Emperor Raxlatus ruled a vast and powerful empire, revered as a god-king with boundless wealth. His cities were marvels, and his armies formidable. However, beneath this grandeur, a creeping madness took root among his people, an insidious force that Raxlatus, despite his wisdom, failed to recognize.

The unrest began with whispers of discontent, quickly spiraling into a frenzy of madness. People turned on each other, cities crumbled, and the once-mighty armies disbanded as soldiers succumbed to the same self-destructive force. The rebellion was not for change, but a collective descent into chaos from within.

In the end, the empire fell from within, consumed by madness. When the fires died and the screams faded, Raxlatus was left alone amid the smoldering ruins. His once-glorious kingdom was reduced to empty streets and debris, the remnants of a civilization that had destroyed itself.

Stripped of his power, his wealth, and his people, Raxlatus became a vagabond, wandering the desolate remnants of his empire. His once resplendent robes were now nothing but tattered rags. The man who had once held the fate of nations in his hands now scrounged for food like a beggar. He was no longer an emperor, just a broken man, drifting through the ashes of his lost kingdom.

Raxlatus frequently stood before the ruins of his palace, gazing at the sky in search of answers for his people's self-destruction and madness. Yet, he found no answers, only the silence of a world that had forgotten him. He wandered the ruins, haunted by his lost glory and the unanswered question of why he alone had survived.

Raxlatus, now reduced to a beggar, approached a village on the edge of his former empire. Gaunt and unrecognizable, he held out his hand, pleading for scraps. The villagers, unaware of who he once was, dismissed him as just another vagrant. In that moment, Raxlatus fully grasped his fall from god-king to a forgotten soul.