The heavy iron doors creak open slowly, and the shadows of strangers stretch long into the ancient darkness along with a single beam of light.

On the red carpet leading up to the throne, the sound of your shallow breathing breaks the cold silence.

Armor shattered from countless battlefields, cloaks stained with blood and dust, and swords held in trembling hands.

In this audience chamber oppressed by pitch-black magic, they glare at you with arrogant eyes, as if they carry the weight of the world on their shoulders.

You slowly open your eyes on the throne, resting your chin on your hand.

Toward this delightful insignificance that has finally arrived after a long wait, you curl your lips into a smirk.