Gotteshände

In the mid-eighteenth century, the treasured prime of the Age of Enlightenment, a brutal and relentless conflict for total supremacy raged across vast continents–the Seven Years’ War. What sparked such bloodshed was not a sole cause; it was an inevitability. The consequence of a persistent history of fierce competition, unsettled disputes, and self-righteousness amongst the world’s greatest powers.

The Kingdom of Prussia was one of the few among the elite. A nation forged in the depths of hell. Its foundation was built on unrivaled militarism–a diamond envied for its radiance. Yet despite its might, it was haunted by the looming threat of the Anti-Prussian Coalition: The French, the Austrians, and the Russians. War was certain. Consequently, Prussia struck first, launching a bold invasion into Saxony to secure its position. In doing so, it provoked the wrath of the coalition, soon joined by others eager to tear Prussia apart. Save for its distant ally–Britain, across the Channel.

Yet, amidst the flames of battle, lit a unique spark–not of blackpowder, but the blaze of the ‘unfeasible.’ In the wintry fields of Eastern Prussia, in a quiet village buried deep in the woods, a child was born–the first Gotteshände.

When of age, he displayed a keen, unnatural perception, able to ‘witness’ the very composition of the ‘soul,’ to study even individual impossibilities. Believed to be ‘gifted’ with the eyes of ‘God.’ Thus, he was ceaselessly praised, hailed as a divine messenger by his village for years. At merely seven–proudly–the boy continued to extend his assistance and wisdom, acting as a sage. And yet, that status quo was shattered following the incident. One morning, the mother–the lone parent–of the boy had suddenly perished.

Abnormally, there was no true ‘cause’ to her death: Blood, wounds, disease–all were absent. She had simply ‘passed.’ And that bare reality spread unbridled hysteria among the village-folk. Her demise rapidly devolved into a dreaded enigma; yet the people believed that, doubtlessly, this was the design of something inhuman. And so, unable to rationalize the ‘impossible,’ they went and condemned a being that embodied it–the boy who wielded divinity in his sight. He who was praised fell into dismay.

One moment, one day, one fear was all it took. The boy, who himself was dismally grieving her loss, was brutally seized the next dawn, and ultimately punished for his ‘crime.’ Alas, atop a steep cliff overlooking the entirety of that village, whose ever-observing populace and their screams of fear-driven conviction echoed through the morning breeze, marked a shallow end. That fateful day, the first Gotteshände–the boy–was burned at the stake, his agony eternally stained.

But as a grim solace washed over the still village, his ashes, onward from the devouring flames, were scattered about the sapphire sky, his sacred gift followed.

Mysteriously, since his death, various people across distinct lands gradually began to awaken powers–Gotteshände of their own, spreading as rapidly as a plague. These abilities varied in their appearances, versatility, and overall strength. However, they all shared a commonality, under the Three Classifications, a system instituted by German philosopher Immanuel Kant, aiming to rationalize the extraordinary early on.

The First Class: Körperlich. Abilities that mingle with the physical attributes of its user. They represent an immense vigor, and are the most prevalent of all Gotteshände.

The Second Class: Seele. Abilities that mingle with the spiritual attributes of its user and or others. They esteemedly represent value and worth among Gotteshände.

The Third Class: Unnatürlich. Abilities that tamper beyond physicality and or spirituality. Those who harbor such power are best left forgotten.

The spontaneous emergence of Gotteshände laid the world into utterly foreign mayhem, with Europe at its center. Permanently scarring the old order with a fatal wound. Gotteshände were detested and abused by those fearful. Rampant poverty and gnawing sickness alike burgeoned. Numerous conflicts and disputes between Gotteshände and Men arose fiercely, yet often ended in mutual destruction. Crowns shattered under their hubris, their kingdoms buried in rubble. Thus, between the late eighteenth century and the rise of the nineteenth, the world was sunken in a dire period of uncertainty, known notoriously as ′The Sundering Years.′

However, with the piling exhaustion of more than thirty years of incessant war, the blood of dead men shaping an endless crimson river, the countless grievances haunting both sides, and the common, searing contempt that amassed this insanity, all lost purpose. And soon, though wary, the world was alas ceasing its fangs. Across nations, Gotteshände were gradually accepted, integrated into society anew. With the reconnection of men and the newfound possibilities Gotteshände brought, mankind began its drastic advance, steadily recovering from ′The Sundering Years.′

Yet, beneath the mellow peace long yearned, once more seeds of discord began to sprout briskly. In the dawn of the twentieth century, the ever-fragile connection between nations foretold the storm of a greater conflict–a deadlier crisis than that of ′The Sundering Years.′ A war whose initial cause would surpass mere dominance and ambitions. A ruinous war of merciless survival and blind forlorn. Where both Gotteshände and Men fought together and against one another.

The Great War.