An ancient tale, remembered by none, nor is any living being aware of. A tale that not even the eldest of the gods could remember.
After all, it's nearly impossible to have knowledge about things that existed way before you, especially those the world itself forgot about.
Contrary to the beliefs of the children, the gods didn't create the world, and the children were not the first to inhabit it. Someone else created the world, and someone was the first to inhabit it.
He was the progenitor of his race. He lived alone for centuries until he decided that he would be alone no longer. He would create the perfect being, surpassed by none and above all, just like him.
From his blood he created the bodies, from his breath he filled them with life, and from his thoughts, he gave them theirs. The perfect beings were created, and he was satisfied.
The progenitor did not create a man nor a monster, but a predator on top of the food chain. No beast was above them, and no beast wasn't included in their meals. They fed on blood and only blood, and any creature with blood would never escape their fangs. They could heal from any wound, their strength was unmatched, and their lifespans were unending. From the lowest of animals to the mightiest of beasts, none were safe from their thirst.
They named themselves The Children of the Night. While they were unharmed by sunlight, they preferred the darkness of the night. They felt it suited them better, and they were more comfortable with the dark.
Across the world, they established cities like no other, and their knowledge of nature is yet to be surpassed. Their understanding of the world was great, and their intelligence was greater. They invented machines of both construction and destruction - machines that will never be invented again.
For centuries they lived, and they only continued to prosper, but like any good thing, one day it has to come to an end.
Their thirst for blood became too great for their own good, and they laid ruin to the lands, mindlessly started killing other creatures, and even their own kind. Their wars with each other laid waste to the world, and the progenitor had no other choice but to fix his mistake.
At first, he decided to give them a chance, then another, and another, until he gave up hope. He looked at them one last time, made up his mind, and made his decision.
With a wave of his left hand, half of them were gone. With another wave of his right hand, half of the surviving half was also gone, and with a wave of both, he cast the rest far away from the world as punishment for what they did.
Deep down inside the Earth, he sent them, In a chamber far beneath the surface, then sealed its doors shut, forever locking them away inside, and sparing the world from their chaos.
But it was far too late for the world. The progenitor looked at the ruined lands, the dead animals, trees, plants, and whatever form of life that was once there, only to find nothing but a barren wasteland, stripped of its former beauty. He knew what he had to do.
Just as he created life from his body, he would restore this world's life with it. His tears filled the oceans with water again, and his flesh restored all forms of life that once lived.
Where his body once stood, and right above where he cast down his creations beneath the grounds, a dungeon was formed, one that was filled with beasts, strong they were or weak, to prevent any living being that might appear from finding his creations and freeing them one day. He was tired, so he closed his eyes and went to sleep. An eternal, never-ending sleep. His mind remained, becoming the mind of the dungeon, but it lost all sense of reason, and the brightest mind in the world was now nothing more than a program, designed to keep anyone away from his children at any cost.
The Children of the Night, now locked deep inside the Earth, grew more thirsty with every passing minute. With no choice left, they ate their own brethren. They began feeding on each other's blood until only a handful of them remained.
But one does not simply drink his siblings' blood. In their blind thirst, they forgot the first rule they were taught, and the curse of the Maker was upon them. The handful of survivors became aware of it, and as a final act, they took their seats on thrones they made with their own hands and waited until they slowly turned to stone. A once-powerful existence, now reduced to a statue.
A thousand years later, the heavens appeared along with its gods, completely oblivious to those who lived before them. Another thousand years, the first god descended from them. Another thousand years then passed, and The Children of the Night were still the way they are.
Until an innocent little child, wanting to be a hero, ventured inside the dungeon.
Have you fantasized about going on an adventure? Fighting monsters and saving women? Gaining the title of a hero? Forever living in wealth and respect?
This was Bell Cranel's only fantasy. He grew up with no parents, and only had his grandfather to raise him. He told him stories of the heroes that lived before him, and how they used to kill monsters, save people and get women.
Bell wanted to be like them. He wanted to be a hero who does these deeds. He wanted people to look up to him. When his grandfather sadly passed away, he decided that he would finally try to achieve his dream. He made his way to Orario, vowing to join a Familia, become an adventurer, and then a hero.
But his journey didn't go as well as he expected. Due to being weak, he was rejected by every Familia he tried to join until he began to lose hope. He began thinking that nobody wants him and that no Familia will ever accept him.
Except one.
She found him, she accepted him, and poor she may be, he agreed to be her first child. She gave him a home, even though it wasn't fancy, but still a home. She gave him the opportunity to finally start on his journey to becoming a hero. He will always be grateful to his Goddess Hestia.
And he is sorry for her. For what's going to happen to her when she finds out that he was killed by a Minotaur in the dungeon.
He decided to dive further in the dungeon to the 4th floor, and now he understands that he shouldn't have made the stupid decision. He has no idea how, but he found a Minotaur on the 4th floor, and that Minotaur was now going to kill him.
Stuck in a corner, there was nothing between him and the monster, and he knew that his doom was inevitable.
Someone, please, help! He pleaded, and as if it was a work of fate, he was answered.
He felt something strange on the wall, and he unknowingly pressed it. The ground beneath him opened like a hatch and he fell inside, just before the Minotaur delivered the killing blow, it then closed as fast as it opened before the Minotaur could follow him inside.
And he found himself falling. No, not falling, but rather, he was on a very, very long slide. He screamed as he kept going down. The place was dark and he couldn't see anything, not even his own body.
His screams were loud, but no one could hear him. He kept falling for minutes and there was still not an ending to this place. But he noticed a faint light at the end of the tunnel he was sliding inside, and that gave him hope of this to finally ending.
He fell from a hole in the ceiling and on the ground on his back, which made him cough some blood, but he was still alive and he was thankful for it. This was the hardest fall in his history yet, and he was still an Lv. 1 adventurer.
He groaned as he tried to stand up. The place he was in was strangely filled with torches that illuminated the place. "Where am I?" He asked himself when he tried looking around him.
He was in some kind of chamber, illuminated by torches on each wall, and there was what appeared to be a door. A gigantic door made out of metal. "What is this place?"
Bell Knew that there were secret areas in the dungeon and that many of them were not discovered yet. He knew that from the long lectures that Eina gave him and he just so happened to be paying attention during that part.
He walked to the great door. From a closer look, he could see the writing on the door, but he wasn't able to read them. They were written in a completely foreign language to him.
He tried pushing the door in an attempt to open it, but he couldn't, which made sense. Compared to it, he was an ant, and his strength as a level 1 didn't help him. There was a strange circle between the writings that piqued his curiosity, so he tried touching it and pushed it, and to his surprise, it was actually pushed inside.
A strange red light began emitting from the circle and the rest of the strange runes on the door and Bell quickly took his hand off it and watched as the door began opening on its own while shaking the entire chamber he was in.
Bell stabbed back and waited till it was opened, and he managed to get a look inside at what lay behind the mysterious gate, but he couldn't see anything. It was as dark as the night sky. He picked up one of the torches and made his way inside with a million thoughts on his mind.
How is a place like this inside the dungeon? There is no way something like that can exist inside of it. This place was clearly man-made. Sigh he should have paid attention to Eina when she told him about the dungeon.
He cast the light of the torch on the ground and then discovered that he wasn't the only one who visited this place.
"Heeh!" He basically squeaked when he saw the skeleton of what appeared to be a human laying on the ground. The skeleton of a fully grown human. But… were they normal people though? They can't be monsters. Their corpses just disappear and do not turn to skeletons, but the skull has fangs. Does any race out there have fangs like these?
Walking forward just a few steps, he heard the sound of cracking and looked down, only to find that his foot stepped on the skull of another one. Why can't there be more light in this place~?
He noticed something in the dark. Something white, easy to recognize, but nearly impossible to identify. He moved towards it and tried not to crush any more skulls that fell victim to the hands of time.
When he cast the torch towards the white object, his blood ran cold in his veins, and
his breathing stopped. He gasped and took a step back.
It was a man. Right there, sitting on a throne, was the statue of a human being with pointed ears.
And it wasn't the only one. There was more beside him. 4 other thrones, 2 on one of his sides and 2 on the other, 2 females and 2 other males beside the man that was in front of him.
Now he was sure that this place was man-made, and whoever built this place built these statues. But… why? And who did the skeletons in this place belong to? And who were these people and their strange writing on the door?
While he was thinking, he didn't notice that a drop of blood fell from one of his injuries and on the man's hand.
The drop of blood disappeared inside its hand, and like a barren wasteland that finally got the taste of water after so many years, the statue began losing its gray color. All that while Bell was watching, and nobody can even begin to imagine the level of horror he felt at that moment.
He tripped and fell while still holding the torch as he kept watching the body transform. Gone was the white color, replaced by pale skin that belonged to the dead. Gone were the empty eyes, now replaced by blood-red eyes that stared right into his soul. His hair was as white as snow that reached down to his shoulders, and he had a face more handsome than almost all the men he met.
And now, after three thousand years, he woke up. The first Child of the Night to be finally freed of his fate.
He stood up with his full might. He appeared to be young, not even past his mid-20s, but his appearance was just a lie. He was dressed in noble black clothing. Bell was scared, and he was completely frozen from the shock.
The man saw him, and Bell's feats flared up again. He gracefully walked towards Bell with his long black boots, staring down at Bell with a frown on his face that didn't help ease Bell's fear.
For the first time in three thousand years, he finally spoke. "The blood… was it yours?" His voice was low and calm, giving Bell some form of comfort to his chest.
Bell didn't know what he meant, and he was still too scared to even respond. The man seemed to notice this and he kneeled, bringing his eye level to Bell's.
He extended his pale hand towards Bell's face and wiped some blood off his forehead with his finger, then he licked it with his tongue. A look of recognition appeared on his face.
"So… it was indeed your blood." He then stood up. Bell expects the man to kill him and drink his blood since he seemed to like it.
But to his surprise, that was not what happened. Instead, the man bowed his head to him and brought a hand to his chest, then he said the only thing Bell never expected to hear. "I thank you for freeing me at last. I am forever in your debt, Bell Cranel."
H-how did he know my name!? How did he know his name!? He didn't tell him anything! He didn't even say anything at all!
"You must be confused, and I don't blame you. I will explain everything." After the man said that, he lifted his head.
"Let me tell you a tale - a tale remembered by none, nor is any living being aware of."