were unlikely to repeat themselves. Their precious rest times dwindled to mere minutes, and their supplies were running low. Yet, their determination remained unwavering.

As they set forth once more, their campaign taking them from one city to another, the Eklipsiar crew sought to emulate the grand feats of ancient legends. Among those legends, one stood supreme—the tale of War Seeker and his twenty Spartans. This was an age when gods walked the earth, in a realm known as Bascias, a world where chaos and brutality reigned supreme.

In this world, gods were beings of unimaginable power, defying the very laws of logic. They were creators and destroyers, the arbiters of balance, and the manifestations of intangible wills. However, this world was far from divine; it was a place where most gods reveled in malevolence, driven by insatiable bloodlust, and spread evil with reckless abandon.

Their paradise was a realm known as Khaotrus, where women were subjugated, riches flowed like water, and servants catered to their every whim. These gods were capricious and tyrannical, desiring everything and refusing to relinquish their grip on this utopian realm.

Amidst this turmoil, five gods emerged as a beacon of hope. The first was War Seeker, a deity renowned for his insatiable love of war and conquest. Now, however, he was weary of the eternal bloodshed, for it no longer provided him with the thrill of true challenge. He longed for battles that could truly test his mettle, ones that brought the joy of victory and the sting of defeat.

The second was Fallen Pride, an angelic figure who oversaw both heaven and hell. His judgment had been skewed by the overwhelming evil that had engulfed the realms. Hell had become a sanctuary for sinners, and the balance between good and evil had been thoroughly disrupted.

The third was the World Sustainer, tasked with preserving the balance of the world itself. Frustrated by the overwhelming evil that had overtaken the world, he sought to restore equilibrium to a realm ravaged by lawlessness.

The fourth was Archaic Light, the god of the sun, responsible for guarding the source of all life. His duty was to protect the sun from beings that sought to steal its power, but other sun deities had abandoned their responsibilities in pursuit of mortal pleasures.

The fifth were the Equilibrium Deities, representing opposing forces that maintained balance in the universe.

These deities became the saviors of what remained of life on Khaotrus, even though they could not fully restore balance on their own. Their powers were restricted by an omnipotent being known as the Omniscient One, who held the key to unlocking their true strength.

The strength of these deities was intricately tied to their legends, achievements, and stories. The greater the legend, the more powerful the deity. Everything that defined their existence, their powers, and even their desires was governed by their will and the wishes of the Omniscient One. The Omniscient One was a being who had transcended gods and immortality, achieving omnipotence, omniscience, and omnipresence. He was a force even the gods themselves would worship.

War Seeker, impatient and weary of waiting, decided to launch a crusade to conquer minor gods in their humble homeland. As he faced the major gods, whose legends, achievements, and stories rivaled his own, he knew they were plotting against him, and he prepared for a battle that would go down in history.

However, the major gods, fearing his growing power, formed an alliance to oppose the bloodthirsty War Seeker. They believed that by uniting their strength, they could halt his unstoppable advance. Yet, as they launched their attack, War Seeker appeared on the battlefield with newfound strength, granted by the Omniscient One himself.

They don't believe the blessings granted by the Omniscient One itself. However in their doubts and such, they were all proven wrong. For the Omniscient One only seeks joy, the entertainment that the War Seeker provides is in itself a bliss. It takes no side nor is he against any, it only shows interest once he was struck with boredom. And after the many centuries of watching the Gods in their dystopian utopia, he grew bored and thus gave blessing to War Seeker.

With his twenty Spartans by his side, War Seeker became an unstoppable force on the battlefield. As they swept through their foes, their strength grew with each victory. The legends that ridiculed War Seeker failed to acknowledge the true source of his power—the blessing from the Omniscient One.

The gods, overwhelmed by War Seeker's might and prowess, found themselves powerless to stop his advance. Their legends were tarnished, and their achievements faded into obscurity. The gods who fell in battle were stripped of their authority and divine powers, descending to the mortal realm as mere shadows of their former selves. Those who died in battle became little more than myths, fading into the annals of legend, forgotten by time itself.

Unbeknownst to the gods, the source of War Seeker's power lay in the blessing of the Omniscient One, a secret they were not privy to. This unique blessing granted him unparalleled strength and growth with each victory.

However, as War Seeker and his Spartans continued their victorious campaign, the Omniscient One began to grow wary of his ascent. Realizing the threat that War Seeker posed, the Omniscient One decided to intervene. He manipulated the threads of fate to ensure War Seeker's downfall, altering the course of history itself.

As War Seeker fought valiantly on the battlefield, the gods could only watch from the sidelines, knowing that they were powerless to interfere directly. War Seeker's

His loyal ally, Irascible Death, fought at his side, their combined strength an unstoppable force. Yet, as they battled relentlessly, War Seeker forgot the nature of Tartarus, a supreme Titan guarding the entrance to both heaven and hell.

Tartarus, one of the beings that had shaped War Seeker's world, fought him fiercely, eventually overpowering the God of War and devouring him. Their legends, achievements, and stories were swallowed by the never-ending void.

As War Seeker and Irascible Death's legends faded into obscurity, the Omniscient One reveled in his victory. He decided to reshape reality, creating a new world where he controlled the course of fate.

In this new reality, the Spartans who had destroyed the Arkh had their memories wiped, and they were given a past with Ever Light, branding War Seeker as a brutal god who sided with the devils. War Seeker's legacy was rewritten, and he was remembered as a villain rather than a rebel who had defied fate itself.

With the disappearance of the gods, humanity faced a new challenge - the Seven Deadly Sins, now stronger than ever. Humanity united with other races and formed their own counterparts, the Seven Heavenly Virtues.

As for War Seeker's Spartans, they left behind a legacy, siring sons and daughters who would surpass them in time. They were revered as the Archdukes of Archlestine, their stories echoing through the ages.

The world, now transformed by the events of War Seeker and his Spartans, stood at the precipice of a new era, where the struggle between good and evil continued, and legends were forged in the crucible of destiny.

The memory of War Seeker, once a god who sought war and conquest, had been rewritten in the new reality. He was now remembered as a malevolent deity who had sided with the devils. His legacy, once celebrated as a rebel who defied fate, had been twisted into something unrecognizable.

The Omniscient One, having rewritten the course of history, watched with satisfaction as his new reality unfolded. He knew that his actions had erased War Seeker from the annals of legend, replacing him with a version that fit his narrative.

But it shall not forget his last message where he will return, the confident words from a dying deity drives him with fear. An irrational fear for when his karma shall be served, a resulting consequence of his own actions. But he shall watch and wait, patiently waiting for when the said Hero will kill him.

As the new world grappled with the disappearance of the gods and the emergence of the Seven Deadly Sins, humanity faced a grave threat. The Sins, now more powerful than ever, posed a formidable challenge.

However, humanity had not been idle during the upheaval caused by the disappearance of the gods. They had united with other races and created their own counterparts to the Sins - the Seven Heavenly Virtues. These virtuous beings stood ready to combat the forces of evil and uphold the principles of righteousness.

Meanwhile, the Spartans who had once fought alongside War Seeker had forged their own legacy. They sired sons and daughters who inherited their strength and resolve. These descendants became known as the Archdukes of Archlestine, and their names became revered throughout the ages.

And those lost fallen Gods that were revered as almighty were turned to sprites that can only spectate the world. Slowly seeping in through the shield of causality, to give their blessings to the humans they once found dirty. All to regain their existence back in the world of Bascias, for the utopian they once lost from the common enemy they despise, now gone to the depths of the abyss; they will surely return.

The world, forever changed by the events of War Seeker and his Spartans, now teetered on the brink of a new era. The struggle between good and evil persisted, and the crucible of destiny continued to forge legends that would endure for generations to come.

In this altered reality, the gods had faded into obscurity, their power and influence replaced by new forces. Humanity, guided by the Seven Heavenly Virtues and the Archdukes of Archlestine, faced the challenges of an uncertain future.

The memory of War Seeker, once a symbol of war and conquest, now lived on in a twisted form, a reminder of the Omniscient One's power to shape destiny. As time passed, the legends of old began to merge with the new, creating a tapestry of myths and stories that would shape the world for millennia to come.

The legacy of War Seeker, the God of War who had sought battles beyond comprehension, now existed as a distorted memory, a cautionary tale of the consequences of defying fate. Yet, his spirit and determination remained, hidden within the hearts of those who refused to accept a world dictated by destiny.

As the world moved forward, the struggle between good and evil continued, and new legends were forged in the ever-evolving crucible of fate. The true impact of War Seeker's actions, his battles, and his unwavering resolve would forever remain a mystery, buried beneath the layers of history and time.