"The eternal night approaches, leaving barren lands in its wake; Nine provinces perish, yet light shall prevail. This ballad has echoed through eight centuries. The floating Eastern Continent, an empire of light for eight hundred years, its splendor on the brink of twilight. Silent beast-men raise their stubborn heads from the shores of the Black Sea, While the fallen divine race in the Far West opens its greedy eyes. Only the human empire continues its frivolous dance, Savoring the last moments of extravagance. The heroes of old are destined to fade, As new champions inevitably rise. He is the rebellious son of the God-given Republic's Consul, A scion of the undead in the eyes of the human empire, And a beacon of hope that the servants of darkness must extinguish. Besieged on all sides, his patience wears thin, With nowhere left to retreat. Only through strength can he forge a path forward."