The chaos in his mind had ceased. The clearing fell silent — as if the very world awaited his decision. Lutero breathed deeply, his golden eyes fixed on the sky between the treetops. He didn't know where he was. He didn't know who — or what — had brought them here. Perhaps there was no "who" at all. But one thing was certain: the empire of the High Elves had fallen. And he would raise it again. Not as a character in a game. But as the Supreme High Elf he had always been — in soul, in power, in destiny.
Resolute, Lutero turned to the Silver — his closest and most loyal companions.
"I don't know where we are," he said, his voice firm, though heavy with sorrow. "Nor what happened. But our beloved empire... is gone. From what I understand, we were torn from Yggdrasil. This world is different. But there's something in it... familiar."
He stepped forward, his gaze sweeping across each face before him.
"If this is a new world, then it shall be the cradle of a new empire. And you, my loyal ones, will be the pillars that uphold it."
Lutero raised his hand, as if sealing a pact with destiny itself.
"From this moment on, we are no longer survivors. We are conquerors. And I... am your beloved and only emperor."
A reverent silence settled over the clearing after Lutero's words. It was as if even the wind had paused to listen.
Adric was the first to move. He knelt with grace, hand over heart, his eyes gleaming with restrained emotion and thirst for knowledge.
"If this world is new, then let it witness the splendor of the High Elves. I will follow you, my emperor... as I always have."
Ragnar hesitated for a moment, his gaze lost among the trees.
"The old world..." he murmured. "We fought so hard for it."
Then, with a deep sigh, he knelt beside Adric.
"May this new world be even more glorious. Let those who oppose our rebirth burn."
Elyra walked toward Lutero with light, almost dancing steps.
"I felt something had changed... but I didn't know it was destiny."
She knelt with a serene smile.
"If you are the emperor, then this world shall be our home. And I will make it beautiful."
Nyssia watched in silence, the vial in her hand pulsing with living energy.
"The magic here... it's different. Purer."
She stepped forward and knelt with a restrained gesture.
"If we are to rebuild, let it be with wisdom. And with power that shall never be forgotten."
Althaea did not kneel immediately. Her violet eyes were fixed on something beyond — perhaps spirits, perhaps memories.
"The echoes of the old empire still live within us."
At last, she knelt, as one who accepts an ancestral calling.
"Let this new world see us for what we are: eternal."
Roberth was the last. He knelt without words, his gaze firm and unwavering.
There was no doubt in his eyes. Only loyalty.
Cassiel had been there all along. Silent. Invisible to common eyes, yet ever present.
While the Silver knelt, he stood beneath the shadow of an ancient tree, his ruby-red eyes locked onto Lutero with absolute focus. His dark cloak fluttered gently in the wind, as if the world itself respected his stillness.
He didn't need words to show loyalty. But in that moment, he spoke — and his voice sliced through the silence like a sharpened blade.
"The empire fell... but it was never forgotten," Cassiel said, unmoving. "I served in the shadows. I killed at your command. I protected what was ours."
He stepped forward, and even the Silver fell silent before his presence.
"If this world is new... then it shall be marked by the blood of those who dare oppose us."
Cassiel finally knelt, slowly and deliberately.
"You are the emperor. And I am your blade and your shadow."
Lutero met his gaze with quiet respect. Cassiel was not merely an assassin. He was the embodiment of absolute loyalty — and the force that moves unseen.
Lutero looked upon them, one by one, feeling the weight and strength of that moment.
The empire had fallen.
But there, in that clearing, among unknown trees and living magic...
It had been reborn.
Lutero walked slowly through the forest, his golden eyes analyzing every detail of the terrain. Light filtered through the canopy above.
After following a trail wrapped in ancient roots and enchanted moss, he arrived at a wide, silent clearing — the heart of the forest.
At its center stood a colossal tree. Its roots intertwined like living walls, and its branches reached the heavens as if conversing with the gods. Its bark was adorned with natural floral vines, and an ancestral energy pulsed from its trunk.
Beside the tree, a crystalline lake reflected the sky with perfection. Its clear waters revealed silver fish gliding gently near the shore, as if guarding the place. The air there was lighter, purer — saturated with magic.
Lutero stopped. Silent. He felt the ground vibrate beneath his feet, as if the world acknowledged his presence.
"Here..." he murmured. "Here it shall begin."
He approached the tree and touched its bark with his palm. A gentle pulse ran through his fingers — a silent greeting.
"This shall be the throne of the new empire. The palace of the High Elves. The cradle of eternity."
Behind him, the Silver approached in silence, gazing upon the place with reverence. None dared speak. They knew: this moment was not merely a choice. It was a sealed destiny.
"This place..." he murmured. "Has magic in its roots. Silence in its stones. Space to grow."
He turned to the Silver, now assembled before him, awaiting orders.
"This shall be the heart of the new empire. The first stone. The first vow."
With a firm gesture, Lutero raised his hand and began to name them:
Adric Silver, the tireless scholar, would be the Supreme Archivist — tasked with recording, preserving, and expanding the empire's magical and historical knowledge.
Ragnar Silver, the greatest swordsman alive, would be the Commander of the Elven Legions, responsible for forming and training the new army.
Elyra Silver, with her grace and sensitivity, would be the Guardian of Harmony, healer and imperial saint, as she had been before the fall.
Nyssia Silver, brilliant alchemist and archmage, would be the Mistress of Essences, charged with exploring and mastering the living magic of this world.
Althaea Silver, medium and companion of spirits, would be the Imperial Seer, spiritual advisor and interpreter of the unseen.
Roberth Silver, the protector, would be the Master of the Frontiers, responsible for mapping, defending, and expanding the empire's borders.
Cassiel, the loyal shadow, would be the Executor of the Imperial Will — the invisible hand of justice, espionage, and absolute protection.
Lutero then stepped to the center of the clearing and touched the ground with his palm. A gentle magical pulse spread outward, as if the world confirmed his authority.
"May this soil accept us. May this world fear us. May this empire never fall."
The Silver knelt in a circle around him, and for the first time, the new High Elven Empire drew breath.
Lutero stood before the ancestral tree, feeling the magical pulse emanating from its roots. The lake beside it mirrored the sky perfectly, and the silver fish swam in slow circles.
"This place has chosen us," he said, quietly but firmly. "And now, we shall consecrate it."
He raised both hands, and a silvery aura began to envelop his body. The ancient magic, once bound to the commands of a player, now flowed freely — alive, instinctive, powerful.
"May the earth recognize us. May the sky bless us. May time respect us."
Adric and Nyssia stepped forward, each carrying a piece of root — fragments of Yggdrasil they had unknowingly brought with them. Lutero received them and placed them in a circle around the tree, marking the cardinal points.
Nyssia whispered incantations, and the roots began to glow with a soft light.
Adric traced runes into the soil with a silver staff, each symbol pulsing with ancient knowledge.
Elyra offered her healing magic to the tree in ritual, which responded with a gentle, vibrant green glow.
Althaea summoned forest spirits, who appeared as floating lights and hovered silently, watching.
Cassiel, silent, remained hidden among the trees. He did not build. He watched.
Lutero knelt before the tree and placed both hands on the ground.
"Let this be the heart of the empire.
Let this tree be our throne.
Let this lake be our memory."
A wave of energy surged through the clearing. The roots connected to the tree. The runes ignited. The air vibrated with a new force — not just magical, but imperial.
The Silver knelt in a circle, and Lutero stood at the center.
A splendid palace of wood, stone, and crystal rose around the tree.