The air in this wretched place still clung to me, a stench I could never quite scrub away. But it was fading now, replaced by the crisp, biting wind of the outside world. I, Caspian Montgomery, once a prince, now something far more dangerous, stood upon the precipice of my future. The Nine-Foot Titan Sword, cool and impossibly heavy in my grasp, hummed with a power that mirrored my own.

My eyes scanned the horizon, past the crumbling walls of the hellhole prison, towards the distant peaks. Those mountains would move. The seas would part. My cultivation, honed in the crucible of suffering, would reach ascension. And this world, the one that had cast me aside, would learn to bow.