They said the Empire was eternal.
They said its Emperor ruled by divine right, his voice second only to the gods, his throne guarded by angels in flesh—the Archons.
But empires do not fall by war.
They decay from within.
Beneath the ivory towers of the Imperial Citadel, a lone figure stood in silence, watching the city drown in moonlight. His cloak whispered with the wind, like a shadow that refused to sleep.
He did not belong to this world. Not anymore.
His name was Kael. No titles. No lands. No bloodline.
And yet, kings feared him.
Heroes fell before him.
Even the Queen of the Abyss whispered his name with a hunger that burned through dimensions.
He wasn't born a monster.
He chose to become one.
"Let the gods play their games," Kael murmured, staring at the night sky.
"I'm not here to win their favor.
I'm here to end the board."
In the palace halls, the Empress read a letter written in elegant ink. Her hands trembled—not from fear, but from thrill. The words were not a threat.
They were a promise.
"By the time you read this, your enemies will already be mine.
The Emperor still believes he commands the Empire.
Let him.
A throne means nothing when you control the soul of the court."
"—K"
She smiled, folding the letter with trembling fingers.
Far away, the once-glorious Hero knelt in a forgotten cave, his hands stained with the blood of those he once swore to protect. He looked up, eyes hollow.
"Kael... what have you done to me?"
Above it all, divine eyes watched—the Archons, celestial judges sworn to balance.
But even they hesitated.
There was something unnatural about this mortal.
Something that didn't belong in the light or the dark.
He was not a king.
Not a savior.
Not a god.
He was Kael—the one who whispered in kings' ears, shattered prophecies, and made even fate itself kneel.
And his game had just begun.
[END PROLOGUE]