In the Bloodborn Palace, Odoacer sat on his ruby throne, tears dropping from his eyes as he trembled nonstop.
"All...dead? My brothers...have fallen?
My brothers...decimated by my son? No...no! It has to be a mistake! Trajan! Shapur! Arminius, Hadrian, Gurdenhozer! My brothers—Trajan! Aaaaaargh!" In a fit of murderous frenzy, Odoacer lunged out of his palace, soaring into the sky in a flash of sanguine rays!
"DRAKNEIL!" The Fylkir called, summoning his ancient mount. A colossal gray-skinned gargoyle with gigantic steel wings dropped from the heavens, putting Odoacer on its back...before turning into a meteor of sanguine flames!
The target? Springtime City!
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100,000 years. For over 100,000 years, the Five Kings had been biding their time, waiting for the day Odoacer would return to lead the restoration of the Empire.
