Smoke still drifted across the horizon days after Ahce and Reichardt fled the capital. The once-glittering towers of the royal district now stood scorched and fractured, black scars marking the palace spires like claw-marks of a dying beast. Rumors of the battle spread faster than any decree, twisting and reshaping the truth until every tavern, guild hall, and aristocratic parlor whispered a different tale.
Some spoke of a psychic witch who shattered the palace with a single scream.
Others of a crimson-eyed duke who carved through holy knights as though they were made of paper.
But the most persistent rumor was the one whispered beneath breath, exchanged in dread rather than awe:
"The Soul-Merged Duke has awakened."
And his Duchess—the woman of two fates—walks beside him.
