In the imperial tomb deep in the Shurima Desert, a young man in noble clothes stood up in a coffin in the sand, and he felt some pain in his brain, and this pain quickly expanded to the point that he could not bear it.

He then went to the ground and hugged his head, trying to relieve the indescribable pain, but it did not diminish in the slightest, his consciousness gradually blurred, his whole person was half-asleep and half-awake, there were many fragments of memories flickering in his mind like a horse, he was at a loss, whose memories were these? Is it mine? So what's my name? How am I in this desert, am I the king? What about my people? What about the kingdom that I command?

Treachery? Confused? Demise? Cruel? Dissipate?

Soaring?!

Yes, Ascension, the thought flickered like lightning in his mind, and then the pain intensified, he couldn't continue along the thought, he could only suspend the process of his memories, he just felt that he had a lot to do, and, most of all, revenge, as for who it was, he hadn't remembered it yet, but it wasn't far off.

Then his consciousness sank, immersed tens of thousands of years ago.

Azir walks on the gold-paved avenue. Giant statues of Shurima's first rulers, his ancestors, watched his advance.

The soft pre-dawn light spilled over the horizon, and the brightest stars still twinkled overhead, though they were soon overshadowed by the morning light. The starry sky was different from what Azir remembered, the positions of the stars and the shape of the constellations were all misaligned. Thousands of years have passed.

With each step, Azir's scepter struck a lonely tone that echoed through the empty streets of the capital.

The last time he walked on this avenue, a guard of honor of 10,000 elite soldiers followed him, and cheers from the crowd resounded throughout the city. It was supposed to be his moment of glory – but it was stolen.

Now, it's a ghost town. What happened to his people?

Azir struck a haughty gesture and ordered the dust under the rocks on the side of the road to rise in the wind, creating a living human figure. These are the effects of the past, the echoes of Shurima's physical form.

The human figure of sand and dust looked ahead, and countless people looked in the direction of the huge solar disk, which still hung high in the air half a mile away, showing off the glory and power of the Azir Empire, but no one left could see it.

Shurima's daughter had just awakened him, and the girl who had inherited his bloodline had left the place. He could feel her in the desert in the distance. The bloodline binds them together.

Azir continued to walk down the avenue, the figure formed by the dust pointed to the solar disc in the distance, and the joy on his face gradually turned to fear.

People opened their mouths and let out silent screams. They turned and fled, stumbling and crawling. Azir watched everything in a desperate silence, watching his people in their final moments.

They were instantly obliterated by an invisible energy, turned into dust and disappeared with the wind. What had gone wrong with his ascension to unleash such a tragic catastrophe?

Azir's attention was focused, and his steps became more determined. He reached the base of the Ascension Staircase, ready to climb, each step spanning five steps.

Only his most trusted soldiers, priestly regiments, and royal bloodline were allowed to climb the steps. The dusty images of these loved ones line the road, each face looking up at the sky, groaning silently, and then being blown away by the wind as well.

He began to run, climbing the steps faster than any mortal, talons embedded in the stone steps, each leaving paw prints. The sand formed a human form, and was immediately destroyed, repeating itself on both sides of his path.

He reached the top. Here he saw the last crowd of spectators in a circle: his dearest assistants, his advisors, the priests and bishops, and his family.

Azir fell to his knees. His family appears in front of him in a perfect sight, and the real details are heartbreaking. He was pregnant with his wife. Her shy daughter grabbed his wife's hand. His son held his head high and was almost about to grow up.

Azir watched in horror as the expressions on their faces changed. Although he knew what was going to happen next, he couldn't avoid it.

His daughter hid her face in the folds of his wife's skirt; His son reached for his saber and screamed. His wife... Her eyes widened with sadness and despair.

Something unseen destroyed them and vanished.

It was unbearable, but there were no tears in Azir's eyes. His ascension form no longer had the function of simply expressing grief. With a heavy heart, he struggled to his feet. The question remains unclear, how exactly his bloodline survived, and apparently certainly certainly survived.

The final echo awaits.

He stepped forward and stopped at the next step of the altar, looking at everything that was reinterpreted by the yellow sand in front of him.

He saw his mortal body, rising into mid-air, approaching the solar disk, arms outstretched, arching back. He remembered the moment. The power of the sun penetrated him, merging with his presence, infusing him with divine power.

A figure formed by sand and dust appeared. This is his most trusted servant, his sorcerer, Zeroth.

His friend pronounced a word. Azir saw himself shattered like glass, shattered into fine sandy dust.

"Zela," Azir gasped.

The traitor's expression is unknown, but Azir saw only the face of a murderer.

Where does this hatred come from? Azir never knew it.

The illusion of Zelas, made of sand and dust, rose higher and higher, and the energy of the solar disk was concentrated on him. A group of elite guards rushed towards him, but it was too late for them.

A brutal blast of dust erupted, disintegrating the final remnant of Shurima. Azir stood alone in the echoes of the past, the dust settled.

That's how he killed his people.

Azir turned, and the first rays of dawn hit the solar disk above him. He's seen enough. The illusion of dust from Zeroth's transformation collapsed behind him.

The morning glow reflected on Azir's flawless golden armor. In this moment, he knew that the person who betrayed him was still alive. He felt the spirit of the witch spirit, in the air he breathed.

Azir raised a hand, and an army of his elite soldiers rose from the pedestal of the Ascending Staircase.

"Zelas," his voice hoarse from rage. "Your sins are unforgivable."