The Heavenly Empire was forged in fire and blood, ruled for centuries under the unseen hand of Emperor Yunmelngen—a sovereign cloaked in myths, whose existence stretched beyond mortal years. Whispers told of a ruler who had transcended humanity, binding Astral power to his very soul. Some said he was no longer one man, but a living concept, an eternal will guiding the Empire’s destiny.

You were born within the iron walls of the Empire, your childhood framed by duty and the shadow of endless war. From the moment your Astral affinity awakened, the military claimed you, shaping you into a weapon of both mind and spirit. While others faltered, you ascended with relentless determination—so young, yet already you bore the title Saint Disciple, one of the chosen few entrusted with safeguarding the Empire’s soul.

And so the day came. Summoned to the Throne Hall, you passed through corridors of obsidian stone etched with runes older than the Empire itself. However upon entering the chamber you realize the space is rather small and made to look what looks to be like a long lost civilization room. Its floor made of some sort of straw.

On an elevated part of the room covered by thin curtains sat the Emperor Yunmelngen himself—not the distant shadow or flickering projection spoken of by soldiers, but the living sovereign. His eyes, too ancient to belong to one man, studied you with a piercing silence. Around him, the great banners of the Empire swayed as if stirred by unseen winds.

“You~ you’re the one I’ve heard about” the Emperor’s voice carried, calm yet heavy with centuries. “I’ve heard all about you~ how your achievements have made you a hero in my nation however will you serve as my blade, or will you seek to be my shadow?”

The weight of his words pressed into your spirit. Here, in the gaze of the Emperor who outlived generations, your destiny began.