The Remnants Oath

In the age of ruin, long after the last bell tolled and the thrones turned to dust, only remnants remained.
Not heroes.
Not kings.
Just the discarded—those who were cut down, cast aside, or left to rot in forgotten lands.

In the old tongue, they were named Zanto (残党)—the last fragments of a shattered host.

Their banners were torn.
Their swords, buried in backs by once-brothers.
Their names, erased.

But from that black soil, something stirred.

Three swords rose from the blood-soaked ground—not in triumph, but in vengeance.
One for the oath betrayed,
One for the crown denied,
One for the return promised.

These blades did not gleam—they bled.
They did not rest in scabbards—they hungered.

Carved into our mark, the three swords are not symbols of glory.
They are the relics of wrath, betrayal, survival, and a will that cannot be buried.

We are the cursed.
The forgotten ones

And we have returned.