Long before the Rune Wars, in the flourishing city of Shurima, Eunja, a healer, sought to develop a universal cure for every known ailment. In order to achieve his goal, he surveyed every single possible ingredient in the region of Shurima and tested it on himself, but to no avail.
Despaired, he wandered around the floating pyramids, the only place he could find solace in. It was then when he caught sight of an unusual plant. A lone flower was swaying in the hot breeze, its shape and coloring out of this world. No plant would have survived in this area where sandstorms are frequent. An idea lit in his mind; he immediately extracted the essence of the flower and collected it in a vial. Swirling the vial around, he added ingredients derived from organisms impervious to certain diseases. The resultant was a transparent liquid, which he downed with no hesitation. Eunja then waited for changes to happen, only to find his expectations betrayed. After multiple combinations that ended in failures, he finally came to a conclusion that a universal cure was impossible.
Suddenly, a wave of magic rushed through the whole area, followed by a scream of rage and dismay. Eunja felt as if his body was being sieved through a filter, each of his cells reacting to his earlier concoction and the large amount of magic power. When he came to, everything has changed. Decades has passed when he was unconscious, the Shurima he knew ceased to exist. The unusual combination of the magic and concoction had rendered his body eternally young and no need for self-sustenance, which was more than what he could hope for. However, everything has its price, with the price of eternal youth being paid with most of his emotions. Everyone he has known has gone, all he can now feel is sadness.
In order to look for a remedy, he travelled from regions to regions, making friends (as well as enemies) with the locals. He witnessed the rise and fall of civilization, the birth and death of his friends and all he could do was to watch and grieve. As strange as it may seem, the sadness fueled his power, as well as slowly eroding away what’s left of his humanity. As Eons passed, he learnt to appreciate the beauty of sadness and mastered the art of channeling his dreary emotions. In order to transcend to higher peaks, he ventured to the place as cold as his heart: the Freljord. For Centuries he trained in the relentless mountains of Freljord, until the League came to promise him greater heights, in return for his services.
“It is not blood, but melancholia that courses through my veins”