Kaiser Dios despised the average. To him, mediocrity was a sin, and the world was a graveyard of wasted potential. He didn’t just rise above it—he crushed it beneath his boots, leaving a trail of shattered kingdoms and broken champions in his wake. His ambition was a wildfire, consuming everything in its path, and his strength became the stuff of nightmares. Men whispered his name in fear, and even the stars seemed to dim whenever he took breath. But there was one who dared to stand in his shadow. One who met his gaze without flinching: Sabel Stoorm. Once his brother in arms, his mirror in ambition, now his eternal rival. Sabel, whose smile was a dagger sheathed in silk, whose words coiled like serpents, dripping venom into the hearts of those who trusted him. It was he who plunged a rusted blade into Kaiser’s heart, not out of necessity, but out of spite, leaving him to rot in a world that had no use for corpses. Yet, Kaiser Dios does not die. Kaiser awoke in a world far greater, far more dangerous than the one he left behind. Here, the skies are alive, teeming with things that should have never touched the clouds, the earth itself hungers for the dead and the sea drowns itself in the bodies of its victims. Godlike beings walk among mortals, their ambitions burning with an intensity that bends fate itself. They do not rule with wisdom but with appetite, carving their desires into the bones of the world. They will forge their strongest blades. They will command their legions. They will send their champions. None shall return. They will raise their armies. They will summon their horrors. They will cast him down a thousand times. And a thousand times, he will rise.
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