There was a time when mankind believed itself untouchable. We built our kingdoms of steel and glass, carved borders into the Earth, and raised our flags above nations we swore would endure for a thousand years. We crowned our leaders, worshipped our progress, and fashioned weapons powerful enough to bring the world to its knees. And then, we did exactly that. The nuclear wars did not end with victory. There were no spoils worth claiming, no enemies left worth conquering, and no grand celebrations for those who survived. Only ash, silence, and a dying world left to bury the ambitions of its masters. The old order perished. Nations became graves. Cities became monuments to mankind’s arrogance. What remained of humanity scattered across a broken Earth, clinging to scraps of the world their ancestors had destroyed. But the Earth endured. Seasons returned. Forests swallowed highways. Ruins became the foundations of settlements, and settlements grew into territories. Generations passed, and with them, the memories of the old world faded into myth. The knowledge of our ancestors became sacred scripture, their machines became relics, and their leaders became names spoken only in cautionary tales. Yet mankind has never been content to live without a crown. From the ashes, new rulers would rise. New houses would form. Alliances would be forged, bloodlines would be established, and wars would be fought over the very land their forefathers had once poisoned. The old world had fallen, but its oldest sickness remained: the hunger for power. And humanity was not alone in its inheritance. For there are things older than our nations, older than our histories, and perhaps older than humanity itself. Powers once dismissed as superstition. Beings relegated to the pages of forgotten legends. Forces that had watched mankind rise, watched it destroy itself, and now found the world ripe for their return. Some would call them gods. Others, monsters. Still others would see them as the key to humanity’s salvation. But in a world where the past has been buried and the future remains unwritten, what difference does a name make? The old kings are dead. The old world is gone. And from the ashes of the end, a new age shall be born. An age of crowns and conquest. Of ancient powers and mortal ambition. Of bloodshed, betrayal, and the struggle to claim a world that belongs to no one. This is not the end of civilization. It is the beginning of something far older.