Location: Berlin, Neo-German Confederation Zone
The great dome of the Reichstag stood hollowed, half-consumed by vines and artillery scars. Yet, beneath its shadow, thousands had gathered—not in protest or despair, but in awe.
A youth stood atop a makeshift stage, clothed in a deep-blue uniform that echoed the Imperial Prussian cut. His hair was blond, his eyes a piercing steely gray. He spoke not like a populist—but like a monarch.
"I remember the fire. I remember the betrayal. I remember the crown torn from my brow—not by the people, but by vultures."
He raised his hand, and the crowd quieted.
"My name... is Wilhelm Friedrich. And I am the return. The rebirth. The Kaiser Reborn."
Gasps. Whispers. The camera feeds blinked alive, satellites capturing the speech and broadcasting it far and wide. Social media exploded. Conspiracy theorists, historians, monarchists, and even secular military commanders in fractured German zones were captivated.
What made it stranger? His power.
He had awakened just months ago—his Skill: "Imperial Resonance"—allowed him to project powerful commands to those with weakened will, sway crowds, and call forth "phantom memories" of imperial pasts. In trials, even hardened soldiers felt a momentary connection, a "familiarity" with his presence—as though they had once followed him.
Vienna – Ehrenfeld-Austrian Imperial Council Room
Hans watched the broadcast from a war room with Eliska, Engelhardt, Mehmed, and several new governors.
Eliska muttered, "This could be trouble. He speaks like you did—before the crown."
Engelhardt folded his arms. "We've got generals defecting from our border zones. Some of the Central German remnants are aligning with him."
Hans leaned forward, pausing the screen on Wilhelm's face.
"This isn't just charisma. It's a Skill-Class power. Possibly 'Ruler' or a spiritual derivation. Imperial Resonance..."
Mehmed offered a cautious grin. "Or it's just a kid playing dress-up with delusions. But… the people believe in him."
Later That Night – Hans' Private Study
Hans sat alone, pouring over reports. Some generals—minor ones—had indeed pledged allegiance to the "Neo-German Imperial Revival." The man calling himself Wilhelm Friedrich had taken Leipzig without resistance. Refugees flowed to his banner.
Then, a sealed envelope arrived—delivered by a falcon from the north.
Inside was a handwritten note.
To the Emperor of the East,We are not enemies.You are rebuilding order from fire.So am I.The world needs monarchs again—not bureaucrats. Should your Iron Crown wish an audience with the Steel Laurel, come to the Rhine.Long Live the Kaiser.– Wilhelm Friedrich
Hans stared at the letter.
A rival?
A potential ally?
A madman?
Or… a mirror?