At the beginning of the Fifth Era, the Dayless Catastrophe descended. The Silver Court collapsed into a pale silhouette, time ground the empire into dust, the Sea of ​​Origin still roared, the boiling tide gnawed at the boundaries of reality day and night, washing the fragments of civilization into sharp despair. After dark millennia after dark millennia, the banners of the Three Sages were also broken in the twelfth expedition. The Iron Father's furnace was as cold and silent as a tomb, the philosophers' treetops shed tears of blood, and the pioneers' torches hissed and turned into blue smoke in the rainstorm. From then on, the world was completely divided, the city-states were isolated from each other, and there was no time for unity. ... "We will set out from now on, along the Corridor of Dawn, through the triple rings, unite all the city-states, and launch another expedition to the dark world. - Swear to end the long night."

This is a damn Victorian fantasy novel.

Add a spoonful of steam engines to get that damned tech tree moving! Add a spoonful of love and hate to give everyone a good reason to fight! Add a spoonful of madness to lighten up this gloomy world, and finally, add a spoonful of natural disasters as the main boss… Wait! Bloody hell, I poured too much!

…

Year 931 of the Envirg Calendar.

The city I live in has been named the most advanced city in the West. The main reason? Steam technology, the source of both groundbreaking innovation and utter chaos, has turned the world upside down. It’s undeniable. Yet, despite this, people still flock here in droves. This city always offers a glimmer of hope, whether it’s a lie or an illusion. It’s so close, seemingly within reach, that people are willing to risk everything for it. A city of illusions.

And I am one of those dream chasers.

"Hello, my name is Borogo Lazarus, a debtor."

The wounds on Boluogo's face were healing at a speed visible to the naked eye. The blood remaining on the face flowed back, and the skin was rejoined, as if going back in time.

Facing the demon who was dying of fear, he whispered.

"This is my 'gift' and my 'debt'."

…

Sixty-six years ago, with the end of the Wrath of the Scorched Earth, the Oath City Opos rose from the ruins of the Holy City.

Sixty-six years later, the Kogadel Empire and the Rhine League, two behemoths across the continent, are planning another war that will engulf all things.

The Bureau of Order, the King's Secret Sword, the Monks of Truth, the Orangutan Sect, the Secret Groups...the entities lurking in the shadows of history are trying to join this grand carnival.

Under the curtain, the devils enjoy the pain of mortals, taste the value of sacrifice, play with fate, and grant curses and blessings.

Watching the mortals who are the same kind, hating and killing each other...