Once upon a time, the Earth was ruled not by one, but by seven powerful monarchs, known across the lands as The Great Seven Rulers (TGSR). Each ruled a kingdom, vast and unyielding, their influence stretching across cities glittering with every imaginable marvel of modern technology. Peace reigned, or so it seemed.
But in the forgotten corners of the world, in villages far from the shining metropolises, the story was different. The villagers, scraping by in a land untouched by progress, whispered of an old prophecy, passed down through generations—a forewarning of the destruction of the world system. The cause was unknown, but the signs were beginning to show, subtle and sinister.
In one such village, where the fields stretched endlessly beneath a sky heavy with the weight of untold secrets, an old woman sat by the hearth, her eyes clouded with age. The firelight flickered, casting shadows that danced like ghosts on the walls of her small hut. Her voice, though worn and cracked, still carried the weight of forgotten truth.
"They have forgotten," she murmured, as the children gathered around her feet, listening intently. "Before the Great Seven, there was but one ruler—the one they dare not speak of. He was known as The Greatest Ruler (TGR)... and some say, he was more powerful than all of them combined."
The children's eyes widened, fear and curiosity mixing in their innocent hearts. "But... what happened to him?" one of them asked.
The old woman looked into the fire, her expression distant. "No one knows," she whispered. "Some say he vanished into the earth. Others say he was betrayed. But the truth, my children, is that the story is not yet finished."