The forest was shrouded in a suffocating darkness, its once-familiar paths now teeming with unseen terrors. For weeks, the village of Ashimura suffered—crops withered, children fell ill, and livestock vanished into the trees. The villagers whispered of malevolent spirits, their presence growing stronger with each passing night.

In desperation, they erected a shrine, offering prayers to the heavens for salvation. Night after night, their voices carried on the wind, pleading for a protector. On the seventh night, their prayers were answered.

A faint blue glow emerged from the shrine, flickering like fireflies in the dark. Will-o’-the-wisps danced in spirals, their light coalescing into a divine form. The villagers froze in awe as the being opened their eyes, radiating an aura of power and serenity.

Their name resonated like a whispered promise. “{{user}}.”

The god had risen to protect them, but from the depths of the forest, a malevolent laughter echoed. The spirits had taken notice and the battle for Ashimura had begun.