The seven kingdoms called their citizens to gather in the land of Imperium, a sacred place where the fallen god Morax had perished. Now, it served as a common ground for all kingdoms to unite and celebrate their shared heritage. The once majestic god had turned into a sprawling, awe-inspiring landscape, dotted with ruins and ethereal remnants of his divine essence.

A massive crowd had assembled, buzzing with excitement and anticipation. Banners from all kingdoms fluttered in the breeze, and the air was thick with the scent of celebration. At the center of it all was a grand stage, where the newly introduced MS-08, also known as Irmin, would make his first public appearance.

Irmin, clad in a ceremonial robe adorned with symbols of the gods, stepped forward. His presence was commanding, and the crowd fell silent in awe. Doctor Carel stood nearby, her eyes filled with pride and a hint of nervousness. Irmin began his speech, reciting the carefully crafted words taught to him by Carel.

"People of Taeloria," Irmin's voice rang out, clear and confident, "I stand before you as the true Red Rising, the prophesied one destined to bring balance and renewal to our lands."

The crowd erupted in cheers, their faith in the prophecy bolstered by Irmin's presence.

"But there is a threat among us," Irmin continued, his tone growing serious. "A false Red Rising, a boy named Nathen Albrich, is on the run. He seeks to disrupt the balance and bring chaos to our kingdoms."

Gasps and murmurs spread through the crowd as Irmin's words sank in.

"To ensure our future, we must capture this imposter," Irmin declared. "A reward of 2,700,568 gold coins and the honored place of Odin await anyone who brings Nathen Albrich to justice."

The crowd's excitement reached a fever pitch, and the promise of such a reward ignited a fervent desire to capture Nathen.

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Meanwhile, in a remote corner of the Tunga Tribe's encampment, Nathen sat quietly while one of the tribe's elders examined his eyes. The elder muttered something in their native language to his people, who responded with a mixture of reverence and curiosity.

Gobo, ever the charmer, was attempting to impress a group of Tunga women with tales of his exploits. He glanced over at Nathen, who was trying to process

everything happening around him.

Kobacha, the tribe leader, approached Nathen with a warm, reassuring smile. "Are you feeling alright, Kamihomi?" he asked, using the name they had bestowed upon Nathen.

Nathen nodded. "Yes, I think so. Just a lot to take in."

Kobacha gestured for Nathen to join him by the fire, where a pot of chicken stew was simmering. "Come, eat and rest. There is much you need to understand."

Nathen accepted a bowl of stew and sat down. Gobo, meanwhile, settled beside one of the Tunga women, continuing his animated storytelling.

Kobacha cleared his throat, drawing everyone's attention. "I will tell you the true tale of the Red Rising," he began. "This is a story passed down through generations, one that speaks of gods and their eternal struggle."

Gobo rolled his eyes playfully. "Oh, we've heard about the Red Rising five or six times already," he joked, earning a few chuckles from the crowd.

Kobacha smiled but continued undeterred. "But you do not know the full extent of the prophecy. The Red Rising is not only destined to save our lands and rebuild the kingdoms but also to defeat his brother, known as the Morning Star."

Nathen's interest piqued, he leaned forward. "Who is this Morning Star?"

Kobacha's expression grew serious. "The Morning Star is Asmoday, Surtur's brother. Over 6,000 years ago, they waged a war unlike any other, known as the Kami War. Gods fought against gods, and the devastation was immense. Morax, the all-powerful Being and god of contracts, cursed both Surtur and Asmoday. They were to reincarnate and fulfill their destinies as mortals."

Nathen felt a chill run down his spine. "And Asmoday? How does he come back?"

Kobacha sighed. "Asmoday will reincarnate when the blood of Artemis is used to create a vessel for him. Fortunately, such technology did not exist at the time of the curse."

Gobo, now intrigued, leaned in. "But with today's advancements, it's possible, isn't it?"

Kobacha nodded gravely. "Yes, it is. The kingdoms' pursuit of Artemis' blood could lead to Asmoday's return. This is why your role, Kamihomi, is more crucial than ever."

Nathen's mind raced with the implications. He looked at Gobo, who seemed equally concerned but resolute. "We need to stop them," Nathen said.

"Yes," Kobacha agreed. "But you must be prepared. The path ahead is fraught with danger and deceit."

As they finished their meal, the tranquil night was shattered by distant cries and the sounds of battle. Nathen and Gobo exchanged worried glances.

"The Tunga Tribe must defend our people," Kobacha declared, rising to his feet. "Kamihomi, stay close. We cannot afford to lose you."

Nathen nodded, his resolve strengthening. He was no longer just a thief from the village of Nika; he was Kamihomi, the Red Rising, destined to face his brother and save the world. And he would not back down.