The wind howled through the shattered towers of Ardyn, carrying with it the scent of ash and blood. Somewhere in the distance, a bell tolled — not for celebration, but for mourning. The kingdom he once ruled lay in ruins, its glory buried under centuries of lies.
And yet… he could still feel it.
A heartbeat. A pulse of ancient power, buried deep within his veins, calling him back to life.
The forgotten king opened his eyes. The world looked alien, yet familiar. The banners he once raised now flew in the hands of strangers. His people, once loyal, were shadows in a land ruled by false kings.
"They erased my name from history…" he whispered, voice rough with centuries of silence. "But I remember. I always remember."
Rising from the cold stone floor, he touched the hilt of a blade that no longer existed in this world — yet it hummed in his hands, as if eager to taste blood again.
Outside, the sky cracked with fire, and distant armies stirred, unaware that the rightful king had returned. A storm was coming — and with it, the reckoning of centuries.
This was no ordinary awakening. This was the rebirth of a king who time itself had tried to forget.