A storm raged over the crumbling ruins, casting eerie shadows across the jagged stones. Rain hammered down like a relentless war drum, washing away the dust of time that had buried this forgotten place. Amidst the chaos of nature, a lone figure pressed forward—soaked to the bone, trembling from exhaustion, yet unwilling to turn back.

Leonard Valterion, a fifteen-year-old noble fallen from grace, had ventured into these ruins alone. He had no army, no retainers, not even a sword to defend himself. All he had was a desperate will to grasp the power needed to change his fate.

"If the legends are true..." he muttered, forcing himself deeper into the darkness. "Then this is my only chance."

His family had once stood among the greatest in the empire—the proud House of Valterion, Marquesses of the North. But betrayal, scheming nobles, and political treachery had reduced them to powerless landowners. And now, with his enemies forcing him to govern a forsaken frontier, he knew this was nothing more than a death sentence.

Yet fate had led him here.

As Leo stumbled forward, his breath ragged, he reached the heart of the ruins—an ancient chamber half-buried beneath the earth. It was a miracle that anything remained standing after centuries of decay. The walls, engraved with the sigils of a bygone empire, whispered of a time when one man ruled all, an emperor who could turn tides with a single command, a conqueror whose wisdom was unmatched.

And at the center of it all, resting upon a pedestal of obsidian, lay the ring.

A simple band of dark silver, unadorned and unassuming, yet radiating a presence so overwhelming that Leo could feel the weight of history pressing down on him. The Ring of the Forgotten Emperor.

He reached out, hesitant. His fingers hovered just above it, his heart pounding like a war drum.

"If this truly holds the power of the greatest ruler in history... then let me inherit it."

The moment his skin touched the ring, a violent force surged through his body. The ruins trembled, and the torches that had long since lost their flames burst into eerie blue fire, casting ghostly light upon the chamber.

Leo's vision blurred. His knees buckled, and his mind was consumed by something far greater than himself.

A voice, deep and ancient, echoed in the depths of his soul.

"You, who dare claim my legacy..."

Leo gasped as his surroundings shifted. He was no longer in the ruins. Instead, he stood upon a vast battlefield, watching a lone man clad in black armor cut down entire armies as if they were mere grass before the scythe. His movements were precise, efficient—each strike ending a life with terrifying ease.

Then, another vision. A grand hall, where nobles and scholars knelt before that same man, their eyes filled with admiration and fear. His voice commanded absolute authority, and his mind wove strategies that shaped the world itself.

And then—darkness.

A final whisper echoed through Leo's soul.

"Rule. Conquer. Survive."

His body convulsed as knowledge flooded his mind—battle strategies, administrative genius, and a deep, almost instinctual understanding of warfare. His once frail limbs pulsed with newfound strength, as if decades of training had been condensed into a single moment.

When Leo's consciousness returned, he was on his knees, gasping for air. The storm outside had ceased. The chamber was silent once more, save for his own ragged breathing.

He looked down.

The ring was now on his finger.

And in that moment, he knew—Leonard Valterion was no longer just a powerless noble.

He had become the inheritor of an emperor's will.

And soon, the world would come to fear that name once more.