Location: The Forgotten Forge — Where It All BeganDeep beneath the Ashwood mountains, there was once a forge that didn’t temper steel—but tempered souls.This was where Brown was born—not of blood, but of purpose. Not as a king… but as a weapon. A name whispered in rebellion camps, in war prisons, in the silence between battles.But today, the silence ended.The door to the forge groaned open, scorched by time.And Brown stepped inside.His armor was broken. His blade cracked.But his eyes?Still burning.Clara followed close behind, her hands trembling—not from fear, but memory.“I thought you’d never come back here,” she whispered.Brown paused. “Neither did I.”He moved toward the altar where his original sword was laid—The Ember Requiem—the weapon forged when he first defied the Empire.It was still there.Untouched.Waiting.Flashback: The Day of CoronationTen years ago…The war was ov

The Next Morning — Emberfall BurnsThe skies above the Empire’s outer wall were no longer gold—they burned red.A warning fire, sent from the Ashwood encampment, had reached the edge of Emberfall’s skies. The message was clear: Brown was coming.Vaelrik stood on the balcony of his obsidian tower, lips drawn tight.The capital buzzed with panic—priests rushing, generals shouting, nobles fleeing into catacombs of luxury and lies.He turned to his masked priestess. “How much time?”She bowed. “Not enough.”“Then stall them. Use the Riftspawn. Call in the Specter Choir. Sacrifice the gods if you have to.”The priestess hesitated. “And if that fails?”Vaelrik’s gaze darkened.“Then we pray he kills me quickly.”Meanwhile — In the EncampmentClara stood in the war tent, staring at the old, cracked map of the Empire. Her fingers traced along the path to Emberfall, pausing over a forgotten valley.Kael watched her from across the table.“You know what that place is,” he said.Clara didn’t loo

Twelve Years Before the Fall of KonziaEastern Quarry District — Border of Sector 7The rain was relentless.Thick sheets of it pounded the tin roofs and muddied the cracked paths of the quarry camp. There was no moonlight tonight. Only the occasional streaks of lightning that illuminated the black maw of the coal mine — a wide, gaping pit that reeked of sulfur and hopelessness.Brown stood near the rusting pulley lift that would lower him into the darkness. His clothes were soaked, his boots heavy with mud, and the grime of travel clung to every inch of his skin. Around him, a dozen men waited in silence, each carrying the air of the condemned.They were miners — or rather, those too broken or desperate to be anything else. Their cheeks were sunken, their hands blistered, their eyes void of light.One of them muttered, “Don’t look down. You’ll see ghosts.”Brown didn’t respond. He did look down — deep into the black. There was no ghost, only a promise: pain.The foreman approached. H