Two hundred years had passed since the King stepped into the Twelfth Dungeon, never to be seen again. The once-unified kingdom had fractured into five separate nations, and the King's legend had faded into a myth, whispered only within the pages of dusty tomes and between ancient stone walls.
In the midst of this era, a boy was born in the slums. An orphan, he lived in narrow alleys filled with the smell of mud and damp air. But fate did not overlook him.
He began to have a strange dream. A massive seal glowed before him, radiating both terror and mystery. Then, a voice whispered:
"Touch it... and understand..."
The boy reached out, but he couldn't quite grasp it. He woke up abruptly, as if something within the dream had pulled him back.
"Just a dream..." he muttered, rubbing his eyes. Yet, deep in his chest, something burned hot, and his heart was racing.
Later, while wandering outside, the boy spotted something glimmering in the distance. A faint light caught his attention, and guided by intuition, he drew closer. The moment he touched it, the air around him erupted in a golden glow.
A flood of someone else's memories surged into his mind: visions of a kingdom from the distant past, majestic palaces, battles against monsters, and words in a language he couldn't comprehend. Unable to withstand the pressure, the boy lost consciousness.
When he finally opened his eyes, a strange crest was etched onto his right wrist. It bore the design of a crown surrounded by ten crystals, with an eleventh crystal shining in the very center. A few seconds later, the seal quietly vanished beneath his skin.
Parched with thirst, he reached for some water nearby. But as he caught his reflection in a mirror, the boy froze in terror.
A crown crest had appeared in his left eye.
"Wh... what is happening to me...?"
His heart trembled with fear and confusion as he realized that his world had changed forever.