The dark sky hung over the magnificent palace, black clouds rolled in like unrelenting anger. Inside the throne room, a man sit calmly. His silver hair radiated a mysterious glow, contrasting with the shadows that shrouded his face. Only his eyes were visible, burning like embers, gazing deep into the darkness.

A knight knelt before him, his armor dusty and bloodstained. His breathing was labored, his voice trembling as he spoke. "Lord, we have lost. Our army is defeated, and the enemy is approaching the last gate. We need your power... we need your help."

The silver-haired man remained silent for a moment, as if listening to the whispers of the wind that carried the sounds of screams and war drums from afar. Then, with a gentle motion, he raised his hand. The air around him vibrated, and a sword appeared out of thin air.

Its sword emitted a blue glow, with ancient runes pulsating in sync with the man's heartbeat. "Take this," he said, his voice deep and authoritative, like an echo from the past. The sword hovered and landed with a loud thud on the marble floor in front of the knight.

As the blade touched the ground, lightning struck from the sky, illuminating the room for a moment. The knight was taken aback, feeling the magical energy flowing from the sword to his hand. "Emperor.. this sword" he asked, still fixated on the sword that pulsed with unexpected power.

The silver-haired man smiled faintly, his face still shrouded in shadows. "The power to change everything. But remember, every action has its own consequences." The knight grasped the sword's hilt, and instantly, a flow of energy coursed through his body.

He felt a power he had never experienced before, but also an unbearable burden. "Thank you, sir. I won't disappoint you." The man nodded slightly, his eyes closing again. "Go. And remember, this is not just about war... it's about rebirth."

As the knight left, the room fell silent once more. Only the sound of thunder filled the silence. The silver-haired man sat back on his throne, his face still hidden, but a small smile spreading across his lips. "It's time," he whispered, as if speaking to himself or something far greater. "It's time for this world to change."

Year 986 Oltde/AD The ancient Elves once prophesied about him, the tyrant born from the cruelty of his own kind. "He with silver hair will bring destruction... and rebirth."