Others might not have known it, but King Eldros had been trapped at the peak of Stage 3 for centuries—centuries of silent, agonizing failure. Time and again, he attempted to shatter the bottleneck, only to come face-to-face with the same wall. With every failed attempt, hope bled out of him, drop by drop, until all that remained was a void—a consuming darkness that chewed at his sanity, whispering of futility.
And yet… this year, the tides had shifted.
He had found something.
No—he had been given something. A forbidden method. A twisted possibility that rekindled the embers of hope. One whispered to him from the shadows, said to come from the so-called Lord of Hell.
The solution to his lifelong shackles.
The throne room, normally gilded in gold and light, now radiated a sinister aura. Crimson clouds loomed above the towering spires of the royal castle, swirling like the eye of a storm. The sky itself seemed to mourn, casting the world in shades of despair.
