The forest whispered in a language he no longer recognized.Every rustle of leaves, every gust of wind sounded different — like the world itself had forgotten how to speak his name.
He walked through the mist, barefoot, each step pressing softly into damp soil. His reflection flashed faintly on puddles of rainwater — long hair tangled, face scarred by time, eyes glowing faintly gold in the half-light. He looked less like a man and more like a ghost who refused to fade.
His fingers brushed against a tree trunk — smooth, alive, yet alien.He could feel no presence of the old magic that once connected nature to his bloodline. The world had changed. The gods had gone silent.
A faint ache pressed against his chest. It wasn't pain — it was the weight of time.
"Even the wind doesn't carry my name anymore…" he whispered.
He climbed a hill, guided by a faint crimson glow on the horizon.And then he saw it.
Where his kingdom once stood — where golden spires once touched the clouds — now rose a city of steel and crystal. Floating carriages drifted in the air like stars in motion. Energy rails pulsed through towers that defied gravity. The walls that once protected his people now bore the emblem of a serpent coiled around a crown.
His jaw tightened."Ardyn…" he breathed, his voice trembling between disbelief and rage.
He watched in silence as soldiers marched in perfect lines below, their armor black and polished, their faces hidden behind mirrored visors. The streets were clean but lifeless, the people quiet, eyes downcast. Not a trace of the joy he remembered. Only fear.
He could feel it — that faint energy that used to belong to him — now twisted, corrupted, and reshaped into something darker.
"Who dares rule my people like slaves?"
The voice came from behind him — cold, artificial, emotionless.
"Identify yourself, traveler."
He turned slowly.A soldier stood a few feet away, clad in sleek black armor glowing faintly red at the seams. A long spear buzzed with energy, aimed straight at his chest.
The king studied him for a moment — the precision, the lack of human hesitation. This was no soldier of flesh. This was a machine made to obey.
"New gods," he muttered under his breath. "New toys."
The soldier's helmet flickered.
"Failure to comply will result in termination."
The king didn't move. Instead, he raised his hand slightly — the mark on his wrist, faint moments ago, began to burn with golden light. The earth trembled. The air rippled. And in a heartbeat — the soldier's spear cracked like glass, disintegrating into glowing dust.
The machine staggered back.
"Im… impossible. That mark—"
The king stepped closer, shadows coiling around him. His voice dropped to a whisper that carried more power than a thousand storms.
"Remember this. The royal blood still flows."
The soldier froze. Its systems flickered erratically, unable to comprehend the ancient power before it.
The king turned away, eyes locked on the glowing city in the distance. The mark on his wrist pulsed like a heartbeat, as if the past itself was calling him home.
The silence of centuries ended that night.And the world that had forgotten him was about to remember.