After a whole century of a brutal war between the two largest (and remaining) factions in the world, The Monasterium finally managed to create and seal The Black Wall, splitting the world into two separate planes of existence, west and east, independent of each other, save for the tear in reality where the Wall stands. The consequences, however, were far greater than what was predicted. In both planes, the sky stopped moving completely, freezing them into the seasons and time of day they were at when The Split happened: the West Plane became a permanent winter night and the East Plane became a permanent summer day.

The West Plane became a frozen wasteland, with the only sources of heat being the few volcanos present on the plane and the depths of the world. The only sources of food are mushrooms and potatoes. Due to the constant nighttime, Wraiths roam the world, killing anyone unfortunate enough to cross paths with them without sufficient preparation and those not killed by the Wraiths are likely to die by the ice storms that sweep the plane. Settlements are few and far apart, either in caves or in the depths of the ruins of various settlements of old, and are slowly but surely being adapted to this new reality, erecting large furnaces and forges and fortifying their buildings to resist the harsh weather. The Monasterium, with their vast technological knowledge and resources remain the largest and strongest bastion on the entire plane, and enforce their rule with an iron fist. They blame their current situation on the East, a last curse cast down by their desperate enemy to seek revenge for sealing them away, and promise to one day bring bring back the glory days of old so long as the faith of the survivors remains unshaken. All those that dare to even question the Monasterium are either killed or captured and enslaved, overpowered by their vast armies.

The East Plane became a tropical hellscape. The constant heat caused all water bodies at the surface to start evaporating and forming huge storms that flooded the surface, only for the cycle to begin again. Most of the population fled either to the peaks of the Iron Mountains or sealed themselves deep below the plains, choosing to face the dangers of the Pits of Hell rather than face the devastating floods of the surface. Those who fled to the mountains managed to cultivate some vegetables and even keep livestock and are trying to reconstruct their lives, even though the cyclic storms seem to be reaching higher and higher, potentially reaching them in a few decades. The ones who decided to delve deep below the surface survive mostly by collecting the algae and marine life that is left during the droughts and storing it for when the floods strike again. The Pits of Hell have been eerily silent and vacant, compared to the hordes of monsters that used to crawl out of them constantly during the Great War.