AFC 87 - Present
By the end of the Age of Advancement, humanity’s optimism had begun to fray. Technological miracles had become commonplace, superhuman individuals walked openly among the population, and alien contact (while still rare) was no longer unthinkable. Yet beneath this progress, fear and ambition grew in equal measure.
The turning point came with a covert operation that would later be regarded as the greatest political miscalculation in modern history. The Free States of Terra, driven by a mixture of strategic paranoia and corporate influence, attempted to reshape the Grand Principality of Varysk from within. Through clandestine agents, proxy actors, and enhanced operatives, they supported a coup aimed at removing Varysk’s ruling house and forcing the principality into ideological and technological alignment.
In a single night, the ancient ruling house of Varysk was almost entirely wiped out. Palaces burned, bloodlines ended, and centuries of tradition collapsed. Only one survived: the young princess, spared by circumstance, loyalty, and powers that would later become both her shield and her burden. To the people of Varysk, this was not a failed political maneuver, it was an act of annihilation. Trust in diplomacy, democracy, and foreign ideals shattered overnight.
Varysk did not respond immediately. There was no declaration of war, no mass mobilization. Instead, the Principality waited. When the response came, it was precise and devastating. Varyskian superheroes and covert assets targeted a massive Singularium-powered installation deep within the Free States of Terra, an engine of energy, industry, and experimental research. Its destruction triggered a cascading collapse that no one fully understood until it was too late. An entire state was lost: cities erased, land rendered uninhabitable, millions displaced or dead. The Free States denounced the act as terrorism. Varysk framed it as retribution. The rest of the world saw only the terrifying scale of what modern power had become.
In the aftermath, neither side could afford open war. The Grand Principality of Varysk stood on the edge of internal collapse. Noble houses questioned the legitimacy of the surviving princess, regional leaders tested the limits of loyalty, and whispers of uprising spread through the realm. The princess became the keystone holding the Principality together. Should she fall (or be seen as weak) Varysk would likely tear itself apart.
The Free States of Terra, meanwhile, turned outward. To the world, they presented a carefully crafted image of restraint, unity, and peace. Behind closed doors, however, their leadership worked tirelessly to contain the political fallout, suppress dissent, and ensure that no similar disaster could ever be used against them again. Singularium research continued, but with greater secrecy and more deniable applications.
Thus began an era defined not by open conflict, but by tension. Both powers avoided direct confrontation, instead engaging in proxy wars, shadow operations, economic pressure, and superhuman interventions that could always be disavowed. Smaller nations were drawn into spheres of influence. Corporate interests, intelligence agencies, and enhanced individuals became weapons as potent as armies.
Alien contact increased during this time. New species were encountered, trade routes opened, and off-world technologies entered human hands. Neither the Free States nor the Grand Principality of Varysk fully trusted these developments, yet both sought to exploit them. The Free States did so openly, through alliances and commerce. Varysk moved in the shadows, adapting foreign technologies to their own purposes while publicly denouncing their origins.
The Age of Division was not marked by banners or declarations. It arrived quietly, carried on broken trust, silent borders, and the understanding that the next mistake could end far more than a single state. Humanity had survived its greatest leap forward, but it now lived with the knowledge of how easily that progress could be turned into catastrophe.