The world believed that the TGSR had brought balance, that the reign of the seven rulers meant the end of chaos. But the prophecy—foreseen in the flames, in the stars, in the restless murmurs of the earth—spoke of something far darker. It spoke of the return of the one they had forgotten.
The Greatest Ruler.
As the prophecy spread from village to village, so did fear. The signs were there, hidden in plain sight. The earth trembled underfoot in the dead of night. The skies darkened too early, and the winds carried the scent of something ancient, something powerful.
In the halls of the seven rulers, unease grew. Whispers of rebellion. Murmurs of ancient forces waking from their long slumber. Each ruler had heard the same story—the one that haunted the dreams of children and the elders alike. The one that could not be ignored.
In the village, the old woman spoke again, her voice barely a breath over the crackling fire. "They think they have tamed the world," she said, her eyes gleaming with a knowledge far beyond her years. "But the world... the world remembers."
And in the distance, from the corners of the Earth where no light touched, a force stirred.
The rulers believed their kingdoms were secure. But as the days grew darker and the nights longer, one thing became clear—The Greatest Ruler was returning. And when he did, no kingdom would be safe.