Legends say the Dragon Emperor was born beneath nine suns, each one dimming when he roared for the first time. For centuries, he ruled the Heavenly Realm with unshakable authority — a monarch of scales and starfire.
But even the greatest fall when betrayal comes from blood.
On the day he announced his successor, the Emperor turned not to his ambitious son, but to his daughter — gentle in nature, but possessing a heart as bright as the celestial flames themselves.
His son smiled.
He knelt.
He wept.
And while his father turned away, a blade forged in the shadows of the Dark Dragon Dominion slid silently into the Emperor's heart.
The pain was nothing compared to the truth behind it.His son, his own blood, had colluded with their mortal enemies.For power.For the throne.For a future the Emperor knew he did not deserve.
The Dark Dragons emerged from the fractured space around them, their laughter echoing against the ancient pillars.
"Dream your vengeance," they mocked. "In death, you can do nothing."
But they were wrong.
With the last flicker of his divine will, the Emperor activated a forbidden ancestral technique. His flesh dissolved into light. His bones into runes. His essence into an artifact of wrath and mourning.
He became a sword.
Cracked. Dying. But unbroken.
Before the traitors could seize him, the blade flung itself into the void and vanished into the darkness between worlds.
There, he drifted for a thousand silent years.
Until he fell into a forgotten cavern in a world with barely a whisper of spiritual energy. He slept, enduring a wound even time struggled to mend.
And then… footsteps entered his cavern.