Every nation on earth paid the gods tribute. Atlantis stopped needing them — and the gods answered with a flood. Raise a Clan, arm it, and take the gods apart one at a time.
Four things happened, in this order. Nothing else about this game makes sense until you know them.
Every nation on earth paid them tribute, because every nation needed something only a god could give. Not Atlantis: its smiths forged edges that cut the immortal, its healers mended what others could only pray over.
The gods answered with a flood.
You never fight yourself. You recruit Atlanteans, raise them, arm them, and send them through the Meridian to face the gods one at a time — four Gatekeepers first, then forty gods, eight to a pantheon.
The flood the gods meant as an execution is the last step of the Ascension. Beating the gods is only half of it — the power passes to the one Clan that outlasts every other Clan as well. That Clan ascends and becomes Atlantheos: Atlanteans who are gods.
Each round you pick one zone to strike and one to guard. The god picks at the same moment, and neither of you sees the other. Fight him yourself — right here.
Everything he wears has ten steps, and his weapon — the Form — has ten of its own. A step goes on sale only once the god who opens it has fallen. Watch a piece climb.
Healing, poison, wards and the counters to a god's one trick. Every one of them is on sale from your first minute — nothing here is ever locked behind a god.
Five classes, ten ranks each, Initiate to Divine. Each breaks a different kind of god, and each pays for it. No single Atlantean beats all forty-four — that is what a Clan is for.
Vitality falls after every fight, and a spent Atlantean is stopped at the door, not sent in weakened. Rest one champion and send another.
One Atlantean against one god for the whole game — except there, where the strength of the others flows into whoever is standing.
Four Gatekeepers first, then forty gods, eight to a pantheon. The doors part, and they come out one at a time.
He is not the eighth god of the Celestial Pantheon — he is what stands after it. The door to him does not turn until every pantheon is broken and all twenty Artifacts are in your hands.
In the Celestial Pantheon the whole Clan fights through one champion: the strength of every Atlantean you own flows into the one standing there. The larger your Clan, the greater the fighter who faces him.
There is nothing after him.
Four to a pantheon, torn from beaten gods. Watch the collection fill. If the gods will not drop what your champion needs, Essence buys it from someone the gods were kinder to.
Artifacts open the gate of the Celestial Pantheon. Until then the fifth pantheon stays shut, no matter how strong your Clan is.
All twenty open Pangu. There is no other way to reach him, and no other reason to collect every one.
Every coin does one job, and no coin does another's. Only one of them is bought with money.
The everyday coin, paid out by every god you beat. Starter gear, supplies, healing.
Every tiered piece of gear, every Form, and every Atlantean you recruit. The only coin that costs real money.
From beaten gods and nowhere else. They buy exactly one thing: rest.
The currency of legends, spent on the Artifact Market between Clans.
The strength of a fallen pantheon passes to one Clan only. So the next pantheon is not the first Clan to beat the gods, but the last one still standing.
Five leagues are five heights. Your clan starts at the bottom of the stair — and every rival you take is one step up.
Beat a clan standing above you and you climb faster. Beat one far below and you climb not at all.
The Arena pays in height alone — and height is the only thing that decides who ascends.
Wear one, and the ladder changes under you: harder rivals, every win worth double.
Break the four who came before the gods. Break five pantheons, gather twenty Artifacts, and stand in front of Pangu. Then outlast every other Clan — that is the law. One Clan ascends and becomes Atlantheos: Atlanteans who are gods.
Beaten once, a god is gone for good. It never heals, and it never rises again.
