The end of an era is never sudden—it does not shatter in an instant, nor does it fall to a single stroke of fate. Instead, it rots slowly, like a wound left untended, festering in the hearts of those who once stood as brothers. Loyalty, once unbreakable, turns brittle under the weight of ambition. Trust curdles into suspicion, love twists into something cruel, and the hunger for power devours all that remains.
These kings, who once stood side by side, forged in blood and fire, were now but shadows of their former selves. Brotherhood had turned to rivalry, trust to suspicion, and love to a weapon sharpened against the throat of those they once swore to protect. A kingdom of sin and power, built upon foundations of violence and bloodshed, found its pillars cracking, not beneath the weight of justice, but under the burden of their own demons.
And so, let us return to the beginning of this unraveling. Before the empire stood on the precipice of ruin. Before betrayal sank its fangs into their flesh. Before the throne of the underworld was drenched in the blood of its own rulers.
This is where it all began—the saga of revenge, of control, of unquenchable obsession. Where five men, feared as kings and worshiped as gods, learned the cost of power in a world where loyalty is nothing more than a fleeting illusion.